Oblivion's Crown

by M. H. Johnson

  Angry murmurs had turned to shouts of outrage and fury. Timothy blanched and looked ready to collapse as one trembling finger he had dipped into the closest container touched the tip of his tongue.

  “Death,” he whispered. “All these containers… they could destroy an entire city block!”

  Val smiled at Timothy’s look of horror, mirrored in the eyes of every Dauda looking his way. “And now, I think, you’re ready to see just how utterly you’ve all been played.” Pinning them all with his gaze, Val summoned his dwarven cube once more.

  Timothy peered for long moments at Val as hardened gazes all around him softened with awe, disbelief, or twisted with fury at the unforgivable betrayal that had nearly cost them all their lives. Val smiled as more than one Dauda caught his gaze, offering nods of respect, acceptance, even grimaces of apology.

  "Damn glad we broke protocol with one of our own," whispered one, a second nodding.

  "We were played like fools," another hissed.

  "But now we have a chance to make things right," said a young woman with a cold smile.

  "Thanks to the kid who risked his life, giving us that chance," said yet another, bowing his head respectfully Val's way. "Name's Greyson. For what you have done for us, for what we almost did to you, we owe you a debt, child, and I have every intention of paying it." More than one Dauda nodded in agreement as Val shook the older man's hand.

  Timothy gave an approving nod. "You never fail to impress me, Valor Hunter. Hanna would be proud to claim you as her own, if she were here before us right now." Though his smile remained, his eyes had turned calculating, and Val was reminded once more that despite having danced to Craven's tune, Timothy was no fool.

  "And she'd also be savvy enough to know that there was a reason her son had taken such a bold risk, showing us this cube only after we saw stark evidence of the treachery before us. And all at great peril to yourself." His lips pressed tightly together. "I would hear the rest of it, Valor. The time for games has passed."

  Val dipped his head, his eyes never leaving the nominal leader of the Dauda squad before him. "You're right, uncle. I risked my neck so you could all appreciate just how close we had all come to death, just how treacherous those vile snakes on the High Council truly are." He took a moment to measure the gazes of everyone present. "Because if we're to have any shot at taking down these bastards and creating a safe haven for our people, it's going to require multiple maneuvers on our end, and one of them involves taking on a mission I don't think anyone is likely to come back from. So before I ask anyone to risk their lives on what I'm about to propose, it's crucial we all realize what's at stake," he said, pointing once more at the explosives that had been rigged to kill them all, the moment Val made his presence known. "To know that this is the future our enemies have in store for us, and our loved ones as well. The horrid fate the Dominion would inflict upon anyone with a trace of Dauda blood, no matter how young, how innocent, how naive they are to their own destiny."

  Val clenched his fists, trembling with rage at the thought of his precious Avelina falling prey to the Dominion. Only then did he tell the Dauda before him his ultimate plan, and the sacrifice that would have to be made.

  Timothy gazed at him consideringly amidst the murmurs and hot whispers of his fellows before at last nodding. "A mad gamble, for certain. But considering the stakes, I can't say it lacks merit either."

  "But even if this works..." said one of the frowning Dauda.

  "One or more of us probably won't be coming back," Greyson said, silver eyes hard as steel even as he gave a nonchalant shrug. "It looks like I'll be paying that debt right damn quick, lad."

  Val bowed his head. "A lot of Dauda will owe you their lives, if we can pull this off."

  The older man flashed a mirthless smile. "No need to sell me on it, kid." He looked around at the containers full of caustic death Val's will alone kept stable. "Way I see it, this way, at least I have a chance of getting away clean. If we had just put you down out of hand..." His gaze grew haunted. "My daughter just had her first. And this is what the Dominion has in store for them both." His eyes flashed with sudden heat. "I'll be glad to bring those bastards down."

  "Then let me help you in that endeavor." Val handed Greyson several metallic flasks that had been carefully made by Blackenthorp's Oathbound engineers to exacting specifications. The man's eyebrows raised as Val explained how to use them to best effect.

  Timothy gave a soft chuckle. "It looks like those Dominion fools were outmatched, plotting against a Terran who's already mastered an art they are but novices in. Deadly as their plot nearly was."

  Val smirked. "As long as you don't press down this plate right here, it's as inert as inert can be. Once you do, though, it's live. You can toss it without a problem, full force. But once it makes impact, expect a catastrophic explosion. Alternatively, you can arm the bomb, and shoot it with a blaster from a distance, and you just might make it out alive. Particularly if you were, say, aiming at your target some distance away from the inside of an escape pod just before you seal the hatch."

  Greyson chuckled softly at that. "Something to hope for, anyway." His bemused gaze hardened. "And I'll take payment in my daughter's name, if you don't mind. That way she'll be well off, no matter what happens to me."

  His eyes widened as Val solemnly placed ten Elementium coins plucked out of thin air into his hand. "Nice trick you have there, kid. Shadowmind variant?"

  "Dimensional Rift," Val said.

  Timothy took the coins, squeezing the older man's shoulder. "I'll make sure Yolana receives these."

  For the first time, the man's hard, bemused mask slipped, revealing the naked fear underneath. "Please, Timothy. No matter what happens..."

  Tim nodded. "They will be safe, Greyson. Do you need anything before you go?"

  A soft chuckle as the older Dauda slowly shook his head, a calmly bemused professional once more. "No, old friend. This type of sabotage is my specialty, as you well know. I already have everything I'll need stored at the spaceport." He turned and gave Val a farewell nod. "Good luck claiming the throne, kid. And if you get the chance, stick Craven's head in a pain vat for me, would you?" Then he was gone between one eyeblink and the next, as if he had never been there at all.

  Timothy shook his head sadly before turning to Val. "I think it's time we met up with your sister."

  “I always knew you had a knack for this game, little brother,” said an awed Faith after seeing the cube for herself when Val, now leading Timothy and the group of Dauda, knocked on the door, introduced himself to the surprised pair waiting to ambush him, and discreetly pointed out where the cameras being used to spy on them were located. Only then did he play the cube for them, making himself comfortable on a plush leather couch besides his sister, her horrified eyes locked on the vision before her.

  She hadn’t hesitated to volunteer for the mission Val was in the process of proposing, grinning with approval at his plan.

  Val couldn’t help smiling back, awed anew at how very much his sister looked like their mother, down to the shape of her almond eyes and the dimple in her left cheek when she smiled.

  “I’ve always loved you, but I’ve never been as proud of you as I am right now,” Val said, clasping her hand and putting one of his dwarven cubes within it. “Thank you for volunteering, Faith. If you weren’t willing to do this...”

  Faith’s lips pressed together in a tight frown. “I know. We have to get the word out while we can. We’d be dooming our entire race, otherwise.”

  Val nodded. “And once we set the balls in motion here...”

  Faith flashed a sad smile. “No one will be leaving Jordia for a very, very long time.”

  Val chuckled ruefully. “I’ve missed you, Faith.

  His sister nodded sadly. “I know. We were forced apart for years, never got a chance to talk after, you know... and now we might never see each other again, even if everything goes as well as we could possibly hope.”

  Va
l swallowed and nodded, wiping his eyes, refusing to call the furious sting he felt tears.

  Faith had no such reservations, smiling warmly as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m proud as hell of you, too, brother. Now why don’t you go show those bastards what happens when someone messes with our family.”

  Val squeezed her tight before letting go. “You’re damn right I will. Are you sure you’re going to be able to board in time?”

  Faith nodded. “More than enough time. It's a straight shot from here to the space port. My ship will be approaching the jump gate just in time for the evening news.”

  Val and his sister shared a grin at that, clasping hands. “Faith?”

  “Yes, Val?”

  He swallowed, not quite sure how to ask the question. “Do you level-up?”

  His sister’s smile was all the answer he needed. “Mother raised no fools, Valor. Tell Dad I love him, okay?”

  “I will,” he said, discreetly wiping away a tear.

  And when he looked up to give her a final hug farewell, she was already gone.

  “Val? It’s time.”

  Val turned to face Jade, pleased to see her son looking much better by her side, giving Val a sheepish smile, still favoring one leg, but upright once more.

  “Name’s Petron. No hard feelings?”

  Val grinned, shaking the kid’s hand. “None at all. Not with anyone. You were all just doing your jobs, as was I. And right now, we have no more important job than to save our people. Are we ready?”

  Petron nodded, piercing green eyes a mirror of his mother's, half a dozen Dauda behind them, favoring Val with nods of approval.

  You have a +6 reputation amongst members of your own clan who saw your recordings! They now understand the horror awaiting them and their families, and all are anxious to flee as fast as they can. But they will stay long enough to protect their own.

  Val smiled, taking a quick mental glance at his renewed Silbion stores. He was more than pleased to take his enemy’s precious resources and make them his own.

  “Well then, let’s get going.” He flashed a cold grin. “I’d hate to be late for the evening news.”

  50

  Bethany screamed as her world became one of unending torment, Craven's cold gaze locked with her own, cruel lips worming into a vicious smile as his Psionic assault tore through her mind.

  "I am afraid there is a price to be paid for your arrogance, Bethany Calvar, daring to think you could ever be more than my son's prize of war. And that price will be the exquisitely painful death of everyone you ever knew, ever cared for, before your head is put in a pain vat as well."

  Craven's smile grew as Bethany twisted and fought against her bonds, the chrome-headed doctor by his side placing clamps upon her skull. Bethany's gaze suddenly filled with the sight of brutal-looking instruments she knew would become a source of exquisite, unending torment for her, even as she was forever more lost in a delirious daze of mindless agony, once the procedure was done.

  "You can't do this..." she whispered, before her eyes bulged in panicked desperation as Craven's gloved palm clamped over her mouth, his lips twisting in a smirk as she fought to breathe.

  "I can do whatever I choose, whore! The accords are but a tool designed to keep inferiors in their place! Do you really think any councilmember has ever paid them heed when it suits us not?" He chuckled coldly. "I savor what is to come, Bethany. I shall leave just enough of your cortex intact that you have sufficient self-awareness to appreciate the horror of your broken mind even as I take everything away from you that you value! Your ability to pilot, to act, to charm, to embrace reason or logic or anything save an animal's desperate panic! And most especially, the gifts of our people shall forever be removed, leaving you a shattered husk despised by all!"

  Taunting laughter washed over her. "Don't worry, dear Bethany. We will not kill you. Yet. It's a pity we had to butcher your mother so quickly, her genes truly are a prize worth killing for. A prize you have proven the worth of once more, taking out near a dozen of my pilots before we finally brought you down."

  He smiled into her terrified gaze before finally releasing his palm from her gasping mouth.

  "From your loins will come the brilliant vanguard that will one day lead my son's armies, helping to assure his ironclad rule of this world for generations to come!"

  Then the doctor turned on the hideous device of chrome and steel in his hands, whirring like the dental drills she had once sensed flickering in her Val's nightmare-filled sleep. At the time, she hadn't understood the horror he had felt. Now, though, with that device whirring away as it came for her skull, she understood his sickening dread all too well.

  Craven's eyes twinkled with unholy merriment. "Yes, dear Bethany. Embrace this moment with me. For now it is time to drill away all those nasty treacherous bits of brain that would dare to defy my son!" He squeezed her cheeks, shivering with anticipation as the doctor slowly lowered his drill. "Look in the mirror," he snarled. "I want you to see with your own eyes the destruction of all you could ever have been! I want to savor your expression when you realize your ability to scheme, to strategize, to embrace cogent thoughts, has forever been taken away from you!"

  Bethany held back a fresh scream as he squeezed her mouth so hard her tooth cracked. A spike of agony that was nothing compared to the horror roaring through her mind. "I want to capture the look of priceless horrified disbelief when you realize your life has been reduced to an endless nightmare of confusion and despair! The moment your damaged brain realizes that you have well and truly lost everything! Even the solace of your own mind! Only then will you realize that my clan owns you, body and soul, harlot! And only when we have taken everything, absolutely everything from you many years from now, ripping our investments free of your loins one after another until your body has no sacrifices left to give, that we will we even permit you the mercy of death!"

  Low, cruel laughter washed over her.

  Then he tore off her ear.

  She screamed, but even blinding pain couldn't match the vileness of his words. "And even then you will not be through suffering for us, Bethany Calvar. For I possess the best doctors, you see. Doctors who assure me they can heighten the intensity of pain vats to levels undreamed. Unending, without risking the spontaneous deconstruction of your neural matrix. Assuring centuries of agony unending for my family's pleasure, and our pleasure alone!"

  He flashed a final cold smile, on the verge of shuddering with anticipation. "Doctor, proceed."

  The doctor's cybernetic eyes dilated with tiny whirs before he gave a solemn nod, gazing at Bethany as dispassionately as he would a slab of meat, even as she kicked and screamed against the reinforced straps binding her, far stronger than what was needed to constrain any normal Jordian. Then again, genetically modified as her mother's bloodline had been, she was anything but normal.

  Her desperate struggles only caused Craven's smile to grow.

  Before his features twisted in a homicidal glare when frantic knocking could be heard from just beyond the doorway leading to the sterile chrome and stainless steel operating room Bethany had found herself regaining consciousness within, only to be mocked and tortured by the monster before her. His favorite torment had been taunting her with the lobotomy now only moments away.

  A cold glare and the doctor immediately stepped back, Bethany allowed a desperate moment's reprieve as Craven snarled at a clearly panicked house servitor.

  Desperately, she tried to think of some way to extricate herself from this fate worse than death.

  But her foes already knew of her abilities. She was still trying to focus her will through the drugs flooding her system, and her bindings were beyond even her superhuman strength to break.

  Then she was frozen to absolute stillness as Craven roared and beat the servant in a savage display of frenzied violence. He then turned around, glaring at Bethany with a fury beyond words.

  His hands and the wall behind him were spattered a brilliant
shade of crimson, the air alive with the coppery tang of blood and the sickly stench of voided bowels and death.

  "Did you plan this, you harlot? Is this your doing?" Craven roared, his Psiblade crackling to life, but an inch from her bound skull.

  Slowly his furious gaze cooled. He gave a slow shake of his head. "No. You've already been reduced to mindless terror." He immediately dashed to the central computer banks of the laboratory, gazing up at the monitor currently displaying her vitals before his bloody fingers tapped on the dozens of crystal keys as the doctor stood obediently by, disconnecting the monitor from the central computer to use as a hyperion transmitter, pulling up the late night newsfeed, of all things.

  And for all that Bethany was consumed by terror as her darkest nightmares of being a mindless cripple were but moments away from becoming a reality, she couldn't help feeling a jolt of fierce pride for the man coldly gazing out from the massive hyperion screen that she, Craven, and the good doctor were all transfixed by, both evening news anchors gazing at the unwelcome intruder with barely contained panic from behind their silver-toned news desks.

  Craven had blasted the speakers in his haste to hear what Val was saying, and the look of apoplectic fury on his features was almost as sweet to witness as the actual words from his lips.

  "For those of you just tuning in, I'll say it again. My name is Valor Hunter. The blood of Earth and Jordia both flow through my veins. Some of you might have heard of me. I'm the Terran who dares to walk the Path of Kings."

  Her Val could be seen holding up a bronze-gold cube several inches in diameter, an eye-catching contrast to the constantly displayed city feed on the back wall of the newsroom he had somehow commandeered, nighttime Newford seeming to twinkle brightly behind him. Craven could hardly take his eyes off the screen, but made quick use of a second small hyperion channel below the main one.

  "This is High Councilor Craven! The central news station has been taken over by terrorists! They must be dealt with at once!"