“The master will have no objections to that, Governor.”
“Good.” Rameses turned to look at the vizier then, his wild eyes burning, his features warped and distorted as he crowed, “I will see them all dead—all of them, you understand?” He scowled, turning to look at the demonic figure that was now descending slowly—oh so slowly—toward the unconscious body of the princess. He found that the sight no longer disturbed him in the least. “And afterward?” he asked. “I care not.” He waved a dismissive, armored hand. “Let it all burn, Zahir. Let the galaxy burn around me!”
8
His right hand held up before him, the flames that crackled over his fingertips providing what little illumination his group possessed, Ezekial Tamerlane led the way along the narrow, winding, secret passage beneath the outer walls of the Heliopolis complex. Behind him came Sister Delain of the Holy Inquisition, her hands open and outstretched at her sides as she channeled her new powers to blanket the team from any electronic detection. Following Delain were Colonel Arani and Major Elaro, marching along in the midst of what remained of their troops; with Agrippa and his Bravo Squad gone, the number was now down to only three dozen.
“We’re going to regret letting Agrippa and the Kings of Oblivion go,” Arani was saying quietly to anyone who could hear and cared to listen.
“Going to?” Elaro whispered. “I already do.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Arani went on. “How could they trust her? How could they let her take away the most powerful component of what we had left here—just before our assault?”
Elaro merely shook his head.
“I can hear you, Colonel,” Tamerlane called softly back to her. “Just so you know. The acoustics are quite remarkable in here.”
Arani reddened. “My apologies, sir,” she whispered.
“Not necessary,” Tamerlane replied. “I value your input, of course. But I know what I’m doing.”
“Of course, sir.”
As the team pressed on, following the hidden course Delain had suggested, Tamerlane felt a pang of nerves. At least, I hope I know what I’m doing. Otherwise, this is all going to end rather badly, and for all of us...
A short time earlier, Tamerlane, Agrippa, and the others had stood in a semicircle around the woman in white, struggling to understand who she was—and what she wanted with them.
“Perhaps if we started over,” Tamerlane said. As the woman turned to face him—she still seemed somewhat distracted by and preoccupied with Agrippa—he asked, “What is your name?”
She seemed taken aback by the question, and appeared to have to consider it for a moment. At length she announced, “Aurore. My name is Aurore.”
“You’re sure?” Tamerlane asked. “Because you don’t seem sure.”
The woman smiled. Even in her disheveled state, she appeared radiant. “It has been a very long time since anyone has used it,” she said. “I’d almost forgotten.”
“Aurore?” Colonel Arani looked extremely dubious. “And you just happen to be named after one of the goddesses—”
“Named after?” The woman looked confused. “I assure you, I am the only one.”
“You? You are Aurore?” Agrippa scoffed. “Aurore was one of the goddesses who were murdered. Everyone who keeps the old gods remembers this.”
“No,” the woman said, shaking her head. “No, I survived those terrible events.”
“How?” the big man demanded, leaning in. “Seventy-five gods slain, and we are to believe you somehow survived?”
“Normally I wouldn’t care what you believed,” she snapped. “But—” She softened then, reining herself in. “—I need you to understand the truth.”
“Speak the truth, then,” Agrippa practically barked. “How could Aurore have survived?”
“What was my specialty? My Aspect?”
“Aurore’s Aspect?” Agrippa stroked his chin, thinking. “Distraction, if I recall correctly. Disingenuousness. Deception.”
“Yes. Precisely. And I deceived them all. I thought it was my only chance of surviving the slaughter.” She met the big man’s eyes, and her own sparkling, luminous ones seemed to see right through him. “I survived because I wasn’t there,” she blurted. “I didn’t trust Baranak or Vorthan—those overgrown, arrogant children—before the murders, and I surely didn’t trust Lucian after. So I went into seclusion—into my own private cosmos—before the murders began.” She gave a slight shrug. “Later, after Lucian and Baranak did what they did, I simply remained in hiding, out of view of the others. Out of their perceptions. It still seemed safer. If three-quarters of us could be killed so quickly, so easily, why should I have thought it couldn’t happen again? What if there had been more to the conspiracy even than was rooted out, so long ago? So I have kept out of sight.”
“Hidden,” Tamerlane said, “all this time.”
The woman nodded. “Not finding me among the survivors, they must have assumed me dead.” She spread her hands. “And so there I have dwelt, at peace for so very long, until I was visited by the ghost.”
One of Tamerlane’s eyebrows raised. “Ghost?” He glanced at Agrippa; the blond soldier’s expression was one of extreme disbelief. “You were visited by a ghost, you say.”
“That is one way of putting it, yes,” the woman replied, “considering that the person it represented has been dead for thousands of years.” She gave Tamerlane a hard look. “Do you know a better term?”
The general didn’t reply.
“So you have come to us today,” Agrippa rumbled, “at the behest of a ghost. And you are a goddess. And we are to believe you purely on faith.”
“You saw how I arrived here!”
“You did not see how we arrived here,” Agrippa laughed. “Are we gods, as well?”
The woman turned fully to face Agrippa, staring up into his glinting blue eyes. “Truly I say to you, destiny or no, I would strike you down for your impudence as soon as speak with you, mortal—but the need is too great.”
“What ghost?” Tamerlane asked quickly, interposing himself between the two of them. “What ghost visited you?”
“The avatar of an old friend. Solonis the Seer.”
“The god who could see the future,” Arani interjected. “Supposedly.”
“Yes indeed,” the woman replied, offering Arani the hint of a smile. “And see the future he could—though imprecisely, and often outside of any reasonable context.” She laughed once, humorlessly. “Seeing the future and understanding it are rarely the same things.”
Tamerlane nodded. “And this ghost—the ghost of Solonis—asked you to come here? To find us?”
An increasingly agitated Agrippa leaned in. “Ezekial,” he said, tersely, “I fear we are needlessly wasting our time. Every second that passes means another opportunity for Rameses to discover our presence. Perhaps—”
Tamerlane raised a hand. “Just a moment longer, if you don’t mind, Arnem.” He ran his hand through his dark hair, thinking. “So,” he prompted the woman who claimed to be Aurore. “You were saying: Solonis is a ghost—?”
“For all intents and purposes, yes,” she said, seemingly forcing herself to be patient and explain things in detail. “He was killed during the times of trouble in the City, but much of his spirit never entirely occupied the present time. That was how he could see the future. The greater part of his life force actually existed at some point more distant in time and could occasionally communicate future events back to him. Though his body was slain, that future component of his personality remains—albeit now untethered from our present time.” She smiled flatly. “On very rare occasions it has been able to reach back and make contact with me.”
“Why you?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps I am the only one who can perceive him. Or perhaps I’m simply the only one who cares.”
“So this future-god contacted you and told you something?” Agrippa asked impatiently, clearly anxious to get through the matter and move on.
“
Yes. And he also told me where and when I would find you: here and now. And I need your help, for I cannot begin to do this alone. Goddess though I may be, I am not Baranak, nor even Lucian. I lack the wherewithal to effectively deal with a menace of even mortal parameters.”
Tamerlane nodded. “Why us?”
“Solonis recommended you, and I assumed he had his reasons for doing so. Therefore I have watched you all for some time now. Your concern is for the welfare of the galaxy. You are trustworthy and wise.” Her eyes flicked to Agrippa and then away. “You are meant for great things. And tragic things.”
“And what menace do we face,” Tamerlane asked, “that is so great that it has demanded your attention, and ours?”
“She must be referring to the things in the comets,” Agrippa said. “I have encountered them directly and they are...disturbing, to say the least.”
“The Phaedrons?” She emitted a humorless laugh. “They are terrible enough, that is so. Would that they were the only threat this galaxy faced. But there is another, and much greater.”
“A man,” Tamerlane breathed, turning and staring away into the night sky. “A man all in black.”
Agrippa looked at him, disturbed.
“I know nothing of that,” the woman stated. “The menace I speak of is not of human origins.”
“Then who—?”
“It is the Dyonari,” she said.
Tamerlane almost laughed. “What?”
Agrippa did laugh. “The Dyonari are old enemies, it’s true—but I have of late found them to be remarkably reasonable. Besides,” he added, “they scarcely provide a threat of the sort you are—”
“They may mean well in this instance, yes,” the woman said, her eyes meeting Agrippa’s. “But what will that fact avail any of us when all of creation lies in shattered ruin?”
“What exactly are you talking about?” Tamerlane demanded, growing impatient and feeling a wave of sudden and inexplicable anxiety washing over him. “What are the Dyonari supposedly going to do?”
Aurore gazed impassively back at him. Slowly an expression of sadness crept over her features. “With every good intention and noble ambition,” she said, her voice low but filled with power, “they are preparing the ultimate counterattack against the forces they perceive are poised to invade and conquer this galaxy. They are afraid. Terribly afraid. They believe that they—and you—cannot win in the long run. And they would see it all destroyed first.”
“But,” Tamerlane said, “they can’t actually do that.” He was suddenly unsure of himself. “Can they?”
“They can,” Aurore said, “and they will. Soon. In the future-time of Solonis, they already have.” She faced the assembled warriors and spoke in a voice that was audible to all. “That possible future will come true,” she concluded. “The Dyonari will destroy everything. Unless you stop them.”
“Him,” Aurore said, pointing at the big armored man. “I want him. And his squad.”
Tamerlane had taken a moment to think things through, even as Agrippa paced nervously, convinced they were allowing the enemy far too much time to locate them. Now the general in red whirled, startled, to see exactly where—or rather, at whom—the strange woman in white was gesturing. “Agrippa?” he blurted out, shocked.
“Me?” the blond general himself said, his tone conveying astonishment. “But—I don’t even believe much of what you’re saying! Surely someone else—”
“You,” Aurore repeated. “You have a destiny, and I now believe part of it lies with me.”
Agrippa had no idea what to say to that. He merely stared back at the woman in white, his eyes wide. A second later he looked to Tamerlane. “Ezekial,” he said, “surely we have given this woman and her—shall we say, imaginative theories as much of our time as we can spare. Perhaps if we—”
“You can have Agrippa and his squad,” Tamerlane interrupted, speaking to Aurore.
“What?” the big man exploded, aghast.
The woman smiled. “Thank you,” she said. Then, “If?” she asked, knowing conditions were coming.
They were.
“If,” Tamerlane said, “you can help us first.”
As Agrippa continued to fume, Aurore gave a half nod. “I will consider it. What assistance do you require?”
Tamerlane moved in closer, his voice intense now. “Open a way for us directly into the palace, so that we don’t have to fight our way in.” He smiled, and now it was a cold, calculating smile. “You can open portals—we just saw it. Get us past the Sand Kings and right in on top of Rameses himself.”
She pursed her pale lips, thinking. “If I do this, you will allow Agrippa to go with me?”
“I will. And his entire squad. I’ll even throw in the tanks.” His smile remained cold. “We won’t be needing them indoors.”
Agrippa had turned red, but he held his tongue.
“And, from what you’ve said,” Tamerlane went on, “it certainly sounds like they will be assisting with a good cause.” He barked a laugh. “What good is taking down the traitor Rameses when the whole galaxy will be blown up right afterward?”
Agrippa found his voice. “You believe this nonsense, Ezekial?” he asked, eyes wide. “You are going to order me and my Bravos to follow her off on some wild goose chase? You’re going to assault the Sand Kings and the Heliopolis without our help?”
“If she can open a portal for us directly into the throne room itself,” Tamerlane replied, “we won’t necessarily need your firepower behind us.”
Agrippa stewed at that but said nothing.
Tamerlane looked back at Aurore. “Well?”
The woman closed her eyes and stood motionless for several seconds. Her right hand came up, then her left, held just in front of her, the fingers reaching out, seeming to probe—at nothing but air. For several more seconds she did this. Then she opened her eyes and lowered her hands. “I cannot open a way directly into the palace,” she told Tamerlane.
“There, you see?” Agrippa barked.
“But I can lead you as far as a large chamber,” she went on. “Perhaps some sort of storage basement, underground, just outside the walls of the major complex.”
“The Heliopolis,” Delain said, closing her eyes and rapidly accessing her stored memories. “A city within a city. The palace lies within.” She opened her eyes and looked at Tamerlane. “And I know of that basement. There is a hidden way from there, under the defenses. It is very old, but Stanishur has seen it, and thus I can see it.”
“You mean—?” Tamerlane began to ask.
“I mean I can get us into the palace from there.”
Tamerlane offered the female Inquisitor a tight smile. He did the same to an incredulous Agrippa. Then he turned to the woman in white. “We have a deal,” he said.
9
“Demons?” Major Elaro asked, skeptical. “Here on Ahknaton?”
“That’s what the lady said,” Tamerlane replied. “She could sense them. Demons. Sorcery. Cosmic forces at work, right in the palace.” Tamerlane shook his head. “We have to take it seriously. It’s hard to imagine there are any threats more disturbing than those.”
The three dozen soldiers had come to the end of the long, winding tunnel that had taken them under the walls and outer defenses of the Heliopolis on Ahknaton. Now they stood at the bottom of a stairway, carved from the very bedrock of the city, that reached up into darkness.
“How about the vast armies of aliens—and other human empires—fighting us on every frontier, sir?” Arani asked. “I for one find them plenty disturbing.”
“Not to mention Rameses and the Sand Kings,” Elaro said. “Let’s not forget the current enemy—the one we’re actually here to fight.”
“The shocking thing is that all these enemies appeared at roughly the same time,” Arani pointed out. “It almost makes you think they’re connected somehow.”
“I’m not certain they’re not,” Tamerlane muttered. Still generating their only light by summoning flames
that flickered across his fingertips, he began to ascend the stairs.
Arani and Elaro exchanged glances at his remark; they’d heard it quite clearly. “Do you know something we don’t, General?” Arani asked.
“No,” he replied. “Just a feeling.” But even as he said that, he frowned and asked himself if that was true. He kept almost remembering something... someone...
Onward and upward they climbed, the little procession of soldiers—some in red and gold, others in khaki—with their guns at the ready, and the Inquisitor in her robes of black, her power preventing them from being detected. The stairs were open on the right side and very quickly they all found themselves subconsciously hugging closer to the left-hand wall; in the darkness there was no way to be sure how far down the drop on the other side reached.
They moved mostly in silence, and the journey seemed to take forever. After an indeterminable time, they turned a gradual curve and a wall appeared on the right side, too. As much as the previous situation had been disconcerting with its blind drop-off, the new situation was increasingly claustrophobic, as the two walls gradually narrowed.
“It may have been a good thing Agrippa didn’t come with us,” Titus Elaro whispered to Arani. “I’m not sure his armor would’ve fit through here.”
The Colonel couldn’t argue. She squinted up and into the distance, beyond the shoulders of the troopers ahead of her, always keeping one eye on the flames generated by Tamerlane. The cold and the dark pressed in.
And then they came to a very abrupt halt.
Arani ran into the soldier in front of her, and Elaro bumped into her. It would’ve been comical if their lives hadn’t all been on the line, here in the very heart of the enemy’s stronghold.
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