by Chris Fox
Voria focused on the spell, and allowed the magic to play over every living creature on the world. Dogs and cats and people and even a few surviving livestock become one one-hundredth of their former size. Her magic both stabilized and fortified them in a way that would allow them to survive the sudden change, and their reduced size made it possible for Nara to teleport them all at once.
Such a feat was beyond nearly any mage in the sector, but Nara had been to more void Catalysts than anyone living, save perhaps Aran. She could do it, if it could be done.
The transformation completed, and Voria metaphorically held her breath as she awaited Nara’s spell. It would take long moments to build, as even the Spellship took time to replicate a spell.
And, as Voria watched, she did feel a sudden surge of void. The trouble was that surge didn’t come from the Spellship.
Voria focused her attention on the area where the pulse had come from, and realized she was detecting a microscopic Fissure in Ternus’s umbral shadow. It was no more than a meter across, which was just enough space for an armored fist to poke through.
Divine levels of void magic swirled around that fist, and then fire, until a deep, angry purple obscured the Fissure. Before Voria could so much as contemplate reacting, the spell released and shot toward the planet. The arm retreated, and the Fissure snapped shut in its wake.
The spell continued down to the world, and Voria identified it even as it hit. “My gods, he’s disintegrating the planet.” She instantly summoned a missive, and flung it down to Nara. “Get out! Get out, now!”
The disintegrate spell slammed into a mountain range on the southern part of the world, on the opposite hemisphere from the Spellship, thankfully. A dark, purple cloud oozed over the planet’s surface, while hellish void energy filled the cracks forming across the planet.
The Spellship lifted off on the opposite side of the world, sluggishly clawing for orbit as the destruction spread. Unmitigated grief spread through Voria as the life signs were snuffed out, one after another. In less than a minute the entire surface had been covered by the cloud, and every last life sign ceased.
But that wasn’t enough. The disintegrate continued its grisly work, and the planet began to quake. The core, both charged with magic, and no longer contained, detonated spectacularly, flinging billions of tons of rock and debris in all directions.
It took several moments for Voria to locate the Spellship, and a sliver of relief pushed into the grief. Nara and Pickus were fine, along with their people.
But Ternus? The twelve million survivors were dead, and from an external perspective, from the perspective captured by the drones watching the whole thing, Voria had just murdered a world. They’d seen her cast a spell, and at that spell’s crescendo their capital had come apart, and their friends and family had died.
Someone had just doomed Voria’s relationship with Ternus, and she strongly suspected she knew who it must be. Talifax had finally entered the game, it seemed, and she had no idea what she could possibly do to regain the ground he had just cost her.
Their chief ally would likely declare war on them.
14
Damage Control
Nara guided the Spellship into high orbit, and winced as the planet detonated. A translucent bubble appeared around them, insulating them from the magical explosion. Fragments of rock pinged off the ship’s wards, discoloring them slightly with every impact.
The whole thing was over in moments, and just like that, all that remained of Ternus was a cloud of dust and debris. Nara waved a hand, and the scry-screen shifted to show that cloud, proving to Nara that what she’d felt was real.
She just couldn’t wrap her brain around it. They’d been so close to saving those people, and at the very last instant a master strategist had cut them off at the knees. She didn’t need to speak to Voria to know who’d done it. There was only one being it could have been. One being with the strength of a god, which is what such a spell must have taken to cast.
In that instant Neith’s cursed gift sent her thoughts spinning in a dozen directions. How strong was Talifax? Could a guardian, which was theoretically a demigod, be stronger than some gods? Would a stronger god’s guardian be correspondingly stronger than a weaker god’s?
The questions were trivial right now, and she recognized her mind’s attempt to reconcile the utter defeat she’d just witnessed.
“Nara?” Pickus called from the far side of the bridge where he sat at a hastily installed desk. “I’ve got Nimitz on the line. Sounds like he wants to talk to Voria, but even we haven’t done that yet.”
“Stall,” Nara ordered. She turned to the scry-screen, and triggered a missive to Voria. It connected instantly, and her ghostly glow filled the screen. “You know who has to have done this.”
Voria nodded wearily. “Talifax, yes. His motives make perfect sense. He’s hamstrung our relationship with Ternus.”
“He may have done more than that.” Nara folded her arms, and wished she were elsewhere. “Nimitz is on the line, and I’m going to have to deal with him. There’s a very real chance that they’ll declare you an enemy of the state. This could mean war.”
“I’m confident in your ability to handle it.” Voria pursed her lips. “I’m going to retreat to the mirror and see if I can determine what to do next. Contact me when you’re done speaking with Nimitz, and I’ll translocate us someplace safe.”
Nara bit back a hasty reply about Voria needing to take responsibility. “Of course. I’ll handle it.”
The scry-screen winked out, and Nara’s shoulders slumped. She really hated this job. “Pickus, go ahead and put Nimitz on screen.”
“Thank you, Voria,” Pickus muttered. “He’s all yours.”
The scry-screen resolved into Nimitz’s grizzled face. His eyes were alight with rage, and his hands were trembling. “I ain’t even got words for what we’re going to do to you. You tell her that. I don’t know if this was a botched spell or some sort of con job, but it don’t much matter. This means war. You gotta know that.”
“Admiral,” Nara offered as she struggled to rein in her temper. “That spell wasn’t Voria. Ternus has other enemies, and one of them is trying to—”
“I don’t even want to hear it,” Nimitz broke in. He stabbed an accusing finger at the screen. “You blew up our planet. Twelve million people died, along with any hope we had of reclaiming our world.”
Nara thought furiously. There was nothing to be said, and she knew it. But she tried anyway. “Admiral, there is now a second inhabitable system in the sector, and that was created by Voria. You can see that—”
“No one,” Nimitz growled, “is alive to occupy that bloody planet. There are plenty of habitable planets out there. Depths, we’ve got Colony 3 lined up as a new capital. What we need are people. We’ve lost nearly six billion in the last year. That leaves less than four remaining across the entire sector. Humanity is in real danger of being wiped out. I know you like hanging out with Shayans, but you are human, right?”
Nara sighed under her breath. “I don’t see it that way. This isn’t about any one species.”
“So you don’t see yourself as human. Got it.” Nimitz’s expression went cold. The rage was still there, but lurking under the surface now. “You’ve got one hour to leave the system. If you’re still here after that, then you will be treated the same way any other invading force would. If you are sighted at any Ternus world, you will be opposed. You ain’t welcome here anymore.”
Nara opened her mouth, and then closed it again. What could she say? Talifax had done his work damnably well.
15
Going Home
The massive doors swung shut behind Aran with imposing finality. He knew somehow that he would never be allowed to find this world again, and that he had all the answers he would ever get from Neith.
He drifted back toward the Talon, allowing his spellarmor to handle the navigation to free himself to think. Neith had given him a lot to unpack, so th
at was exactly what he needed to do. If Neith was the doctor, then he certainly didn’t like the medicine.
This was going to be so much fun.
You fear home? Narlifex rumbled. Why? We can destroy any Wyrm now.
“Sometimes I wish I could see the universe like you do.” Aran affectionately patted Narlifex’s hilt. “I don’t fear going home. I dread it. They’re all going to try to use me like I’m the chosen one in some bad holodrama. I can’t fight my way out of it. Quite the opposite. If anything, I need to find a way to bring them together when they don’t even see Outriders as sentient beings. I hate politics.”
Ah, Narlifex pulsed. Then I hate politics too.
Aran drifted up the ramp and through the blue membrane, back into the Talon’s cargo hold. There was no sign of Bord or Kez, but both Rhea and Crewes were waiting. Crewes had removed his armor, which had shifted back to a cat and now lay curled up near his feet.
Rhea stood at attention, of course, and snapped a salute as he approached.
Aran removed his helmet, then returned the salute. “At ease, Outrider.”
Crewes snorted out a laugh. “You look like you didn’t hear nothing good. Get anything we can use, sir?”
“Yeah, but as usual, it sucks.” Aran sketched a void sigil with his index finger, and slipped out the back of his spellarmor. At one time he’d felt naked without it, but now? He was formidable in his own right, just him and a spellblade. Formidable, right up until he had to go toe-to-toe with a god. “Neith wants us to go back to Virkon. She claims that Nefarius gets top billing right now, and that we need to stop her ASAP. She confirmed that Nebiat is controlling Krox, and thinks we can kick that can down the road a little ways, at least until Nefarius is beaten.”
Rhea’s face darkened into a scowl. “I have no wish to return to Virkon. They refused to cleanse me, and instead chose to make my corruption someone else’s problem. The children of Virkon are cowards in this reality.”
“They’re many things, but I don’t know that coward is one of them,” Aran countered. He shook his head. “I get it. They’re irresponsible, and their constant infighting is as exhausting as it is disgusting. But they represent the strongest remaining military in the sector, and they happen to have one of the few remaining gods. Neith told me that Virkonna might be the strongest surviving. Perhaps stronger than Krox, but if not, she’s certainly the strongest god that might be considered an ally. Put simply, we need Virkon.”
Rhea inhaled a long, slow breath through her nostrils, then gave a single nod. “I will put aside my personal feelings, and I will work with them if required.”
“I’m not too fond of that rock either.” Crewes spat on the deck. “They weren’t too nice to the major, not until they realized she was more of a badass than they were. And they didn’t do right by Kheross, neither. Scaly and I didn’t get along, but he always had our backs in a fight. Wasn’t right that they sent him away.”
Rhea eyed Crewes as if seeing him for the first time, but said nothing. Crewes seemed oblivious, and his attention was still on Aran.
“I’ve got even more baggage on that planet than you guys.” Aran started walking from the hangar, toward the bridge. Rhea fell into step next to him, and Crewes walked a few paces behind. “My sister is down there, and I used to work for Olyssa. For years. I did whatever she told me, and as far as she’s concerned, I’m her favorite childhood pet. She doesn’t see me as a person, and getting her to help us isn’t going to be easy. The only mortal she ever respected was Voria, and Voria’s got her own stuff to deal with.”
“We got any allies there, sir?” Crewes called as they entered the bridge.
“Possibly.” Aran frowned. “It could be tough to find them though. Apparently, Inura has gone to ground there. If we can find him, then he might be able to help us wake Virkonna. If we can do that, then we might be able to fight back. Gods, I hope so anyway.”
Aran walked up the ramp into the Talon, and left Neith behind forever.
16
The Pitch
Frit closed the cover of the tome and sat back with a contented sigh. The story of the Vagrant Fleet had been riveting, and she’d followed the adventures of Shaya across six books. Frit had never been overly fond of the planet Shaya, but the warrior Shaya was something else entirely. The books were hilarious, and she’d learned a lot about how the world she’d been raised on had come to be.
Frit glanced around her quarters, and tried to ignore the sudden emptiness she found there. They’d given her a bed, and a wonderful golden desk that was immune to her heat. She had as many books as she could wish, and even access to a holorecorder if she wanted to watch Ternus vids. Those she had to be careful with, as they did not react well to extreme heat.
Yet only when she was reading did she feel like she belonged. She could forget her situation here, which was both wonderful and terrible. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel gratitude, but she also wanted more. She wanted purpose. And friends who she saw every day. More people like Kaho, who’d been quite distracted over the last few days.
“Hello, child.” The voice was friendly, but it crept down Frit’s spine. “Have I come at a bad time?”
Frit looked up to see a spectral version of Nebiat hovering in her quarters, not far from the bed. She wasn’t here physically, which meant that none of Frit’s offensive spells would work. Frit relaxed a hair, but only a hair. Nebiat might not have the limitations that Frit assumed, especially given her newfound power.
“Hello, Nebiat.” Frit rose from her bed, and eyed the woman who’d freed her and then used Frit’s sisters to wage war against her enemies. She felt no anger or affection. She felt nothing. “This seems like an extraordinarily dangerous place for you to visit. Are you here to make peace with Voria? If so, I’m not the person you want introducing you. They aren’t fond of me either.”
“I came for you.” Nebiat gave a half smile and a soft laugh. She gestured at Frit’s quarters. “You can’t tell me that you’re happy here. That these people accept you for who you are.”
“So you came to taunt me then?” Frit raised an eyebrow. This was beneath Nebiat.
“Hardly. I came to offer you power.” Nebiat paused, then took a deep breath. “Let me rephrase that, because I know how you’ll take it. I’ve come to offer you a voice in the future of your people.”
Nebiat was right. Frit had been about to launch a retort about not being obsessed with power, but now she was curious. “Oh?”
“Your sisters have been granted a magnificent temple on my world, a world my children have chosen to call Nebiat.”
Frit chuckled at that. “I’m sure they worship you. Why should I care?”
“Because your sisters lack leadership. Because they are few, and right now they are in danger of fracturing.” Nebiat’s face softened into what appeared to be genuine concern. “If you return with me you can offer them the leadership they need. I will elevate you to guardian, giving you the strength to determine your destiny, and theirs. You can build a future for your people, and the cost is small, I assure you.”
“Too small to believe, I bet.” Frit folded her arms. “I’ll admit I’m curious.”
Nebiat sighed prettily. “You’ve misjudged me, Frit. Time and again. I want a future for both our people and I need your help to do it. For that future to have any prayer of success…you must help me extricate myself with the devil’s bargain that Teodros created for me.”
Frit’s eyes widened as she suddenly understood. She gave a delighted laugh. “You’re controlling Krox, but you’re worried that you’re going to lose that control. When you do, he’ll destroy you. Is that it?”
“Something like that,” Nebiat admitted, her smile evaporating. “I am no longer mortal, and cannot journey to the relevant libraries to do the research. I need help, Frit. And it is in your best interest to help me. Do you really want Krox free? Right now I am restraining him, but I assure you the fate he has planned for your sisters is much, much more cruel tha
n you can imagine.”
That gave Frit pause. Nebiat was evil to the core, in the sense that she would do anything to protect her own interests. But her interests seemed to be in building up her people. Krox would have a much more reductive set of interests, which would involve enslavement and wholesale slaughter.
“Let’s say I agreed to his deal with you. What’s involved?” She was skeptical of course, but also more interested than she probably should be. Going home might mean she wasn’t so lonely, and there was a good chance she could persuade Kaho to go with her. She’d miss Nara, but that was pretty much the only thing she’d be leaving behind.
“If you agree,” Nebiat explained. “I will invest you with a portion of my divine power. You will become truly immortal, and you will gain the ability to translocate anywhere in the sector. You can come and go as you choose, which would free you to stay here and research my…dilemma. I will not ask you to betray Voria or your friends. I merely seek a way to extricate myself from my father’s trap, without loosing Krox on the sector.”
It all sounded plausible. She wouldn’t be asked to do anything untoward, and as she understood things, a guardian operated independently of its host god. Nebiat couldn’t control her unless she used a binding. There was a chance this was merely a way to get Frit out of the Spellship so that she could be captured, but she tended to doubt it. That wasn’t Nebiat’s style, and she didn’t gain enough from having Frit to make it worthwhile.
No matter how Frit looked at it she couldn’t find a downside. She took a deep breath, and exhaled a puff of smoke. She might regret this, but it had to be better than wasting away here. “Will you give me some time to think about it?”
“Of course, child.” Nebiat nodded. “I won’t consider you an enemy either way, but I am very much hoping you will help me restore our people to greatness.”