Promises & Prophecies

by Lee Watts

  Exiting the main hypergate leading to The Cloud’s interior was the executive transport yacht of the Assembly of Worlds. Chief Minister Salazar Yorin was one of an elite group of non-Ramillie ever allowed inside The Cloud who weren't prisoners of slaves. Flanked by four reptilian-like escort craft, the sleek transport glided farther into the heart of the Hegemony.

  With lights all but extinguished in the observation room, Salazar sat alone in near darkness. He gazed out the window watching starlight illuminate the many colors of the barrier isolating Ramillie planets from the rest of the galaxy. Noticing his faint reflection in the window, he adjusted his focus to study the latest flare-up of caryon splayed across the entire left side of his head. Causing hair to thin on that side and a shriveling the skin, the disease sent dark vein-like tendrils reaching out across his face as if seeking new sources of flesh to ravish.

  Of course, Vivica left me, he thought. She's so incredibly gorgeous. How could a woman like that love a man who's decaying like a corpse? He found it ironic that here he was, arguably the most powerful man in the galaxy, and yet hadn't a soul he considered a friend or one who loved him for just himself. His mother, wherever she was, had used him his entire life to get what she wanted. Whether her greatest love was revenge, power, or position he couldn't tell, all he knew was he was never a contender. He'd barely known his father, and when he did reveal himself to Darius, he was treated like an unwelcome reminder of shame. Served him right, Salazar reassured himself concerning his role in the assassination.

  Shaking his head at the cruel joke life was playing on him, he considered the fact the only family he had left was the man he hated most in the universe. He paused and dwelled on Alexander's last words to him, I love you, Brother. He tried to dismiss the thought. No, how can that be? He was only trying to mess with my mind to get something from me. He considered it for several moments but kept coming to the same conclusion. Alexander asked for nothing. There was no benefit for him saying that. Salazar remembered just seconds before the declaration of love that he vowed to destroy Alexander and the Realm, yet his brother responded by saying he loved him. He didn't understand. What would make him do that? He tried to dismiss it.

  "He's an idiot," he insulted aloud, but even as said the words he knew they weren't true. Alexander had survived on a primitive planet for years, led an army, reestablished a multi-planetary government and formed a massive interstellar coalition. No, he was far from an idiot. He was brilliant, and there was no escaping it. Reaching that inescapable conclusion, Salazar was all the more frustrated with his half-brother.

  He's the noble hero, the champion of right and virtue, Salazar thought mockingly. It made it all the worse because it meant Salazar himself was the opposite. He wanted to blame Alexander for him winding up on the wrong side of things. His mind raced to find some way to place the blame for it all squarely on his sibling's shoulders. It's his fault... all of it! Salazar kept thinking that must be the case. It has to be! But no matter how he felt, he couldn't come up with a reason.

  Tears came to his eyes as he realized no one else had ever truly loved him, and the only person who did he had pushed away. He thought about calling to the bridge, having them turn the ship around and head to Theera to ask his brother's forgiveness and live out what days he had left with some peace of heart if not of body. He thought of calling out to the Elder and asking forgiveness of this many errors, even accepting Elkanah as his God. The weight of his errors pressed on him, and the thought of Elkanah seemed to be as someone offering his hand to a man who was drowning.

  Take His hand, came the voice of the Spirit of the Elder that called to Salazar's heart. Trust in Him. He has paid the price for your forgiveness. Accept it and in so doing, be accepted by Him. He loves you. He loves you completely.

  But I've been so wicked, Salazar thought.

  He knows, but he loves you anyway.

  NO, inaudibly cried out the horrific Dridmor spirit standing unseen in the room. He knew Salazar was a hair's breadth from accepting Elkanah as his God and that would change the fate of the age. They won't accept you! They will scorn you - turn you out, the desperate spirit shouted. You'll humble yourself and only be their fool! They'll laugh at you from one end of the galaxy to another. You don't need them. You don't need the forgiveness of the Elder or Alexander. You are strong. Don't let a moment of sentimental weakness ruin you. You'll regret it. You'll come to your senses, but it will be too late. If you want forgiveness, you can do it after all this is over. When the war is won, and you're proven you were the right one, then you can do it. Have it both ways; have forgiveness, but do it your way - in your timing.

  For several minutes Salazar's soul hung in the balance, the decision up to him alone and he wrestled with pride and conviction. When the voice of the ship's captain came over the intercom announcing their arrival at Kohath, Salazar decided he'd come too far to turn back. Whatever the consequences, he would stay the course he was on, and if he couldn't have love or forgiveness, at least he would have respect and position.

  "We've been cleared for landing and are ready to proceed at your order, Chief Minister."

  "Take us down, Captain," Salazar replied as he wiped his eyes then ran a hand over his face to clear his emotions. "I'll be ready to disembark as soon as we land," he added then cut off the intercom. He couldn't believe what he had almost done. He was eager to get off of the ship and meet with the Ramillie. He'd spent enough time thinking and was glad for the upcoming proceedings to get his mind off of things.

  As the yacht approached the surface, underside hatches opened, and the landing gear extended. Breaking thrusters fired, and the ship gently came to rest. Two columns of Ramillie honor guard troops marched forward. Coming to a halt, the two lines turned to face each other then came to attention. With a whir of servomotors, the boarding ramp lowered and out stepped the Chief Minister of the Assembly of Worlds. Planetary rotation kept that part of the planet in a continual state of dusk, and it was cooler than Salazar expected for a desert-like environment. Setting his gaze on the two figures at the end of the walkway, he recognized Saqir Nexos, but not the long-haired man to his right. Knowing the racist nature of Ramillie society, Salazar was curious who the alien next to Saqir might be. Striding between the rows of red armored soldiers, Salazar forced himself to keep from gawking at the grandeur of the resplendent city. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Saqir, who reflected the gaze. Neither man cared for the other in the slightest, and they both knew it. Each used and manipulated the other in their climbs to power, and could they work their will, would have the other eliminated at the earliest possible opportunity. Despite this, fate seemed to delight in forcing the adversaries to partner time and again to accomplish some goal. This encounter was no exception. Pasting on a smile that fooled no one, Saqir greeted his guest.

  "Welcome to Kohath, Chief Minister Yorin."

  "You honor me with your invitation to behold inside of The Cloud, Potentate," Salazar began though considered Saqir's title as leader of the Hegemony and in worship to the Ramillie gods to be somewhat ridiculous.

  "May I introduce Lord Imenand," Saqir said with a slight gesture to the Dridmor.

  Imenand turned to Salazar but said nothing. His implacable expression denoted he was not the least impressed with the executive of the Assembly. The Dridmor found it repugnant to have to rely on a mortal to bring to fruition the long-awaited end of the age for the glory of Roq-mordak.

  Only a few more days, Imenand thought. Then the portal will be stabilized, and the legions will pour through. He consoled himself considering the delight in personally ripping the still-beating hearts from the two impudent mortals beside him.

  "Lord Imenand," Salazar greeted as he nodded to the Dridmor in respect yet guarded caution.

  Saqir led the way as Imenand walked beside Salazar and a quartet of troops followed them. The formation gave Salazar the feeling of not so much protection but rather of being arrested. Entering the magnificent capitol complex, the t
hree men and four soldiers entered the elevator in silence. To Salazar, the ascension up the capital tower seemed to go on forever. He thought at first perhaps the lift was just slower than usual. Though he couldn't read the Ramillie symbols, as he watched the floor level indicator change, he realized lift was actually climbing faster than the standard rate.

  At last, they reached the top level, and the door parted open. Entering the elevator last, the guards now exited first and took up flanking position on either side. Imenand exited next, followed by Salazar then Saqir with the guards falling in step behind them. The elevator opened to a lengthy, ornate corridor. A row of wide windows lined the left side granting a spectacular, birds-eye view of the city below them. To the right were ivory statues of various Ramillie deities.

  One of the rearmost guards was Merrick. Beneath his helmet his face flinched as he beheld the many idols. Halfway down the hall, set into the wall on the right was a set of tall double doors with gold trim. Sliding open with a soft whoosh, they parted and provided an opening to the opulent throne room. The first two guards took up positions on either side of the door opening in the corridor, but the third guard followed Saqir and the others inside the throne room. Inside his helmet, Merrick offered a quick and silent prayer of thanksgiving to the Elder for having him be in the pair of guards that were to guard the inside of the room so he could find out what was going on. With the other guard taking a position to the door's left, Merrick stood on the right and came to attention as the other guard had.

  Entering from the room's side, Merrick noticed how dissimilar it was to the Realm palace where the throne was surrounded by rows of seats for the High Council. In contrast, the throne room of the Hegemony provided no space for councilors. Merrick considered how symbolic it was of Ramillie society where decrees were issued down, but there was no voice of the people to be represented in making the decisions. The floor itself was a high-polished black marble. Wide, deep-hued magenta columns engraved with a Ramillie script lined the sides of the room. Thirteen steps led to the top of the platform where Koraden sat in a grand, bulky throne.

  Suddenly, all of Salazar's preconceptions were turned upside down. Saqir wasn't the one in command of the Hegemony; it was Koraden, but he wasn't even a Ramillie. Despite this revelation, it was not the being on the throne or the throne itself that captured Salazar's attention, but rather it was the throne-like item positioned next to it. Somewhere, amongst the tens of thousands of worlds where Ramillie power extended, they had located another Plyeecian transfer device as the one Alexander recently destroyed. Salazar's pulse quickened as he considered the possibility of immortality being once again within his grasp.

  Imenand led the way to the bottom of the platform's stairs then dropped to one knee as did Saqir. Salazar disliked the idea of bowing before anyone but considering he was deep inside The Cloud, and what was on the platform, he decided to follow the other's lead.

  "Rise," Koraden permitted in a booming, friendly voice.

  "Overlord," Saqir began as he stood, "may I introduce Salazar Yorin, Chief Minister of-"

  "Introductions are not necessary," Koraden announced dismissively. "We're all old acquaintances, aren't we?"

  "Indeed," Salazar agreed with a nod and thought of how Saqir had first introduced Koraden to him years ago. At the time Salazar thought the bulky man nothing more than hired muscle, someone who would see to the assassination of Darius and Alexander. When Koraden disappeared during the ambush on the Chariot, Salazar thought him dead. Since his reappearance a few years later, Salazar knew there was much more to the man than being a mercenary. Saqir had deferred to him even when he was Realm Province administrator. Now it was Koraden who sat on the throne of the Hegemony, not Saqir, and Saqir was treating him with utmost reverence. Salazar knew Saqir well enough to know the man's ambitions had no limits, and if there were a position higher to be had, Saqir would stop at nothing to attain it. Yet his submissive attitude to Koraden was genuine. Salazar puzzled over why Saqir would so reverence and defer to this person.

  "Salazar," Koraden said from his hefty throne, "I suppose you are wondering why I called for you."

  "I figure it has to do with coming to the rescue concerning the war effort," Salazar answered. "I brought the Assembly in on the Hegemony's side, and that has turned the tide of the war. Our reports show a substantial amount of territory reclaimed from the Coalition, and this mutually beneficial pact has increased the influence and power of both the Assembly and the Hegemony," he noted and smiled confidently in his answer. "Power is the ultimate goal is it not?" he added rhetorically.

  Salazar knew he wasn't overstating the matter. His call for Assembly worlds to come to the aid of the Ramillie as fellow members is all that kept the Ramillie from defeat. His action to enter the war wasn't motivated through any love or allegiance to the Ramillie, quite the opposite seeing as how they had abandoned him when Alexander's forces showed up to reclaim the Realm. However, his disdain of the Ramillie paled in comparison for his abhorrence for what Alexander had taken from him. Forcing himself from staring at the transfer device, Salazar kept his gaze on Koraden and fully expected this meeting to be a gesture of gratitude. This is why he was surprised by Koraden's response.

  "Wrong," the enthroned man replied. "You don't understand, Salazar. This isn't about territory or power, no, the prize far less temporal. It's about eternity. What is the value of one life or span of one lifetime?" he asked, but everyone knew he didn't want them to answer. "It's nothing - a vapor that appears for but a moment then vanishes into nothingness. No, the prize isn't power, the prize… is life," he enlightened as he closed his hand into a fist as if he was grabbing the goal he sought. "How many men throughout the ages have died ruling all they knew of the universe and half a second after they were dead what good did it do them? None. Those left behind care more for seizing power for themselves than remembering the dead. On their deathbeds men don't cry out for more wealth or power, no they always cry out for the same thing, just one more moment of living. No matter how much they've attained, they would give it all up to go on living."

  Koraden rose from his throne and slowly descended the steps to Salazar and the others.

  "You, Salazar, should appreciate this more than anyone. Here you stand, the leader of the Assembly of Worlds," he mocked, "and what good will it do you? The caryon splashed upon your face that even now is eating away at your flesh doesn't care if you wield power over a billion worlds or a single hovel. It doesn't care if you are the wealthiest man in the galaxy or a begging pauper. Death comes to all, Salazar." He paused then with a wicked smile added, "All who don’t realize and seize the true prize."

  "Life," Salazar responded quietly.

  "Yes, life," Koraden answered as he began circling the mortal. "I'm familiar with your passion for ridding yourself of the caryon. I know you've dedicated your life to finding a means to escape the predator that's stalking you - death. Today, I offer you that escape – a way out."

  "The device," Salazar assumed, his eyes now blatantly affixed to the machine.

  "No," Koraden answered. "Not the device. The Plyeecians were fools. Their technology was their own undoing. The machine can capture departing life energy and put it into a healthy clone, but that's not escaping death only eluding it for a time. No, the prize is eternity. The prize is life with peace of mind, not having to worry about having the machine nearby or finding another power source when that one on your arm is expended. Use the device, and you don't attain freedom instead you become a slave, a slave to the machine. You're a slave because you'll have to scavenge for another bracer to power it then another till one day, even if you did find them all, there will be no more left. No, my friend. Immortality is not in the device."

  "Then where is it?" Salazar asked the circling man.

  Coming to a stop in front of Salazar, Koraden smiled and answered, "In Roq-mordak."

  A chill ran over Merrick's skin as he overheard the name of the dark prince of the Dridmor.


  That's why he's brought Salazar here, Merrick thought. If Koraden can get him to worship Roq-mordak as his god, then the new age will be for the glory of the fallen one. As waves pound upon the shore and bury the sand, a sense of dread and doom washed over Merrick. He considered how the prophecy was nearly fulfilled. When I entrusted Alexander with the stone, and he died, he was the last of the keyholders. The gate has been activated. It's all coming to pass as predicted. My only hope is to find the gate and get the stones as far away from here as I can. Merrick's problem was he knew Koraden had the gate loaded onto his personal ship, the Neovenator, but the ship's location was secret. During the past several days Merrick had snuck his way into multiple military command centers and tried to access the ship's whereabouts but to no avail. He was beginning to think there were no records to find. There was a good chance Koraden ordered that no records of its location were to be made.

  "Roq-mordak," Salazar echoed questioningly. From a child, he knew the name of the leader of the celestial rebellion as recorded in the Codex. As he had grown older, he came to consider that, and the other stories of the Elderite holy book, mere fables. However, as he thought about it, he had personally witnessed several unexplained, almost supernatural, events in the past years. At the time, anything he couldn't explain he reasoned that one day science would find the answer. Koraden was forcing his hand.

  What do I believe? he pondered then asked, "What does Roq-mordak have to do with any of this?"

  "Everything," Koraden explained in a near whisper. "Roq-mordak can give you what you've always wanted, what you deserve... life."

  With that Koraden reached out, placing the palm of his hand on Salazar's forehead. He then slowly slid his hand down the left side of the mortal's face. Usually, Salazar would pull back from anyone who dared touch him, especially on his flesh infested with the caryon, but for some reason, he remained motionless at Koraden's touch. Descending to Salazar's neck, the Dridmor withdrew his hand and gave a toothy smile.