by Chris Fox
The void magic quivered as the earth reached it, then surged forward like a living thing. It clung to the rock and began to siphon the magic from it. The rock cracked and splintered, and the void oozed into those cracks. The rock itself dissolved, and the void grew stronger.
“There is no stopping it now,” Talifax said, and sounded pleased. It was the first time he’d ever expressed such an emotion. “They will come for us now, in strength.”
“What about Krox?” Skare asked. His own godsight was a weak, pitiful thing. He hated that he needed to rely on Talifax for information.
“Krox will not intervene. Not directly, though in the aftermath there are some intriguing possibilities,” Talifax explained. “No, Virkonna will lead the charge, with Inura yapping at her heels, as always. They will bring their ragged progeny. If your vessels live up to your promises, the ending is a forgone conclusion.”
Skare glanced at his guards. Talifax had paid them no mind. He had no idea if that meant Talifax had a huge blind spot where technology was concerned, or if the guards were simply not a threat. That terrified him, as they were his only real contingency plan. No one understood how powerful they were, but they’d find out soon enough.
“The vessels will live up to expectations, I assure you.” He tapped a sigil on the screen, and it shifted to show the two hundred vessels arrayed outside the Fist. Beyond them lay an additional five hundred conventional vessels, which were every bit as powerful in their own way. “I’ve not seen a goddess in battle, but you’ve asked for seventeen minutes. Be assured I can give you that.”
“Excellent.” Just like that, Talifax was gone.
Skare turned back to his screen, and watched the void devour the fist. It had begun.
“Lord Skare?” Caelendra’s pleasant voice sounded from the air around him.
“Yes?” He suppressed the irritation.
“Fleet Admiral Nimitz has requested a secure channel.”
“Open it,” Nimitz ordered. That was even faster than he’d expected. He waited until the admiral’s leathery face filled the screen on his desk. “Ah, Admiral. I’ve been expecting your call. I imagine there is some alarm about the magical phenomena enveloping the Catalyst?”
“I’ve got every captain on the line asking for orders,” Nimitz groused, his bushy eyebrows knitting together. “You assured me that construction on this super weapon was nearly done. You got any word, son?”
Skare found the title amusing as he was three times the Admiral’s age. “I do, Admiral. What you’re feeling is the NEF-1 unit’s activation. And we are going to need it.”
“What the depths does that mean?” Nimitz leaned back in his chair. “We don’t have any active engagements or known enemies. Unless Voria’s managed to get some rabble together. What is this, Skare?”
“The goddess Virkonna has awakened, Fleet Admiral.” Skare leaned back and perfectly mimicked the Admiral’s posture. Mirroring was powerful when seeking cooperation. “An elder god is coming for us, with a fleet of dragons. All your experience with the Krox is about to become very relevant. A different flight of dragons is coming, and they are seeking vengeance for your actions at Marid.”
“So you’re saying this is our fault.” Nimitz sounded skeptical.
“I’m saying that cleaning up the sector won’t be easy,” Skare countered smoothly. “What we’re doing is necessary, and was bound to make some enemies. You do have the option of fleeing, of course. My own fleet will stay. If you leave, though, I will not be able to protect NEF-1. Our best counter will be lost, and possibly used by our enemies against us.”
That got his attention. Nimitz sat up straight. “They won’t get past us, son. You got my word on that.”
56
Premonition
Frit had settled into her quarters, which were wonderfully crafted with an Ifrit in mind. Her bed was magical air, wrapped in a layer of swirling smoke to give it definition. The floor, walls, and most of the furniture had been shaped from obsidian, each piece crafted magically into the shape that best fit its purpose.
Rockshapers had sprung up all over the planet, and many had been employed in the creation of the temple. Frit didn’t know where their earth magic had come from, and made a mental note to ask Nebiat. Whatever the source, it gave their people options, and she found that reassuring.
Frit’s people were naturally gifted with fire, with provided them with battle mages. Their earth mages could supplement that, and if Nebiat could be convinced to part with some spirit they could create the binders that had made the Krox so feared throughout the sector.
Right now, though, Frit needed intel if she was going to formulate any sort of defensive plan. She needed to understand how and when Nefarius would return, and what role she might play in it. If they really could help Voria turn the tide, then Nebiat was going to have a very difficult time stopping Frit from marshaling every last dragon and every last Ifrit.
She walked to a small nightstand she’d dragged to the center of the room, and sank into a cross-legged position before it. The shard Voria had given her sat on the center of the night stand, glittering and refracting the light.
“I can still feel magic from this thing,” she whispered aloud, while internally praying wordlessly to any deity that would listen. “Let’s hope it’s still got some of the same enchantment.”
Frit drew slowly on her fire magic, and fed it to the shard. The jagged piece of enchanted glass drank greedily at the magic, so Frit added more. And more. The effort began to pull at her, but Frit gave it still more. “I hope this isn’t going to explode.”
A wave of energy washed out from the shard, and Frit was suddenly elsewhere. She floated in an unfamiliar system, and immediately spun around as she sought to orient herself. An angry star sat in the center of a system littered with asteroids and a trio of gas giants.
A debris field had accumulated around the system’s only planet, a large rocky world with no apparent atmosphere. Some of that debris was clearly the remains of spacecraft. Hundreds of them. Perhaps more.
But one feature leapt out over all the others, its magical signature rivaling the sun in brilliance. For the planet wasn’t a planet at all. A tremendous fist, made remarkable by its sheer size, orbited the star. The fist was bigger than most planets, and pulsed with earth magic.
Frit glided closer and attempted to see what kind of creatures might live on the fist, as she could feel many life signatures there. She hadn’t made it very far when a blinding pain shot through her temples. The closer she flew, the greater the pain. Frit stopped, and the pain lessened.
She withdrew a few kilometers, and it diminished further. Then, just to be certain, she flew closer again. The pain was blinding, and it took long moments for her to blink the spots away.
Frit released the vision, and reappeared in her quarters. Something was happening at the fist, which she guessed must be the Fist of Trakalon she’d seen on the Shayan sector map back in Eros’s office.
She wished she could talk to Neith and get her opinion, but knew that returning to her world, especially via translocation, would be a terrible mistake. She was on her own with this one, and she’d need to decide how to proceed.
Something bad was going to happen at the fist. Soon. And she had a feeling Nara was going to be at the heart of it.
57
NEF-1
The Talon materialized in a system that should have been unfamiliar to Aran, but somehow he recognized it. He’d been here, though how or when wasn’t clear. His memories had been restored, but evidently this was one of the pieces that hadn’t come back.
The orange star and matching gas giants were unremarkable. Only the fist itself was worthy of note—well, unless you counted the largest fleet in recorded sector history.
Hundreds of conventional Inuran vessels ringed the planet-sized fist. Behind them lurked three fleets of black ships, each containing a hundred vessels. Having the seen the footage on Marid, a hundred was more than sufficient to kill
your average demigod. How well would a full god do against them?
Dragons swam through the void all around the Talon, with clusters of spellfighters flying parallel as Outriders supported their Wyrms. It was an impressive sight, especially when considering that they outnumbered their opponents by a margin of two to one. Twelve hundred Wyrms were riding to war.
They fanned out with expert precision, with Wyrms like Olyssa and Aurelius leading the flanks. The center was dominated by the single most impressive sight Aran had ever seen. In that moment he felt a small surge of pride at being so closely connected to Virkonna, though he certainly wasn’t blind to her flaws.
The sky-blue Wyrm-goddess swam through the void at the head of their fleet, so large that their enemies would not be able to ignore her. Behind her came Inura, his white scales painted orange by the ambient light in the system.
The way he flew made it clear he wouldn’t be participating on the front lines of the combat, more like a squire following a knight than even a lesser partner.
Bord’s voice broke the silence, reminding Aran that his physical body was standing on the bridge. “See now that’s a god I can understand. Inura’s smart enough to let his lady lead the way, while he stands back and casts wards and heals and whatnot.”
Aran focused on his own physical senses, and looked around the bridge. The company had assembled, and were awaiting his orders. Rhea and Crewes had both moved to their respective matrices, and Aran moved to stand before the central one.
Bord, Kez, and Nara sat in the chairs against the far wall, within easy view of the scry-screen. Bord’s quip had gone unanswered, and all three sat in somber silence. They all knew how dangerous what they were about to face could prove to be.
“Listen up,” he said, quietly, but loud enough to gather their attention. Aran nodded at the scry-screen, which showed the fleet awaiting them. “We’ve got a job to do. Until now, we’ve been able to cheat. Back on Marid when this all began, Voria brought Bord back from the dead. We’ve deferred costs, and sought magical workarounds.”
Even Bord had gone serious at the mention of his resurrection.
“Today we no longer have that option.” Aran ducked into the matrix, and tapped the first void sigil. “We’re riding to war against the worst god this sector has ever known. Worse than Krox, because at least Krox wants to enslave us instead of devour us. Rhea can tell us all about the horrors Nefarius will bring.”
The Outrider went pale, and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Victory will be costly. Perhaps impossible. But I will accept annihilation before I will ever go back to the theft of my very will.”
He let his gaze roam between them, and took pride in how straight they stood. How confident they appeared. His people were ready.
“Thats why,” Aran continued, his words tinged with the same confidence, a certainty that what they were doing was the right course, “we’re going to cut the head off the snake. Skare is out there somewhere, on one of those ships. Skare will be orchestrating the ritual. We’re going to find his ship, break in, and kill him before he finishes. Odds are very high that he’ll have the highest concentration of magical and physical security available to the Inurans. This isn’t going to be like New Texas. There’s no eleventh-hour savior. Either we get the job done, or Nefarius rises and the sector is doomed. Skare knows that. Talifax knows that. They’re shrewd, powerful, and impossibly well connected. They know our capabilities, and their answers are going to be designed with our abilities in mind.”
“What are you saying, sir?” Kezia asked as she brushed blonde curls from her forehead. Her hair had gotten much longer since she’d started dating Bord.
“He’s saying,” Crewes broke in, spinning the matrix’s command couch to face her, “that some of us ain’t coming back. We’re gonna take casualties.”
“Oh, bloody depths,” Bord cursed, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “This is going to be a Starn situation all over again, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t at Starn,” Aran pointed out, “and we’re a whole lot more powerful than my first op back at Marid.” Aran flared his eyes with the same lightning Virkonna used, showing the depths of the magic he’d been given. “But the sergeant isn’t wrong about possible casualties. We’ll be lucky if any of us make it out. So I don’t want you to focus on that. I want you to focus on the mission. If we succeed, the sector gets to live. That’s worth any cost up to and including our lives. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Crewes said without hesitation.
Rhea simply nodded.
“Joost do what you can to keep us breathing, sir,” Kezia said. She eyed Bord with a clear tinge of fear. “I’ve got something to lose now.”
“I’ll do everything I can.”
“I know not everyone here trusts me,” Nara began. She paused to make sure she had everyone’s attention. “I know we’re not really…friends anymore. I’m sorry for that. It’s my fault. But I want you to know that you are all something greater than that. You are the only family I can remember, and I will fight to keep you all alive. I promise.”
“Nara’s got some strong spells, and Rhea is almost as lethal as her sour-faced primping lizard of a dad,” Crewes pointed out. He nodded toward Aran. “The captain ain’t even mortal anymore. I heard that Olyssa chick call him a demigod, if you can believe that. He don’t even age. If the captain could keep our asses breathing when he was just some wipe, then I bet he can get us through this now. I believe in you, sir, and I’m going down swinging.”
Aran hated the finality of it all, as if they were pre-accepting their own deaths. He understood, though, that separating themselves from this would give them the headspace they needed to win.
“Sir, we’ve got an incoming missive,” Rhea said. She extended a hand, but didn’t quite tap the fire sigil that would put it on the scry-screen. “Shall I?”
Aran nodded. He’d already felt it through the Talon, and knew who it was.
Admiral Nimitz’s grizzled face filled the screen, his beard longer and bushier than the last time Aran had seen him. Nimitz’s gaze swept the bridge, but stopped when they reached Aran. He gave a slight nod, still infused with respect.
“Hello, son.” Nimitz rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and leaned toward the screen. “I don’t see that up-jumped war criminal you like to ride around with. Was even she a bit squeamish about betraying her own race so she could suck up to gods and monsters?”
Aran looked up from the command matrix, and felt nothing but pity. Nimitz’s rage had consumed him. The admiral had presided over the deaths of most of his nation, and had watched as the Krox destroyed their way of life. The only road left to him was attacking anything that threatened what survived.
“I’m sorry it came to this, Admiral.” Aran returned the respectful nod. “Unfortunately, you don’t have all the facts. I warned Admiral Kerr about those ships, and I was sorry to hear about his loss.”
That scored a point. Nimitz winced. “Kerr was a good man and a fine officer. You don’t get to say his name, son. Not if you’re here to attack a Ternus fleet, the same way you attacked them in orbit over Marid.”
“I wasn’t even at Marid.” Aran’s eyes narrowed, and he forced down the anger. Railing at this man would only confirm his beliefs that Aran was somehow a monster. “You’ve been duped. The footage of us battling those ships came from Shaya. I was ambushed by Skare when I entered the Umbral Depths. You know me, Admiral. You know my principles. You know what I stand for and why I fight.”
Nimitz’s expression thawed a few degrees. “I admit it don’t sit well with me, and it ain’t at all like the man I’ve always believed you to be. You got a chance to prove it right now, son. If you tell me you’re here to kill the dragons advancing on our position then I’ll order every one of my ships to include you as a friendly. But if you’re here to attack us, then all that nonsense you said doesn’t much matter, does it?”
“I guess it doesn’t.” Aran shrugged. He met Nimitz’s gaze. “
I want you to know, man to man, that I didn’t do it. I’m still going to kill you and your fleet. I’m going to kill all those black ships. I’m going to kill Skare. Because if I don’t, another god rises. And this one won’t be nearly as gentle as Krox was.”
“That’s rich.” Nimitz barked a short, bitter laugh. “Son, unless I’m blind it would appear you’ve brought two gods of your own to attack us. But you’re worried about us doing the same? We ain’t raising a god, son. We’ve created a magitech device designed to kill gods. NEF-1 is gonna wipe the floor with your pet lizards, and I’m going to enjoy watching the atmosphere leak out of that fancy ship before it detonates. I hope that slit you work for shows up too, but if she doesn’t you can rest assured that when we’re done here I will find Voria, and I will make her pay for each and every Ternus life she’s responsible for.”
Void roiled deep within Aran. Nimitz had finally given something away, though Aran wasn’t certain yet how he could use it. NEF-1 was a pretty obvious moniker for the goddess they were about to resurrect.
Aran killed the missive and poured void and fire into the Talon. They accelerated, and began to catch up to Virkonna. She’d be at the center of the battle, and Aran wanted to be able to react quickly.
They had to find and stop that ritual, and they needed to do it now.
58
Something Sensitive
The conventional fleet, all five hundred ships, moved as one to block the Virkonan lines. They interposed themselves between the approaching dragons and the fist, further reinforcing Aran’s belief that the ritual was somewhere inside.
About two thirds of the black ships hung back, mostly clustered around the ridges of the fist, which provided cover and an easy means of escape if they were pursued. Aran knew the ships were valuable, but was puzzled as to why the Inurans wanted such large reserves.