I had grown much taller than she, yet could still remember looking up at her.
“I will mourn you when you’re gone,” I said, softly.
She didn’t respond, but her expression lightened. “Are you ready, Yahweh?”
“I’ll never be ready for something like this.”
“We have a winning chance. The odds are much better than they were for Qaira.”
Leid had paused toward the end of that sentence. “Does it hurt to say his name?”
She smiled, sadly. “It hurts to think of him—of what he must think of me.”
“Is he really in Exo’daius?”
“Yes,” Leid said, lowering her eyes. “I’ve no idea what Calenus has told him. Everything, probably.”
“If he’s told him everything, he won’t hate you.”
She laughed. I didn’t know why. “You have bigger things to think about. Rest as much as you can for the next several days, because I fear we won’t have any of that where we’re going.”
That was impossible; not with all the preparations in store. I nodded nonetheless. Without another word, Leid mashed her cigarette into a tray on the bench and slipped inside. As she left, Seyestin appeared.
“We’re done,” he said.
“I’ll be there in just a minute,” I said, holding up my unfinished glass of wine. Seyestin seemed annoyed, but heeded my request. I was enjoying the warm tingles in my stomach. Seldom did I drink, but when I did, I usually craved sedation.
VIII
FOLD
Qaira Eltruan—;
EUXODIA WAS MUCH MORE SOPHISTICATED THAN I’D THOUGHT.
Scholars were able to telepathically link to the attica database like neural software, and I spent several days ‘downloading’ information to memory. Solar systems, universes, histories and theories I’d had yet to even hear of—I now had an excess of information at my disposal; all things that I had never learned under Leid’s instruction, because none of them pertained to The Atrium or Contest.
The puzzle of how scholars were so quickly assimilated into Enigmus was solved. Their knowledge was presented through euxodia, easily accessed by any inquiring mind. I had probably learned a thousand years of work in a matter of hours.
Scholar I was, albeit a reluctant one.
I had no intention of staying here.
Although a scholar’s lifestyle was tempting—multiversal secrets known by no one else, exploration, purpose—I still had things to do. Enigmus welcomed me, all of them, despite my history. I was Vel’Haru now so all was forgiven, but I didn’t operate like that.
There were scores to settle, bridges to burn, and mend.
Leid was on my mind more and more lately, and I was growing cagey. There’d been little else to do while waiting for my wings to heal but reminisce, and the more I did, the more the cage closed in around me. All the little things crept back, and the ice around my heart began to melt.
Leid was Vel’Haru when we’d wed, and she’d had to re-ink her vows twice a month to keep her skin from regenerating. She had still worn them at Cerasaraelia, which meant she had continued to ink long after I was gone. Eight hundred years of filling.
She had kept my violin, and had even offered it to me after I had found it in her room. That night she’d cried herself to sleep.
I hated her still, but now that hate was laced with reprieve, dulling its blade. I needed to get out of here before I lost myself completely.
My wings had healed a day ago, and I made the decision to leave Exo’daius quietly, without any goodbyes. Goodbyes might instill doubt that I would ever return, and I needed Calenus to think I was on his side. I spent my final night at the Sanctuary, looking over the helices on the doors. I sifted through Kyothera, finding a single entry from Leid many years ago. I’d recognized her hand right away.
Calenus had said that scholars kept emotions out of their entries, but Leid’s was not so. She recounted her kidnapping and assimilation into the Court of Enigmus, writing in excruciating detail of her years of rape and slavery to King Aipocinus Loren. For the better part of her time here, before Aipocinus’ death, she had been used as his sex slave and trophy—the only guardian who hadn’t chosen fealty to Exo’daius of their own accord. She had had a husband and child, left behind on her home world.
I had no idea why she would write something like that in Kyothera, nor why Calenus would keep it there. Something like that would be humiliating to Leid, at least the Leid I knew, but perhaps not so much in earlier years. Maybe this had been a cry for help before she’d realized that there was none.
It was clear that Exo’daius was reformed after Aipocinus’ death, but I could also empathize with Leid’s undying hatred. Touching that statue hadn’t been a selfish want of power, but a way to kill the monster that had destroyed her life. She had never told me any of this, and I despised her even more for her secrecy. Had I only known…
I closed the book, seeking a final glimpse at the proxies.
When done, I headed for the portal at Kel’hanna’s Scar, deciding against telling Calenus about Atlas Arcantia or Leid’s re-infection.
I would handle all that myself.
IX
CURTAINS
Calenus Karim—;
“HE’S GONE.”
My eyes left the attica screen, settling on Ixiah as he entered my office. He paused, confused, knowing I’d heard what he’d said but didn’t seem the least bit surprised.
“Should we—?”
“No,” I said, returning my attention to Saphi’s contract. She left tomorrow morning and I hadn’t even finished her documentation. “I already know where he’s going.”
Ixiah tilted his head. “I thought he was staying here.”
“I’m sure you did. Disappointed?”
He scowled, souring his fair, boyish features. “No, I’d just like to be informed every now and then. Where do you know that he’s going?”
“Back to Leid.”
“He gave me the impression that he was never going back to her.”
“He might not think he’s going back to her, but he’s her guardian, and she’s his noble. He’ll fold eventually.”
But Leid would expire, and now I’d planted my seed in Qaira. Following her coma, her guardians would return and Enigmus could repopulate. Zhevraine seemed eager to take Leid’s place, yet honorable enough to stay by her noble until the end.
Leid told anyone who’d listen that she and her guardians were exiled from Exo’daius, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Leid left of her own accord, much to my dismay, and I had no choice but to excommunicate her when she’d pledged allegiance to The Atrium. She had tired me out—by then I’d just wanted some peace and quiet.
But Leid didn’t hate me, and I couldn’t hate her either. Not entirely. We were victims of circumstance, nothing more. Life was cruel like that.
I wouldn’t treat her guardians ill; that was counterintuitive. They were valuable. Despite her other flaws, Leid was an excellent judge of character. She’d chosen her guardians well. Even Qaira.
“What are you planning?” demanded Ixiah.
I smirked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He frowned, heading for the hall. “Always so scrupulous.”
“Come by my room tonight.”
Ixiah paused in the doorway. “When?”
“Before you retire. I’ll be up.”
He gave me a wicked grin, closing the door behind him. So easily distracted.
I finished the contract an hour later, encrypting the file and sending it to Senestyre Adeceptia, their federation house. They should receive it in time for Saphi’s arrival.
My night was far from over, though.
There was a request for a war tactician from the Amrial Alliance, another for a cartographer from Uton III. I was running low on tacticians, and Ixiah was the only cartographer in Exo’daius worth anything to Uton. I couldn’t send every scholar out on contracts or there would be no one left to man the fo
rt. Another reason why Leid’s guardians were so valuable; with her expiration I’d gain two war tacticians and a physicist. They were multifaceted too, what with their extensive knowledge of political intrigue and war philosophy. Time with Leid had done them some good. Always silver lining.
I reclined in my seat and stretched. About to tend to the growing request signals, my arm froze outstretched toward the attica probe, a sharp pain knifing its way across my head. It made me gasp, and for a second I sat there, wide-eyed, icy tingles shooting down my spine.
The pain vanished within seconds.
Warmth surfaced on my upper lip.
I touched the affected space, retracting my hand thereafter to gaze down at my trembling fingers. Blood.
No.
X
FIELDS OF GRAY
Qaira Eltruan—;
I MATERIALIZED IN CERASARAELIA’S LIBRARY. Stone-still, baited breath, I waited for the cavalry.
But no one came.
Our manor was empty, abandoned.
I glanced back at the podium. For a hundred years I’d wondered what it was, and now I knew—an Exodian gate. I laughed under my breath, recalling Calenus’ disappearance.
Creepy to think there was an open channel to Exo’daius in our house. Any scholar could waltz through whenever they wished, but I supposed they’d have no reason to. Calenus had probably given it to Leid in an ‘in case you change your mind’ offering.
I wandered the halls, gaze adrift, feeling no one else. Just as well; my task would be easier to carry out without an audience.
In my room, I changed out of the scholar garb and into regular clothes. On my way out I snatched my black jacket from the coat hanger by the entrance. No one had fixed the stairs or front door in my absence. My scuffle with Calenus was marked everywhere. Even the walls were still smeared with blood.
On our veranda, I breathed in. The crisp air stirred memories of times lost. I had lived here for a century, but it’d never felt like home until now.
I trekked through the abandoned city of Adure, head hung, hands shoved into my pockets. The dull, steady ache intensified, resuscitated by the idea of Moritoria’s sacred city tainted by the Celestial Court.
To my surprise, the Celestial Court was closed, its lobby dark and inactive.
There was no one in Purgatory. What had happened here?
It was early afternoon, well within business hours. There was no reason for the Celestial Court to be closed, unless…
I fumbled with my keys, letting myself in.
The interior was cool and smelled of stale coffee. It must have been several days since anyone was here. I looked behind Nephilim’s desk. Her drawers were open, cleaned out. Her schedule was no longer sitting beside the computer.
I looked toward my office, heading up the stairs. The stale coffee smell was coming from there. My files were still scattered across the floor, glass shards glittering in the darkness. The coffee dispenser was covered in mold.
No one had been here since I’d left. How long ago was that? Several weeks?
I sat on my desk and reached for the telecomm remote, tuning it to Heaven’s public news broadcast. The headlines made my eyes widen.
~COMMANDER LUCIFER RAITH DECLARES WAR ON CRYLLE.
~COMMANDER YAHWEH TELEI CALLS FOR ARMS
~THE JURY HAS CHOSEN TO PROTECT THEOSYNE, RUMORS SAY.
~ARCHDEMON BELIAL VAKKAR STILL MISSING AFTER DURN MANOR RAIDED BY OBSIDIAN COURT. TEHLOR IN CHAOS.
Well, that explained a few things.
Lucifer Raith had declared war on his son. Left field.
Which led to why I was here. Time to dig.
***
//search?database—keyword ANGEL PLAGUES
No search results found.
//search?database—keyword PLEXUS DEMONS
Five results found.
I had used Nephilim’s computer to access Theosyne’s private database. She was a higher ranking official than I’d thought. No hacking required.
I selected the first result, an archive file from the Plexus written a hundred years after Sanctum’s collapse. I skimmed the document, coming across the term Pleuroferrosis several times. The angels had fallen victim to an epidemic they called Pleuroferrosis, a progressive form of emphysema that scarred their lungs and made it impossible to breath. Death by asphyxiation.
Digging deeper, I found that a quarter of their population was killed by Pleuroferrosis over the course of a century. The Plexus had worked rigorously to find a cure, and a clinical trial was set in motion by Dr. Namah Ipsin and (of course) Dr. Yahweh Telei, funded by Commander Lucifer Raith and Theosyne Parliament.
Another hour of digging, and I discovered those clinical trials had somehow turned the infirm participants into demons, yet I had no idea how, as none of the entries explained it. All I could find was summarized documentation of the scourge (as Theosyne called it).
//search?database—keyword PLEXUS CLINICAL TRIALS DEMONS+PLEUROFERROSIS
My eyes settled on an archive titled: Transposon gene therapy for Pleuroferrosis patients, by Dr. Yahweh Telei.
I selected it, but three red X’s appeared onscreen, warning me that the file was encrypted and I was unauthorized to view it. Only users in a parliament house had access to the file.
I gave the screen the finger. I spent twenty minutes trying to bypass security, but I was about as good a hacker as I was a poet.
No use. I’d have to re-access the database from a parliament house, as apparently the Celestial Court was no longer considered one.
Theosyne was out of the question. I’d already gathered Leid and the others were there, planning for war alongside the angels.
Leid partnering with Yahweh Telei; hopefully Lucifer liked it rough.
No, Hell was the only option. With my transformation I looked near identical to the demons—yet the mystery as to why had yet to be revealed. Only a select few had ever seen me, and that was at the hearing. Eight hundred years would have wiped the face of the Nehelian Regent out of everyone’s memory. No one there would know me as Alezair Czynri or Qaira Eltruan.
Avernai was the closest layer, and the least protected to my knowledge. Sneaking into Avernai’s parliament would still prove tough, but thankfully I’d had a hundred years of stealth training for such an occasion.
***
All of the portals in the cephalon were deactivated. Hell was in lockdown.
That meant I had to fly to Avernai, a two hour descent from Moritoria. The fog didn’t help any, obscuring floating rocks and debris, preventing me from moving at maximum speed.
I’d been wrong; my wings weren’t fully healed. Releasing them was excruciating, and each flap revived the ache of my still-sore wing slits, shooting pins and needles across my shoulders.
Soon the fog disappeared and the sky grew darker. Avernai was cast in permanent dusk, with pillars of hazy light breaking through cloud cover. I’d landed an hour’s trek from the city capital, knowing good and well that aerial patrol units would spot me if I flew any closer.
I stood alone in an open field of dead yellow grass and cushion-shaped hedges. The wind was cold and arid. The distant sound of roaring jets subverted the silence, serving as a reminder that I needed to move before one of the guards decided to check their ground radar.
I sprinted over the wasteland, head down to keep the wind from freezing my face. It was colder here than in Moritoria. Once upon a time this kind of weather was nothing to my Nehelian skin, but I had settled in more temperate climates since and was no longer used to it. A harrowing thought.
Silhouettes of spires appeared over the horizon, and I slowed. Avernai was surrounded by a wall—a hundred feet in height, not much reinforcement. But as I got closer I spotted a dozen aerial guard units skirting the perimeter. Jumping the wall was out of the question.
The city gate was guarded by ground patrol; there was a transport craft way-station nearby. I was crouched behind an embankment bordering the valley in which the city rested
. About to start my steep descent toward the way-station, I froze as thunder broke the sky. I looked up—and then ducked—as a giant zeppelin soared past, its tailwind strong enough to nearly toss me down the hill. The zeppelin landed at the way-station and a few passengers got off, though a lot more were boarding. The sign read that it was Lohr-bound.
This was my chance. There was enough of a crowd now that I could drift through unnoticed.
I joined the crowd, moving through them unseen. I stopped at the entrance line, watching as each civilian presented a ticket to the guard before being allowed entrance into Avernai.
A boarding pass from the zeppelin? I hoped so, since an official form of identity was impossible to procure. A boarding pass I could handle.
I backed up, taking a moment to think, and bumped into a young demoness that had stepped into line behind me. The collision was hard enough to knock the satchels from her arms. Her belongings scattered across the ground, and I winced.
She gave a startled cry and scrambled to grab them. I helped her, muttering an apology.
The demoness looked over my face as I handed her a few items. I could tell by her expression that she found me attractive. Even better. I’d been taught to pick up facial cues and body language in training. At the sight of me she had relaxed, the irritated look melting into one of mild intrigue.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, looking genuinely so.
“No mind,” she murmured, belongings in-hand once again. “Are you enlisting?”
Enlisting. That was a good excuse. “Yeah, you?”
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 70