by Chris Fox
Cracks formed in their carapaces, and it exposed purplish magic underneath. The lead demon took a step, and its leg shattered. The others collapsed as well, their bodies unable to resist the extreme shift in temperature.
Roars sounded from the ridge to the right, and then a moment later to the left. Dozens of illusionary tech mages came flooding over the ridge, all copies of someone in the company, and the demonic host responded in kind. They peppered the illusions with void bolts, but Nara had apparently accounted for that when she’d cast her illusion.
Each tech mage dove out of the way, or cast a shimmering ward, or did some plausible thing to explain why the spell hadn’t affected them. If anything, it convinced the demons that the groups were both alive and more of a threat than the real company. Another barrage of void bolts swept out of the demon ranks, with no more effect than the first.
A few were aimed in Aran’s direction, and he ducked behind cover again. He’d gotten their attention. Just one more jab, and he’d pull them right where he wanted them.
He kicked off the ground and shot up into the air. A pair of void bolts passed perilously close to his leg, but he twisted around them, and gained altitude. Aran snapped his rifle to his shoulder, and sighted down the scope at the rear of the demon ranks. As expected, a tall demon stood behind the others, and was bellowing something in an unfamiliar language as it pointed furiously at Crewes and Rhea.
“Let’s just remove that organization, shall we.” Aran settled the crosshairs over the demon’s neck, just under the chin. The armor it wore ended there, and there was a thin, relatively unprotected patch between the helmet and the breastplate. Just enough of an opening for the spell he had in mind.
Back on New Texas, Aran had been particularly impressed by the explosive rounds used by the Ternus defenders. They packed a lot of destruction into a single shot, and he was fairly certain he could accomplish the same thing magically.
Aran summoned a core of brittle earth, several dense fragments. He added a core of liquid fire, volatile and eager to expand and destroy. Over the top he wrapped a layer of void, in case the armor got in the way.
The rifle bucked and the spell streaked into its target. The demon didn’t even attempt to dodge, and its eyes widened comically as it spotted the spell at the last moment. The spell sliced through its neck, and disappeared inside its massive body.
Fire exploded out its ears, mouth, nose, and eyes. The commander sagged to its knees, then toppled face first to the bleached bone. The demons closest to it seemed unsure how to respond, though those closer to the front were still charging. Perfect.
“Fall back!” Aran roared. His voice echoed through the canyons and even with the spellcannon fire he had no doubt the demons heard it.
He flew back over the ridge’s lip, and out of the demons’ sight. The rest of the company wasn’t far behind, and bounded down the bleached rock as quickly as the reduced gravity allowed.
Aran fed a bit of fire to his suit, and triggered a missive to Kerr’s vessel, the flagship. As promised, it and two other black ships were entering through the membrane separating the ocular cavity from the vacuum outside. The foreboding wedges hovered low above the bleached plains, fifty or sixty meters from where the Talon was parked. Hopefully that meant the demons wouldn’t see them until they made the ridge.
“Steady!” Aran roared over the external speakers as he whirled and sought a target on the ridge.
A moment later a tide of black forms swarmed over the lip. As soon as the first rank appeared they began to realize they’d been tricked by Nara’s illusion.
By that point it was far too late.
Eighteen hovertanks kicked almost as one as they launched an explosive volley that cratered nearly a quarter of the ridge. That seemed to undam the flow of death, and the Marines added their automatic weapons fire, peppered with the occasional grenade. All of that just softened up the demons though.
The real threat came from the trio of capital ships, and Aran could feel something sinking in the pit of his stomach as their spellcannons powered up. He zipped behind cover, and spun to observe the ships. It was the first time he’d seen them fire, and as they might one day be firing at him he wanted to know as much as he could about their capabilities.
Each vessel extended a tendril of negative energy quite unlike a standard void bolt. This more resembled the liquid fire the sergeant used in that it flowed toward its target like an eel. That energy swept over a pack of demons, and cold sweat beaded Aran’s brow when he realized what he was seeing.
The demons dissolved as if disintegrated, but that wasn’t what was happening. Not at all. The beam of energy vacuumed up their essence, the magic, and possibly the soul, and delivered them back up the stream as a pulse of shining, black energy that disappeared inside the ships.
Dozens of demons died in seconds, some from the unholy barrage, and others from the Marines and their tanks. A few managed to cast, but only one found a target. The Marine had leaned a bit too far from cover, and a void bolt separated his arm and shoulder from his torso. He tumbled back with a cry, while Bord sprinted to his side, his armored hands already blazing a brilliant white as he brought his life magic to bear.
Elation lived for a fraction of a moment, but then Aran felt it. Tremendous, incredible, divine power. The kind he’d felt on Marid when he’d met Drakkon. The kind that any sane mage ran from.
“Aran,” Nara’s voice came over the comm. “What the depths is that?”
“Shit, even I feel it,” Crewes interjected. “And I do not want to meet whatever that is.”
Aran guided his armor out of cover, and zipped as high as he could, twisting to avoid more void bolts as he tried to catch sight of this new threat. It took several moments to gain enough elevation to see over the ridge, and several more to sort the chaos of battle. Beyond lay rank upon rank of demons that were clearly waiting to enter that combat. Not hundreds. Thousands.
Only one area of the plain was clear. An area just wide enough for a single person to walk. The sea of demons parted, allowing a comparatively short woman to pass. When she emerged from the demonic ranks Aran tightened his grip on his rifle. She was beautiful, and terrible.
Long, white horns curved up over her head, like a second set of ears. Leathery wings extended over her shoulders, and a long tail flicked lazily back and forth behind her. Her eyes were what drew his attention though. They were the same dark fires that Kheross had borne, but where Kheross had felt alien…this magic felt familiar. There was an undeniable kinship between them.
“Hello, Aran. Hello, Nara.” The demonic queen, if that’s what she was, folded her arms. “The pair of you may approach. The rest I will allow to scurry back to your vessels, but only if they do so quickly.”
“We don’t want a war,” Aran quickly explained, and drifted a bit closer. He raised his faceplate so she could look him in the eye. “I think we share a common enemy. We—”
The awful feeling in the pit of his stomach came again, and he glanced over his shoulder. “Goddess, no.” All three wedge-shaped ships were moving to attack. The first fired its unholy tendril, and the beam writhed toward the demonic queen like a living thing.
So much for diplomacy.
30
Dark Bargain
Aran winced as the terrible black beam snaked from the Inuran ship toward the demon’s leader. Having seen what happened to the smaller demons, he wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, demon or no.
The dark monarch merely smiled.
She stepped forward with a flourish, and whipped a slender spellblade from a void pocket so quickly Aran wasn’t positive he’d even seen it. The pocket flashed open, then closed, and then she was flowing into an offensive form. A form he knew well.
The tip of her blade touched the tendril. Magic surged—cold, but somehow urgent and overwhelming. Void pulsed from her blade, and the weapon plunged deep into the tendril. The magic struggled to free itself, wriggling like a living thing, but the demon
leapt into the air and flared bat-like wings behind her. She kept pace with the tendril, and adopted a look of concentration.
Enormous power washed out of her again, this time sinking directly into the tendril. A pulse of bright black moved up, as it had whenever the tendril had absorbed a demon. When the pulse hit the ship the vessel gave an almost living groan.
The pulse reversed course, and was quickly joined by several more.
“My gods,” Aran whispered into the comm. “I think she’s draining the ship, the same thing they were trying to do to her.”
“Sir, it ain’t too late to bug out.” The sergeant sprinted over to stand near Kezia, who’d covered Bord while he tended to the wounded. “Ain’t no way we’re going to survive against something like that. Looks like she’s just getting warmed up.”
The groan became a metallic shriek, and the vessel abruptly entered free fall. A final, weak pulse of light flowed out of it, and the inert ship tumbled end over end…toward the Marines below. “Nara, I need all the gravity you’ve got. Now. Let’s move that thing.”
Aran poured void into his armor to increase his mass and streaked up and under the doomed vessel. He slammed into the side of it, and poured more void into his armor, until he was heavy enough to make a difference. The ship reluctantly began to budge, then jerked hard as Nara added her own magic. It crashed to the ground in a spray of bone fragments, which the Marines were thankfully armored against, then toppled toward the demonic ranks, crushing dozens in a spray of rock and debris.
“That could have been a lot worse, and she’s got two more targets to hit us with,” Nara said. “I know I don’t get a vote, but if I did I’d be with the sergeant. We need to get out of here. I’m betting that at her age that demon knows true magic too. Those ships aren’t going to do anything but slow her down for a few seconds. We need to go.”
Aran couldn’t always pick up Nara’s emotion from her voice, but this time the quaver was unmistakable. She was terrified. They all were.
The remaining pair of black ships turned and slowly departed through the membrane. The Guardian of Xal—she could be no one else, Aran realized—had her chance to destroy them, but she landed gracefully amidst her own ranks, and merely watched them go.
It didn’t take the Marines long to realize their rides were leaving, and their ranks broke almost as one. They started sprinting for the Talon en masse. It was the only remaining ship, and thus the only thing worth defending.
“Bord, Kez,” Aran said, thinking aloud, “get down there and organize the retreat. Pack everyone in that you can. Crewes, Rhea, get the Talon warmed up and in the air the second we’re done loading. Let’s move.”
“Uh, sir, you ain’t doin’ nothing stupid, are you?” Crewes demanded over the comm. His armor was already in motion, and he feathered his thruster as he made for the safety of the Talon. The rest of the company quickly followed suit.
“I am, actually. Nara and I are going to go have a little chat with our new friend.” Aran rose over the Talon and studied the membrane. “Be ready to flee, as quickly as possible. If this goes south, you’ve got command, Crewes.”
“I don’t like it, sir, but I trust you.” The sergeant had already landed near the Talon, and was directing Marines inside.
“Well, here goes.” Aran piloted his armor toward the demons, gliding slowly over their ranks. He stopped a good three hundred meters away, and used air to activate the external speakers. “Hey, there. Sorry we got interrupted, and thank you for letting the survivors leave. As I was saying, we’ve got a common enemy.”
“You speak of Krox.” The woman’s eyes flared a deep, terrible purple, and the song inside Aran’s chest answered. “You and Nara may approach. No others. I will grant you an audience, and I will hear why you have violated this place, in your own words. Then, I will decide your fate.”
It wasn’t really a decision at all. Aran sent a missive to the company. “Follow the rest of the plan. Get the Marines in, and retreat to a safe distance. Sounds like Nara and I are going to a demonic tea party. You good with that, Nara?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Aran sent a missive directly to Crewes, and the sergeant’s face popped up on his HUD. He frowned at Aran. “You don’t think you’re coming back, do you?”
“Why all the doom and gloom? Of course I’m coming back,” Aran countered. “If she wanted us dead she could accomplish that right now, so I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. If it does you’ve got some choices. That puts you in charge of this outfit, and I know how much you hate being in charge. Voria will need you if I don’t make it.”
“And she’ll have me.” Crewes frowned at Aran. “But not today. You gotta crawl for this bitch, then you crawl. Come back alive. I can’t do this shit like you can. We need you.”
“I’ll do my best. Take care of them, Sergeant.” Aran killed the missive, and drifted a little higher. He looked past the membrane at the two black ships that had retreated. One contained the governor, and Aran thought he probably should check in before going with this demon. Then he reminded himself that the Ternus forces had just abandoned them.
He faced the demon, who’d walked closer. She now stood no more than a dozen paces away, and that afforded him his first good look at her. She was beautiful, oddly. If you took away the barbed tail hovering over her shoulder, and the leathery wings, and the horns curling from her temples, then what you had was a lithe, athletic woman with violet-hued skin. She topped two meters, making her slightly taller than him.
“Lower your magical defenses, and I will take you to see my father,” the demon intoned in a melodious voice. She raised a delicate hand, and sketched a void sigil. Then another.
Aran relaxed when he recognized the teleport, and a moment later he and Nara appeared atop a wide ledge not far from their host. A broad throne cut from bleached bone sat behind him, and stairs wound down from their perch, all the way to the valley where they’d just been fighting.
The vantage provided a great tactical view of the Skull’s interior, and he realized they were somewhere above the ocular cavities. Probably right behind the demon’s forehead.
Below pulsed a blazing, violet sun, a mini-star that Aran knew from experience contained a vast, vast sea of void magic. That magic still contained part of the mind of Xal, and Aran shivered as he remembered his brush with the dead god. Somehow, after all he’d seen, the death of Xal was still the most tragic event he’d witnessed.
“Yes,” the demon whispered. “It was a tragedy.”
Aran shifted away from Xal’s lingering magnificence, and faced her. Nara had quietly moved to stand behind the demon, but if having an enemy at her back concerned her, Aran couldn’t tell.
“Do you have a name?” Aran asked. He was very careful not to make it a demand.
The demon nodded, but didn’t speak until she’d ambled to the throne. She took her time sitting, like a cat finding a place on the mantle, and only then did she lick her delicate lips and offer a reply. “The name I was born with is Malila, though there are few still living who’d remember it, or my species. My title might better help you understand who I am. I was known as the Hound of Xal. My father loosed me to harry his enemies, and to slay them.”
Aran glanced down at the blazing violet Catalyst, then back at Malila. He didn’t like that she could apparently hear his thoughts. “I’ve only experienced a fraction of Xal’s memories, but he showed me his death. He knew Krox was a threat, and he was right. He predicted Krox’s rise, and I’m betting you know it.”
She frowned at the mention of Krox. “I am aware. To address your…irritation, yes, I can detect everything both of you think. I am in your minds, listening, and I have been since you first touched my father.”
Malila raised a hand, and a thin sheen of void danced along the outer edge. It called to Aran, and he felt something answer in his chest. A similar answer came from Nara’s chest, inaudible but unmistakable to those who bore the mark.
Aran bli
nked, then cocked his head as he realized something. “The kind of military precision we saw below is unparalleled, except maybe by Ternus elite units. There’s no reason anyone should ever reach that Catalyst. You let some through, don’t you? People like Yorrak make runs at the Catalyst, because you want spies out in the galaxy.”
Malila tilted her head back and gave a deep, throaty laugh. It went on for some time before she beamed a smile at Aran, then at Nara. “You aren’t wrong, but the two of you are so much more than spies. You are more than the tools of Neith. Nor do you belong to Marid, or even to Virkonna, though she touched you before I did. You belong to me, Aran. And so do you, Nara. Even your names are of my creation. A reflection of each other. Fellow pack mates, destined to be hounds, as I am.”
Nara’s helmet hissed as she removed it. She took three steps closer to Malila, then glared up at the much taller demon. “So we’re just a game to you? Everything we’ve endured…you find it amusing?”
Malila threw a leg over the arm of her throne. Her tail curled around her legs, almost of its own accord. “I sometimes forget how…urgent things are as a mortal. And how limited your perspectives are. I do not see you as playthings. Rather, you are my attempt to end a cycle that has been going on for over a hundred millennia. Krox and Nefarius have risen again and again, each trying to rule the sector. And each time the sector is torn apart, and we are lesser than we were. All while the true threat lurks in the darkness, growing stronger. Feasting on our apathy and ignorance.”
Nara moved to stand next to Aran. “Then it sounds like we want the same thing. Are you strong enough to protect me from Talifax?”
Malila’s posture changed, though subtly. Her eyes widened a hair, and a breath caught in her chest. It was minor, and gone quickly, but Aran knew those physical responses. She’d experienced fight or flight. She was afraid of Talifax, as it seemed everyone they’d met was.
“I cannot,” Malila admitted. She straightened on her throne and fixed Nara with an intense gaze. “But I have given you the tools to do it yourself. Time will tell if that will be enough. The possibility you will fail, or give in to temptation, is as great…perhaps greater. Just remember—when you reach that fateful decision, that there may be a way to do as you are bidden without capitulation.”