by Scott Baron
“Are you all right?”
“I-I think so,” Charlie stammered. “Shit. Marban––”
“I saw. But there is no time to mourn. The Rixana delivered a massive assault and bought us some time, but we must come up with a new plan.”
“Right. A plan,” Charlie said, climbing to his feet.
He looked around. More than half of their number were gone, either killed outright, or frozen and buried alive. Magic was low, ammunition was low, and the mech was gone. The human and Wampeh walked to see if there was anything in their supplies they might have overlooked. Anything to help their cause. What they found surprised them.
Leila sat atop a crate, feeding Baloo a bottle of milk. At her feet, Malalia Maktan lay trussed up and gagged, and very much worse for wear, both eyes swollen, her nose caked with dried blood.
Leila shrugged. “She tried to hurt Baloo,” she said, matter-of-factly.
Exhausted as they were, and despite the dire situation they faced, Charlie and Bawb couldn’t help but laugh.
It was short-lived, however. Friends had been lost, and more would follow. Now, above all else, they had to prepare.
Chapter Sixty-Six
“Still no word, Visla,” Dinuk said, eyes averted.
“Then she failed,” the furious wizard said after a moment’s silent reflection. “Very well. Enough. We attack now, and I will lead the assault.”
“But, sir, we don’t know what––”
“The Zomoki is dead, Dinuk. That means we can focus all of our energies against the pirate ship above, should it be foolish enough to attempt to intervene once more. This time, we put an end to these rebels.”
He stormed out of the chamber to prepare for battle. His claithes were still drained from assisting Mester Norkal. They would take time to recharge. Time he did not have.
“Had I known I would need them again so soon, I’d have left her to her fate,” he growled as he surveyed the weapons at his disposal.
A pair of powerful slaaps would have to do. Fortunately, he had more than enough power of his own even without the artificially powered devices.
Bawb saw the attackers coming in the distance. “This is it. The visla’s personal ship is leading the attack.”
As if to punctuate his words, massive spells began erupting around them, only the ruined Earth ship’s bulk protecting them from the onslaught. They would be overrun soon enough, but that wasn’t enough for Maktan. He wanted them to suffer.
“How many of the pirates still wear collars?” he asked the Council intelligence liaison.
“It would appear at least a half dozen, Visla.”
“Good.”
“Without support from above, or that moving statue, we should be able to overrun them quite easily,” Dinuk pointed out.
“Not good enough. They will pay for their folly,” he said. “Make sure your slaves are secure.”
“They are.”
“Very well,” he said, then uttered a spell. “Amassula binari verata pa!”
It was no ordinary spell. It was the closely held, secret Council spell that would trigger any collars in the area. A brutal back door in case of uprising, only known to a select few of the Council elders. The spell wouldn’t last long enough to stop an entire rebellion, but in this particular instance, it would leave his prey in tormented agony while he landed and slew them with his bare hands.
The collar-wearing pirates fell to the ground, writhing in pain, clutching their glowing collars.
“What’s happening?”
“It appears to be a Council trick,” Bawb replied. “I will try to stop them.”
He quickly slipped an additional pair of thick konuses onto his arms and began casting a secret spell known only to his assassin’s sect. The glowing collars dimmed a moment.
“No you don’t,” Visla Maktan growled when he felt the disturbance in his spell, redoubling his casting efforts.
Bawb threw the konuses to the ground, hot from the engagement, then turning cold as ice, all of their stored magic used up.
“It is no use, the visla’s magic is far too strong. Without support, we will be overrun.”
Moments later, the visla’s craft appeared above, hovering just the other side of Charlie’s crashed ship. Despite the heat of battle, the powerful man couldn’t help but be a little amazed at the unlikely craft from another galaxy. Then he turned his attentions to the men below and increased the force of his spell.
One of the pirates died convulsing from the power surging through his body, while the others foamed at the mouth. Visla Maktan smiled, his bloodlust high, when an unlikely shifting of an unnatural jumble of reflections caught his attention. He spotted the large, glowing collar of the Zomoki hidden beneath them.
“Clever,” he said. “An unusual camouflage. But it is of no interest. The Zomoki is dea––”
The mirrors shifted and slid aside, falling to the ground, shattering to pieces. From beneath them, a dark and brittle form moved. Ara, her collar glowing bright, slowly rose to her feet.
“No. It was supposed to be dead!” he said in shock.
His terrified troops fired spells at her, but they had no effect as the Zomoki slowly rolled her neck, then took a deep breath, the dark and dull scales of her body cracking and falling away as she did. Ara took another enormous breath in, then let out a fierce roar that shook the very air the Council ships floated on.
With a flex of her mighty muscles, the dried scales burst from her body, sending the fragments flying like shrapnel. She shook vigorously as the dust around her settled, her body now glowing a bright, deep red, shining in the twin suns’ light.
“Cursed creature!” Maktan yelled. “Binari pa!”
The stun spell hit hard, making her stumble backward a step. But that was as far as she went. Ara cast a fierce glare, her golden eyes fixed on the visla and his fleet. Then, quite to Maktan’s surprise, she cast back with a roar and a burst of flame from her mouth, dropping all of his men within range, while igniting half of his ships with magical Zomoki fire. The collar on her neck glowed even brighter as he fought with all of his power.
Charlie caught Ara’s attention for a moment, and an enormous golden eye winked at him. Then she locked her gaze on Maktan and smiled. Moments later, the unbreakable collar around her neck exploded into tiny pieces, the shockwave knocking the smaller ships from the sky. Maktan’s vessel shook, then sank to the ground, his Drooks immobilized by the impact.
“Impossible!” Maktan said in shock.
All around him the Council’s fleet were turning tail and fleeing, the ground forces scattering while there was still hope of drawing another breath. The surviving rebels were few, but they were invigorated, charging at the downed ships across the field of death and destruction.
“Visla, we must go!” Dinuk said with more than a hint of urgency in his voice. “I have your emergency craft ready.”
“What?” the visla said, still in shock. “Oh, yes. Load my essentials. I am right behind you.”
Maktan looked at the dragon one last time. “Not today, but someday, you will be mine again.”
With that, Visla Yoral Maktan did something he had never done before. He turned to flee.
The sight of his trusty head of security bleeding out on the ground, his neck sliced nearly all the way through, caught him off guard, as did the dagger plunged into his side. The blade was enchanted, and he found himself quite immobilized.
The Geist slid back his shimmer hood, standing close to his target. “It has taken a lot of effort to reach you, Visla Maktan. Many good men have died trying to stop your and the Council’s plans. And all of that power, for what? To die without a whimper.”
He gently slid the knife free and placed it back in its sheath. “Magic is a tool to do the job,” he said, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “But not the best way for someone like you.”
The visla saw his assassin’s pointed smile, and Yoral Maktan experienced another new sensation at that moment. He
knew fear.
The assault had left many of the rebel forces incapacitated, and Leila had done her best to aid them in their agony. Unfortunately, this left Malalia unattended, and while she was beaten and trussed up, she was most certainly not lacking in fight.
With great effort she sliced her bonds against a piece of jagged metal, opening her forearms in the process. But that was of no concern to her, knowing full well she could heal them later. For now, escape was all that mattered. Escape back to the safety of her father’s fleet.
She saw his ship sitting on the red soil when she cleared the side of the Asbrú and took off running as fast as her feet would take her. Fortunately, the rebels were taking a moment to regain their senses after the Zomoki’s display, which gave her enough time to reach his ship unnoticed.
Malalia raced to her father’s quarters and stopped in her tracks. Dinuk, his head of security, lay in a pool of blood, his lifeless eyes staring at her, unblinking. Malalia didn’t know what to do. Then she saw his slaaps, which she quickly stripped from his dead body and slid onto her trembling hands.
Carefully, she pushed the door open.
Crouched over her father was a partially invisible form. She moved around the edge of the room, both fascination and horror rising in her as she realized what was happening.
The pale man. The Wampeh. He was drinking her father’s blood, draining him dry. He pulled his red lips from the fallen man’s neck and smiled.
“You again. My, my, you are resilient, aren’t yo––”
He didn’t get another word out before a full-force blast from the scavenged slaaps hit him, sending him flying out the large window, its force field deactivated when the ship went down. Again and again she fired, knocking him back until the assassin tumbled over the side, landing in the red soil below.
Bawb climbed to his feet, anger rising.
“Bob, we have to go!” Charlie said, reaching his friend’s side.
“No! I must finish my task!”
“You can’t finish it if you’re dead. They’re regrouping and coming back. And the Rixana sent word, reinforcements are jumping in from other systems. More than even Ara can handle. We have to go!”
Reluctantly, Bawb turned and ran with his human friend, looking back at the bloody woman standing on the visla’s crashed vessel’s deck. He had a feeling he’d be seeing her again. And when he did, he intended to finish her once and for all.
“What happened?” Leila asked when she saw Bawb’s bloody face.
“I was interrupted. Malalia––”
“Yeah, the bitch got away during the fighting.”
“She somehow acquired a slaap,” Bawb added.
“Oh? With her power, how are you not dead?” Leila wondered.
“I should thank you for that,” he said with a wry grin. “It seems broken teeth and a swollen tongue make it hard to properly cast a killing spell.”
“I’m sorry, my friends, but could we possibly continue this discussion after departing this world?” Ara said. “A great many Council vessels are on their way, and if we don’t make it to the upper atmosphere before they do, jumping will be impossible.”
“She’s right. We have a lot to talk about, but this isn’t the time. Grab the essentials and let’s get the hell out of here. The Rixana will grab her men and boogie out of here while we distract the fleet.”
They quickly gathered up their gear, strapping the nearest cargo containers and supplies to Ara’s harness, making sure the EVA suits were accounted for.
“There’s no more time. We must go. Now.”
With great haste they scrambled up her back and settled in atop her glistening scales. Ara flapped her mighty wings just once and shot into the air, quickly soaring to altitude for their jump. Like a phoenix reborn, Ara radiated power, and though it was something she’d done many times before, this time it felt easy. She cast without effort, and in an instant, they were gone.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
The Zomoki flashed into being low in the atmosphere of a small planet orbiting a deep blue sun. The air was warm, at least compared to prior jumps, their arrival being far lower than in the past. The array of Charlie’s Earth guidance system glowed faintly where it hung on Ara’s harness. Her supercharged magic apparently continued to trickle feed the device during and even after her miraculous rebirth.
“This is awfully low for you to jump in, Ara. You okay?”
“Fine, Charlie. Better than fine, actually.”
“I noticed. You care to tell me what’s going on? We thought you were dead.”
The dragon laughed gently in his mind. “Why don’t we land first, then I’ll explain to everyone.”
Ara circled lower, casually gliding over a densely populated city and its surrounding industrial and farming areas. The planet, it seemed, was teeming with a rather modern group of inhabitants. This was not some backwater planet in an undeveloped system. This was a hub world.
After making her passes across the region, Ara settled atop a hill outside the city. Charlie and his friends climbed down from her back and took in the view. Despite the powerful sun’s rays casting the world in that azure light, the view was breathtaking.
“What is this place?” Leila gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Tolemac,” Bawb said. “A planet of art and power. One of the few independent worlds in the Conglomerate, as well. They trade freely, though they do partner with the Council on most things. They did, however, retain their autonomy.”
“Too valuable a society to subjugate?” Charlie asked.
“That, and beloved by those they deal with. I have not been here for many, many years. That my talents would not once be required on a world with such riches speaks volumes, wouldn’t you agree, Wise One?”
Ara gazed over the sprawling society tranquilly. “It has been far too long since I visited this place, though this was an impromptu jump. In the heat of our escape, I latched on to the feeling of somewhere comfortable. Not home, per se, but close enough.”
“So that’s how it works,” Charlie said. “I wondered how you were so accurate in your jumps. But now that we’re safe on the ground, what the hell happened back there? And look at you. You’re gorgeous. And a little bigger, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
A fine plume of smoke wafted from the dragon’s nostrils as she shook with gentle laughter. “Yes, Charlie, I am a little larger, though you would do well to remember––with other species at least––that females tend not to appreciate having that pointed out.”
Leila laughed. “She has a good point, Charlie.”
“Yes, even I know this,” Bawb added.
“Guys, I know. Don’t ask a woman’s age or weight. That’s, like, dude rule number one. But this is different,” he said, looking Ara in her golden eyes. “You were dead. We saw it. Turned to stone, no less.”
“Ah, yes. About that. I suppose I should have warned you, but the change took hold faster than I anticipated.”
“So it was intentional?”
“In a manner,” Ara replied. “As you well know, the waters have restorative, healing properties. They contain great magic, stored over centuries, and in years long ago, my kind would occasionally visit the great Balamar in friendship and bathe in his waters. But then they were thought lost. A belief you have disproven, I might add. With no one using their power, the waters grew so much stronger. As soon as I felt it wash over my scales I thought it just might be possible.”
“What might be?” Leila asked.
“Possible for me to survive.”
It dawned on Charlie. “You drank the waters not knowing what they would do to you.”
“It was rumored to be possible, but none of my kind had ever dared attempt it. We are not a power-hungry race, and are quite content growing older and wiser, rather than risking it all in a grab for more power.”
“You are a unique species in that regard,” Bawb said. “I have seen many men and women throw their lives away in the ques
t for power. Especially those with the Council.”
“Yes. But unable to be freed from the collar and with the Council’s ships rapidly closing in on us, a drastic measure was called for. I figured I just might be old enough and powerful enough to survive. Survive, and be reborn, in a way. Apparently, I was correct.”
The similarity to certain creatures on Earth struck Charlie. Dragons. Zomoki, they were called here, but the legends of dragons back home always described them as some variant of lizard. Creatures that shed their scales when they grow.
“You forced a rapid regrowth, didn’t you? You made yourself shed your old skin by drinking the waters.”
Ara grinned. “Very good, Charlie. Though the process was far more violent than I had feared.”
“A hibernation. Like when you’re in a cave, right? Only this time you shed far more than a few scales. You shed years of wear and tear. I’ve experienced the waters. We all know what they can do.”
“Yes, they will make me combust,” Bawb said with a grim laugh.
“You, maybe. But us? We were renewed. In Ara’s case, kind of like a phoenix from its own ashes.”
“A what?”
Charlie smiled. “I’ll tell you the legend. I think you’ll like it.”
In another system, not terribly far away, Malalia Maktan cradled her gravely injured father’s head in her lap. He lay still, so very weak. She had driven off the Wampeh, but the legends of their power seemed to be true. Yoral Maktan, one of the most powerful visla’s in the Council of Twenty, had been drained of much of his magic.
The sound of rapidly approaching ships rumbled through in the corridors of the ship. Representatives of the Council, no doubt. Arrived to help in the fight, but too late.
“The Council, they cannot know,” he whispered.
“I know, Father. I shall hold your position while you convalesce.”
“You will do no such thing. Tell them to go, then fetch me a pair of konuses. I will heal myself while we pursue the Zomoki.”