by Chris Fox
“Ah, Krox, you are so…obsolete.” Nebiat’s cosmic face split in a wide grin, the mouth growing only long enough for the gesture, and then disappearing from her face once more. It felt…right to have a body. “You do not understand our galaxy, or our role in it. What do I care for your endless war? That doesn’t matter at all to me. What does matter is giving my people a future.”
Your people? Krox’s voice leaked anger, a rarity. Your people are nothing more than the enslaved children of the Earthmother. Even were that not true, they are nearly extinct. Your father spent them as resources to ensure his own victory. He thought like a god. You think like a mortal. That route leads to our undoing, and if you seek this course I will resist you.
“Will you?” Nebiat gave a soft laugh that echoed through the cosmos. “How?”
Krox raged against the confines her father had erected, but futilely. His rage was impotent. He could do nothing, and subsided. Nebiat ignored him and focused on her goal for coming here.
She took in every last drake, every nascent Wyrm, every hatchling, and even the clutches of eggs dotting the many forested valleys around the Earthmother’s corpse. If this world were left alone for a thousand generations it would become a paradise that would spawn a draconic empire.
These Wyrms could rival, and eventually surpass, Virkon itself. Or they would if their creator didn’t squander them in endless wars, and use them like cattle. That route explained why Krox had failed so many times. Because he didn’t value mortals, or society, and didn’t understand that in order to get mortals to believe in you, you first needed to offer them something of worth.
What does that entail? Krox asked suspiciously.
“Being a true deity,” she explained, focusing more on the magic she was about to enact.
She plunged all four hands deep into the Earthmother’s chest, and began drawing at the earth magic, just as she’d done before. This time she didn’t stop. Wonderful pulse after wonderful pulse flowed up into her, and she grew correspondingly stronger with each one.
Wait! No, this is too much. Krox protested. She ignored him and drew still more power.
She drew until the pulses grew weaker, and then stopped entirely. Nebiat was suffused with an immensity of power that defied understanding, but she did not hold onto it for long. Instead she poured the magic into the planet, or rather the creatures on it.
Earth and spirit mingled, then flowed into every drake, every young Wyrm, and every egg. She touched them all at once, hundreds of thousands of dragons, and she evolved them. They grew larger and more intelligent. As one, they advanced. They matured.
Nebiat filled them all, every last vessel gaining some of the magic she’d taken from the Earthmother. She reserved but a small portion for herself. The rest, combined with spirit she drew from Krox, she gave to her people.
When the magic faded, countless faces stared up at her in wonder, and beheld their creator as sentient beings for the first time. She’d created a nation of dragons, a nation that knew no life but the one she was about to show them. In an instant her people were reborn, and the only cost was the loss of a headless goddess who meant nothing to Nebiat.
Will you bring your children with you to war on Shaya?
“A few of the most capable ones,” Nebiat replied. Sudden weariness overtook her, and she experienced a similar need for torpor, as she had after absorbing the heart. She didn’t fight it. “First, I will gather my strength. When I wake, I will bring my army to Shaya, and I will destroy it. I will pull Worldender from Shaya’s corpse, and I will use it to kill any god who challenges me.”
35
Safety of a Cell
Nara was actually relieved to return to the Talon’s brig. The cells were spartan, but comfortable, and Kezia had come down on the first day to bring her a scry-pad so she had something to do.
Frit and Kaho had mostly kept to themselves, and it didn’t take Neith’s enhancements for Nara to puzzle out why. Nara had been taken away with the squad, and when she’d returned they’d treated her like an ally. If she hadn’t insisted on being put back in her cell she was fairly certain that she could have lobbied for, and gotten, Aran to release her.
That set her apart from her fellow prisoners, and it broke her heart.
She glanced over the waist-high cell wall into the next cell. Frit sat on her bunk, her back against the wall so she could face the cell door. Kaho lounged on his own bunk, which sagged under his draconic bulk. He had his tail clutched absently in one hand, while the other held up a scry-pad. His slitted eyes scanned down the screen, and he seemed oblivious to his surroundings.
Maybe now was a good time to talk to Frit. Nara rose and approached the bars. Frit stiffened, but didn’t turn to face her.
Nara took a deep breath and opened her mouth with no idea what would come out. “I’m sorry. I know you’re angry with me.”
“That isn’t it at all,” Frit countered. She pulled her legs closer to her chest, and the heat of her skin sent a tendril of smoke from the bunk’s surface. At least she faced Nara. “We’re trying to decide if we can still trust you.” Frit rose from her bunk, and stalked to the bars. She stopped and stared at Nara from just a meter away. “When they take us back to Shaya you’re going to be punished, and then put right back to work. Kaho will be executed, and they’ll probably do the same thing to me.”
“I would never let that happen,” Nara protested, but sudden desperation filled her. She didn’t have the power to protect Frit, or even herself. “When we reach Shaya we’ll share the same fate, whatever that fate is. I have a hard time imagining Voria coldly ordering our deaths. She’s pragmatic, and needs allies against Krox, no matter where they come from.”
“Is that what I am?” Frit hugged herself with her arms. “An ally against the very god that created my species? I don’t even know where my sisters are, or if they’re alive. I doubt they’d welcome me back. I betrayed them at Ternus when we stopped those bombs.”
Nara’s heart went out to her friend. Frit really had no home now. Not with Shaya, Ternus, or even with the Krox. She was truly alone, in a way that Nara could probably never understand. No wonder she’d gotten so close to Kaho.
“I promise I will never leave you,” Nara said solemnly. “And I mean that. We’re in this together, and I’ll even extend that to your…boyfriend.”
Kaho finally seemed to realize they were talking about him, and rose from his bench to approach the glowing bars of his cell, his scry-pad still clutched in one scaly hand as his wings scraped sparks from the ceiling. “Earlier Frit said we were trying to decide if we trust you.” He gave a toothy grin. “What she meant was she is trying to decide if she trusts you. I already do. I understand what it’s like to be in your…unique position. No one will trust any of us, not ever again. We are each considered tainted, and all of us are likely to be put to death because of our actions. And besides, it feels good to have…companions? Friends? Whatever we are. I was never particularly close to my brother, and my mother…well, you’ve met her. She doesn’t have friends.”
Frit shifted so she could face both Nara and Kaho, and her smoldering lips gave way to a small smile. “I love your perspective, Kaho. You’re always looking for the silver lining in any situation.”
Kaho gave a draconic snort. “Yes, well, mother wasn’t nearly as fond of that quality.” He looked to Nara. “Do you think there’s any chance Voria will meet with us before ordering our execution? Even if we are to be put to death, I’ll happily tell her everything I know before we are slain.”
Nara shifted her weight, then nodded. “I think so. She’ll mistrust anything we say initially, but if you give her stuff she can verify, I think she’ll listen. The question is, what can we give her? Krox has risen. A god is coming for Shaya. I’m not sure stopping Nebiat would even help. Do you know much about Krox? Anything we can use?”
Kaho’s gaze grew introspective, and settled back against the bench. “I know a great deal about Krox, but little that’
s of use. I know that for him to have been resurrected it would have required a ritual of immense power called an investiture, one that my grandfather Teodros would have had to have been involved in. We know very little of the gods, particularly the elder gods, but in every story the only way to best a god was with another god. If every Wyrm in the sector attacked Krox at once, he would annihilate them all. Gods are on a different level.”
Nara thought back to Xal’s death, and remembered the sheer number of gods it had taken to bring the deity down. Krox was, theoretically at least, weaker than Xal had been. She tapped her chin, considering. “Kaho, what do you think Krox will do after Ternus? Presumably he could have reached Shaya immediately after he hit them. Why not do so?”
“That’s a good question,” Frit echoed. “If it were me I’d stomp out my big enemies as quickly as possible, so that they couldn’t organize. Waiting is risky, unless you’re waiting to increase your strength and resources.”
“Maybe Krox is hitting other Catalysts,” Nara realized aloud. “What’s to stop him from going around the sector and, well, eating every dead god?”
Kaho shook his head, fixing Nara with an interested stare. “I don’t think Krox will risk that. If the old legends are correct most gods would go into a sort of hibernation whenever they consumed a large amount of magic. Krox will be cognizant of that. I could see perhaps taking the Blazing Heart, since that was already a part of him. He might seek to reclaim others, though the locations of those Catalysts have been carefully hidden, or the magic has been taken by another god. I tend to think not, though. Particularly after your mention of Talifax. If Nefarius is a threat, then Krox will have to tread carefully, or risk being vulnerable when another powerful enemy rises.”
Nara nodded thoughtfully. “Nefarius might serve as a check. At the very least it might force Krox to attack prematurely. Which brings me to another concern…” Nara retreated to her bench, and sat so she faced the others still. She felt so small. “Talifax is aware of everything that’s going on. He knows that Krox will assault Shaya, and I’m sure he’s positioned to take advantage of it. He considers me a tool, and I’m terrified that he’s right. That somehow he’ll get me to…to kill Voria. He says I’ll do it, and he seems certain.”
Frit shook her head fiercely. “There’s no way you’d do that. I know you too well.”
“Anyone can be broken,” Kaho pointed out. He adopted a sheepish expression, which was altogether strange on his draconic features. “Binding can force anyone to do what you wish. Talifax is known for mastery of void, but he possesses many types of magic. It’s not inconceivable that he could force Nara to kill Voria. He may have even planted a compulsion. It’s possible she won’t even feel the spell until it triggers.”
Nara pulled her knees to her chest and clutched them tightly. “That’s why I can’t be let out of this cell. If I’m in here, then there’s nothing I can do to hurt her. I’ll tell her that when we meet. That’s how I’ll beat him.”
“Can’t bindings be detected?” Frit asked, shifting to face Kaho. “Voria is a powerful true mage. Let’s ask her to inspect Nara. If you’re really bound then she can probably remove it, and if not, then maybe you’re right. Maybe she can keep you confined.” She shuddered and her gaze went unfocused as if remembering something. “I-I don’t want to live in a universe where Krox has sway. When we stopped by the Heart and I saw the way my people swirled around it…I won’t be be a plaything for a god, and you shouldn’t have to be either. There’s got to be a way to remove Talifax’s influence, and we’ll find it.”
Nara was still terrified, but it meant the world to her that she was no longer alone. A Krox and an Ifrit might be strange allies, but at least she’d have help when Talifax launched the last part of his plan.
36
Muh Man
Voria gazed through the Spellship’s scry-screen, waiting, but the night sky over Shaya remained dark and empty. Aran’s last missive put his arrival today, likely in the next few minutes. The possibilities she’d examined made that arrival a near certainty, but that still didn’t banish the anxiety.
She had so many metaphorical plates spinning, and wasn’t sure she could cast spells fast enough to keep them all aloft, metaphorically speaking of course. Ducius had been, to her immense shock, an absolute godsend. He’s been as good as his word, and had dutifully explained to their people that their aid was required to help Voria arise. It sounded so pompous. Eros would have loved it.
To her shock the people had responded, and responded in droves. They’d put aside their differences, drifter working alongside Shayan as they struggled to prepare for Krox’s impending invasion. That possibility grew more implacable every day, and she could almost feel the dark god’s approach. He’d be here any day, though most possibilities put his arrival two or more days away.
“Ma’am?” Pickus’s voice came from the bridge’s doorway. “You got a minute?”
“Certainly, Pickus.” Voria clasped her hands behind her back, and pivoted to face the freckle-faced administrator. “If you think it warrants my attention, then it must be serious.”
A tall man ducked onto the bridge behind Pickus, and Voria’s hands snapped up, ready to cast a defensive spell when she felt the strength in him. Long, blue hair poured down his shoulders, quite literally. Every bit of hair, eyebrows included, was comprised of swirling blue-green water. His features were handsome, but not remarkably so.
“Holy shit, it’s Drakkon. What up, muh man?” Ikadra pulsed. “I’d high five you, but like, hands and stuff.”
Drakkon, evidently, gave a sardonic smile to the staff. “You have not changed, I see. I believe Shaya would be…amused to see the lasting effect she had on your demeanor.”
“Welcome, Drakkon.” Voria brought her hands down, and tried to recapture some of her composure by clasping them behind her back. It was difficult, especially with the reminder of just how ancient this being was. “The timing of your arrival is fortuitous. We’re grateful for your assistance.”
Drakkon raised a hand, which upon closer examination was covered in myriad tiny scales, so fine they resembled pores. “I am not here to battle Krox. I’d make an especially tempting target, as Krox would love to claim any portion of my mother’s power that he can acquire.”
Voria inhaled slowly, through her nostrils. Why would none of these divine beings actually stand and fight?
The breathing exercise failed to calm her, but she still managed to moderate her tone. “Respectfully, what plays out here may determine the fate of the sector for decades. Or longer. The Confederacy aided you when Nebiat invaded, and our need has never been more dire. If you seek to preserve our alliance, then your aid is required.”
“Is that a threat?” Drakkon raised a watery eyebrow, and identical water slid down his arm, into his hand. It pooled into a slender spellblade.
“Are you even serious right now?” Ikadra pulsed. “You’re going to pull a weapon on the woman who’s going to save your ass? Man, you’ve gotten uptight in your old age, Drakkon. Your mom would be embarrassed.”
Voria continued as if the staff hadn’t spoken. “It isn’t a threat. Our alliance will be at an end not because I intend you harm, but because your allies will be dead.” She settled back on her heels, and waited for a response.
Drakkon gave a half chuckle, and the blade slid up his arm as quickly as it appeared. “Apologies, Major. Ikadra sees right to the heart of things, as usual. I admit that I posses the same arrogance most of my kind are burdened with. I do not enjoy being questioned, but I must remind myself who I am dealing with. Soon, you will stand above me.”
“So, uh,” Ikadra began, “why did you come, big guy?”
“I cannot intervene in the battle, but I have brought a gift.” The Wyrm cupped his hands, and swirling blue energy filled it. It bathed his features with its soft light, making his eyes shine. “Millennia ago, on the eve of Shaya’s death, my mother gifted her with a portion of her strength. I would honor Sha
ya, and honor you, Major. I would give you the same gift, a portion of my mother’s strength.”
Voria’s rage dissolved. She slowly raised her hands and clutched at Ikadra. How did one respond to being offered the strength of a god?
“Be forewarned,” Drakkon continued, as the glow brightened. “This magic is potent, and by itself will elevate you to a demigod. Absorbing it is dangerous, and costly. It will seep into your soul, and in so doing become a part of you. But you will need rest afterwards, perhaps as much as a day.
Voria hesitated. “It is a priceless gift. But I do not know that I can spare the time. What if Krox arrives while I slumber?”
“He will not,” Drakkon replied confidently. He delivered a grim smile. “You will likely recover by tomorrow morning, or mid-afternoon. And my analysis of the timeline suggests Krox will not appear for several hours after your recovery. I understand that makes you anxious, but the power will be needed. You cannot win without it.”
“Will it incapacitate me immediately?” Voria asked. There were many things left to do today, not least of which was welcoming Aran and the visiting Ternus dignitaries.
“No, quite the opposite.” Drakkon raised his hand, and the swirling ball of magic spun up into the air. Its icy crystals spun off into spiraling arms, and it perfectly mimicked their galaxy. “You will experience sudden euphoria, and dizzying power. It will last for several hours, and then you will desperately crave sleep.”
“Ikadra?” Voria glanced up at the lively staff’s sapphire, which glowed with a flickering inner light.
“Hmm, I can’t think of a downside, or a reason Drakkon would steer you wrong.” Ikadra pulsed thoughtfully. “I’d say go for it. If you’re going to have to brawl with a god you might as well have a fun evening first, right?”
Voria turned to Drakkon and smiled. “I’m ready.”