Chosen of Chaos (Eve of Destruction Book 1)

by Benjamin Medrano

  Fya stood abruptly, her smile wide as she continued. “Show me to your cargo, so I can figure out whether I need to finish you off before Milady gets back. As long as you haven’t touched them, you’ll get out of here alive. If you have touched them… well, I don’t think you’ll be that lucky.”

  Sabrina’s stomach clenched so tightly that she was surprised she could even breathe, and she nodded numbly, then gestured to the doors. “T-this way.”

  She really, truly hoped that she was going to survive this with more than a couple of mythrite to her name. Mostly, she hoped she’d live and not be left crippled or a slave herself.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m sorry, Commodore Barstil’s schedule is full for the coming month. Would you like to make an appointment?” the receptionist replied pleasantly, and Evelyn scowled, looking at the palace gates. The Commodore was in charge of what passed for Rakal’s government, and he had a truly ostentatious palace, along with heavily guarded walls that were reinforced with enchantments. Not well-reinforced enough to stop her, but enough to slow her down.

  “You can tell the Commodore that if I’m still waiting outside in ten minutes, I have ten warp grenades that I will use on the palace on my way in,” Evelyn told the woman evenly, keeping her voice controlled despite her anger. “And even if he manages to survive that, he’s going to regret it in two days. Captain Eight-Fist is going to be arriving the day after tomorrow, and he is going to be exceedingly displeased with the Commodore.”

  For a moment the woman on the other end of the comm line was silent, then she spoke, her calm a bit strained. “I will tell him what you have said, Miss Tarth. May I contact you with his answer shortly?”

  “You do that,” Evelyn replied, cutting the line. Then she leaned back against the light pole to watch the gates and walls warily.

  She wouldn’t put it past the Commodore to try to take her out before she could do too much damage, but she doubted he was quite that stupid. Warp grenades were nothing anyone wanted to fool around with, since they didn’t just rip sections of reality apart, they also weakened the borders between planes in ways that often allowed horrible monsters to emerge. He wouldn’t want ten of them to go off inside his retirement home.

  As she waited, Evelyn watched the traffic moving along the street, a hint of amusement washing over her. The Commodore didn’t allow any aircars near his palace except on official business, which meant that most traffic was ground cars, hoverbikes, or simple, old-fashioned walking.

  It was the last that she was watching more than the rest. A half-elven man with dark skin was bargaining with a merchant while the black-scaled mountain drake behind him yawned and stretched, its saddlebags loaded with a variety of purchases. What intrigued Evelyn about the drake was that it had cybernetic eyes, something she didn’t often see on drakes. It must be an important companion of the man’s, though it seemed to notice her watching and looked in her direction… then it shrank back slightly, causing her smile to widen a bit more.

  A trio of senne, two women with light purple skin and a man with royal blue, were arguing with a shopkeeper over the price of armor maintenance. They were tall and muscular, which she was used to in their species, but the elven mechanic was standing her ground as she scowled at them, one ear cropped from an old injury. Evelyn expected that part of what made the smith so confident was the two-meter-tall warbot behind her, a gravity maul planted on the ground in front of it and with several energy cannons on back mounts. Despite its scarred exterior, Evelyn noticed that none of it appeared to be decrepit and all of the enchantments were high-quality, which improved her opinion of her competitor. With any luck for the mechanic, Evelyn wouldn’t remove her primary client.

  An android walked by, in the midst of a spirited conversation with a dwarven woman, all while the cybernetically enhanced guards at the palace ignored all of them to watch Evelyn nervously, and she gave them a cold, thin smile in response, which made them even more anxious. She wasn’t surprised, since she knew they had to be wishing they were somewhere else. Anywhere else, really, as if it came to a fight… well, that didn’t even need a discussion. If it came to a fight, they’d die first and they knew it.

  The chime of an incoming call rang in Evelyn’s head, and she answered it. “Evelyn here.”

  “The Commodore has adjusted his schedule and will see you immediately, Miss Tarth,” the secretary said, not quite hiding her relief. “Approach the gates and you will be granted entry.”

  “Excellent. I’d prefer not to have to destroy them,” Evelyn replied calmly, and cut the line with a thought. She pushed away from the light pole and casually strolled toward the gates, amused to notice how people seemed to unconsciously get out of her way. That was something which improved her mood, if only slightly.

  The guards tensed as she approached, and before she could even open her mouth, one of them hit a button and whispered something, then the gates slid open. The other man spoke up, the elf’s voice studiously calm. “Welcome to the Golden Palm Manor, Lady Tarth.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad this didn’t turn out the other way it could have,” Evelyn replied casually, prompting them to relax slightly. Then they tensed again as she paused, tilting her head, and added musingly. “Yet, anyway. It all depends on how your boss reacts. A word of advice? If you hear explosions inside the palace, run.”

  With that, she continued through the gates, amused at how stiff the two guards were. How easy it was to terrify common thugs always entertained her.

  The interior of the palace walls hadn’t changed much since the last time Evelyn had come through, and she scanned the area calmly. A wide courtyard was ahead of her, the white and gold checkered paving stones made of some tough polymer that shone brightly no matter how old it was, while to either side were gardens that gave a reasonably large empty space between the palace and the walls, while not providing much cover. The walls were merely to reinforce the shield which could envelop the entire compound and to house additional weapons, Evelyn knew, and more shields could be brought up over the sprawling complex. It looked like it was built of sandstone, though garish murals had been painted across it.

  She noticed that there were several gleaming and expensive air cars in the square, which may, may have indicated that the Commodore hadn’t been lying through his teeth about his schedule. The soldiers and bodyguards standing around the air cars were watching her warily, and as she watched, one of the bodyguards started reaching for her sidearm.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Evelyn interrupted, her voice pitched to carry across the courtyard as she strolled forward, and they all twitched slightly. “I’m in a terrible mood, and if you touch that pistol, I’ll remove your arm.”

  “I don’t believe you,” the woman replied, though her hand was hovering only a centimeter from her gun. She didn’t touch it, though, despite Evelyn keeping a close eye on her.

  “Try me,” Evelyn said, grinning slightly more. “Please, give me the excuse.”

  The woman started to draw, but then one of the other bodyguards snapped out angrily. “Hey! Don’t be an idiot! Do you want to get us all killed?”

  “I didn’t say I’d kill all of you. I said I’d remove her arm,” Evelyn corrected, still walking toward the front doors. “It wouldn’t be the first time today, and if she thinks she can do better than a heavy tank, she can be my guest.”

  “A what?” the woman demanded, freezing in place.

  Evelyn laughed softly, passing a couple of the locals with a polite nod, then entered as the doors slid open at her approach. As they shut behind her, Evelyn murmured. “Ah, the smell of cowardice… now, then.”

  She paused just inside the plush, overly ornate interior of the antechamber. Two flights of stairs led to the second floor, and she saw a couple of elevators as well, though she knew there had to be dozens of hidden weapons trained on her. The same had been true outside, but she didn’t care. If all else failed, she’d use her magic to shield herself, and that would block even m
ore damage than her armor’s shields.

  A pair of human servants stood ahead of her, a maid in a dress, and a man in a butler’s uniform, though both were more flamboyant than those Evelyn had seen in Peldra. That was the influence of being a pirate, as far as Evelyn could tell, but she didn’t much care if their purple and yellow outfits were normal or not. What they meant was that she had escorts, so she moved toward them.

  “I’m here to meet the Commodore,” Evelyn said simply.

  “Of course, Lady Tarth. Please, follow us,” the butler said, bowing slightly in tandem with the woman, then straightened. Evelyn already felt like she was about to break out in hives at the formality, but she resisted the urge to snap at them. It wouldn’t do any good, and they were just doing their jobs. If they attacked her, then she’d change her mind.

  Evelyn followed them as they led her through the doors to the palace’s center, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Either the Commodore had guests, or he was trying to be imposing. He should know how well the latter would work with her, but she wasn’t sure he remembered that properly, since he’d been stupid enough to let a group of incompetents attempt to assassinate her.

  Less than a minute later the two paused at a pair of doors, bowing deeply as they gestured to it with both arms and the doors opened before her, as they announced.

  “We present former Empress Evelyn Esendria Tarth to Commodore Barstil Skulltaker,” the two said in unison, their voices carefully amplified by the building’s systems.

  The throne room, and having possessed a throne room Evelyn recognized it with definite distaste, was lavishly ornamented and overly glittery, if you asked her. She wished that gold wasn’t so common these days that the Commodore could afford to plate almost everything in the metal, but it was a wish in vain. It almost sent her into a murderous rage, for that matter, but she managed to refrain, though it did add a digit to the compensation she was going to demand.

  There were nine people in the room, Evelyn noticed. Two guards, these two halfway competent, and she knew enough about them that she suspected they’d take two or three attacks to kill, not one, and the orc woman and dark elven man watched her warily, their hands near but not on their weapons. There was a group of men and women in clothing almost half as ornate as the throne room, which was to say tolerable and reasonably pretty. Evelyn took particular note of the haughty, bronze-haired human woman in front with the elongated pupils, who wore a significant amount of tasteful jewelry. Evelyn recognized a dragon in mortal form, and the dragon’s eyes widened ever so slightly on seeing Evelyn.

  On the throne was Commodore Barstil, and Evelyn smiled coldly at him. The dwarf was handsome enough, with a chiseled physique, dark hair, and a cybernetic eye that was a cold blue, contrasting the rocky brown other eye. He had a plasma cannon hanging from the side of his ornate throne, and she knew he had a powerful shield generator built into the throne. That wouldn’t help when she ripped the throne out of the floor, though.

  “Evelyn, what’s so important that you—” Barstil began blustering, and Evelyn cut him short.

  “Commodore Barstil, you have broken our agreement,” Evelyn said, walking in until she was in the dead center of a mural on the floor, one that she knew was effectively the targeting crosshair for his throne room defenses. If he was going to be stupid enough to attack her, she wanted to make a point. She thought that the way the orc paled slightly indicated she had. The dragon’s suddenly narrowed eyes indicated that she’d made more of a point than she’d intended, in fact.

  “What… what are you talking about? I haven’t broken any agreements!” Bartsil protested, sitting up straighter. “Explain yourself!”

  “An hour and ten minutes ago, the Bloody Dagger mercenaries, version seventeen in the local Mercenary Guild’s records, attacked my shop. They drove a tank through the city, destroying numerous stalls, and yet the notification links I have set up with your information systems didn’t warn me that they were doing so,” Evelyn replied precisely, her gaze fixed on Barstil, and he swallowed visibly. “Even if you somehow missed a heavy tank driving through Rakal’s streets, that is a breach of our agreement. However, we both know that isn’t possible. You deliberately suppressed the information because the captain of the ship paid you a bribe.”

  “I… even if you’re right, that’s no reason to threaten to destroy my palace! Warp grenades are incredibly dangerous!” Barstil replied, changing tactics suddenly as he straightened. “Why are you blowing yet another assassination attempt completely out of proportion?”

  “Oh, but I’m not. Blowing it out of proportion, that is,” Evelyn told him, a dangerous smile on her face now, and she glanced at the dragon and her retinue before shrugging and continuing. “See, you made a massive mistake. When they attacked, they destroyed an Echris combat rifle. A platinum special edition Echris combat rifle, serial number twelve out of twenty-five produced. It was completely and utterly destroyed.”

  “And?” Barstil demanded, frowning. “It’s just a rifle. An expensive one, but nothing more.”

  “Ah, then you won’t be worried that you’ll be explaining what happened to Captain Eight-Fist when he arrives in two days to pick up that rifle. The rifle that he’d reserved at great expense as a gift to Captain Keelbreaker.” Evelyn replied, her voice almost sweet now. “I believe that he was planning to give it to her as a courtship gift, as a matter of fact.”

  That finally shut Barstil up, and his complexion turned waxy as the blood drained from his face, and his guards both had the presence of mind to check for the nearest exits. Even the dragon inhaled slightly, which was understandable. When two of the Pirate Kings came up in the same conversation, it was not something to be taken lightly.

  After a few moments, Evelyn spoke again, her rage simmering now, rather than raging. Seeing someone in fear like that did wonders to soothe her mood. “Ah, I see you finally understand the depths of your folly. However, given who you are, I know that there’s only one way to ensure you’ve learned your lesson, and that’s to be wrung for every drop of mythrite I can get out of you.”

  “I… but I didn’t—” Barstil began protesting, and Evelyn interrupted again.

  “I don’t care,” she told him, not a hint of give in her voice. “You are not only going to compensate me for my lost sale, which is worth two months of my normal income, you will return the last year of my payments for information from you, and you will buy my property as I prepare to leave the city. You have made me truly angry, and if you don’t do any of those things…”

  Evelyn simply smiled widely, and spoke sweetly once more. “If you don’t, I’ll simply kill you and take what I want from your treasury. The choice is yours, Commodore.”

  Evelyn almost hummed as she strolled back toward the entrance of the palace, happy that she’d managed to get every bit of mythrite possible out of Barstil. The look of anguish on his face had been incredibly satisfying, and she was happy that she could easily get all of her things out of Rakal. If he wasn’t going to do his part, she wasn’t going to contribute to the city… though she supposed some people would be relieved to see her go.

  She was almost to the front doors when she heard the dragon clear her throat to her right, just a bit behind Evelyn. She paused, looking over at the stairs, where the dragon and two of her servants were standing. The dragon was pretty enough, Evelyn conceded internally, but she wasn’t interested in her. She was a dragon.

  “Pardon me, Lady Tarth, but I had a business proposition for you,” the dragon said calmly.

  Evelyn paused, examining the woman for a moment, then replied. “If you’re looking for weapons, I do have a rather large variety, but considering that you’re able to order from Draconic Suns, I doubt you need anything I carry. Also, I’m not a lady, anymore. I rather gleefully made certain of that years ago.”

  “Ah, my apologies,” the dragoness said, her lips quirking into a smile as she inclined her head. “You are correct about the weapons. While I’m certain
that yours are exceptional, there are certain things which don’t reach the public market. No, I had another offer. I happen to be in possession of one of the Echris rifles you spoke of, and if what you have said is correct, you could use one.”

  Evelyn blinked, then smiled widely in return. “Ah, but there you are wrong. See, Captain Keelbreaker is an enormous lover of Echris firearms, so I believe it’s Captain Eight-Fist who you should be speaking to.”

  “Perhaps so, but he has had… difficulties with dragons before. I believe that I would have difficulties convincing him to speak with me,” the dragon demurred, and Evelyn saw the two assistants shift uneasily. “Perhaps if I had an intermediary?”

  “I believe I understand,” Evelyn said, smiling slowly. “Well, for a modest finder’s fee, perhaps I could be of assistance. I believe it’s time to chat, Lady…?”

  “Xalryx. Call me Lady Xalryx,” the dragon said, smiling broadly, and gestured to the stairs. “Would you care to join me for a chance to bargain?”

  “Certainly,” Evelyn agreed, a bit amused.

  It was always possible that the dragon was about to try robbing her, they were known to do that. If she did, Evelyn could always just kill her. And if she did, it wouldn’t change much. No, if she could get on the good side of a dragon, she just might be able to purchase some truly fascinating weapons and armor. That made it well worth the risk… so she nodded and followed the dragon up the stairs.

  It really was difficult to keep from humming.

  Chapter 8