Starblazer- Through the Black Gate

by Reiter

  When the gangplank withdrew into the side of the ship, the side door already closed and secured, the Star Gaper was no longer in Kannadi’s eye and Ernestan could finally allow some of the pain to register on his face. He put his hand to his mouth, but not before the pain forced his body to convulse and he spat as he cried. His knees bent slowly and did not stop until they met terrastone. Ernestan Geelmus sobbed, overwhelmed with humiliation, frustration, and the pain of having failed a very good and trusting friend.

  “We need you to get moving along… quickly!” And thus came the last signs that he was no longer of any importance to the Imperial House, perhaps not important to the Inner Rim Empire by any measure. Still, it was not the fault of a man who worked in the hangar. Ernestan was still somewhat surprised that the First Prince had given the order to see Kannadi back to her people. With the slightest thought of the young woman, Ernestan found the means to smile. To the last, she believed in him and wanted to fight to prove his worth. Possessive of vision, Ernestan could not see any benefit to allowing her to issue any challenges. The young Nalyik had proven herself against demon-kind, but the Imperial Elite were eager for what they considered to be justifiable retribution. For all her skill and passion, the outcome of such an engagement required nothing from the Stars.

  “Of course,” Ernestan said as he tried to collect himself. “I am so sorry to be an obstruction.”

  “Kindly make your apologies on the other side of the outermost wall,” the technician returned. With that, Ernestan stood up and walked quickly for the exit.

  Outside the hangar, four guards waited to escort the Star Gaper to his office for what would be his last appearance in the chamber. It was an Imperial decree that had been read to Ernestan by Count Quazeki. Stripped of all authority, he could no longer protect Fayja, and she had been taken back into service of Prince Valwonn; another thrashing blade in his side – another point of reality he did not have the power to address. Much like what Ernestan saw when the door to his offices was opened.

  “I understood I was going to receive the opportunity to arrange for the transfer of my things,” he said, looking at the completely empty rooms.

  “And you can, Star Gaper,” one of the guards replied. “You can arrange for their transfer from the furnaces… provided there is anything left!” Ernestan turned around quickly, feeling as if he had been kicked five times too many. He whirled around to see four Imperial Guards with their batons drawn and ready to engage him.

  “May I then leave?” Ernestan said as his body relaxed.

  “You know the way out, Gaper!” one of the guards answered as he and the others moved out from in front of Ernestan. Without issuing another word, Ernestan took his leave of the Imperial Palace.

  In the corner of a very small restaurant, Ernestan sat stirring soup he could not bring himself to eat. Removed from service and all of his personal property seized, he was a man without a home and no one would dare to say, in the public eye, that they were of any level of acquaintance.

  “You look like a man who could use a friend,” a tall, slender white man said as he sat down across the table from Ernestan. The Star Gaper just stirred his soup. “Call me Roger and let me say that I am not offering myself to fill that capacity, but the man I work for is very interested in you and your ability.”

  “I am not interested,” Ernestan said softly. “Please leave me be.”

  “I think we know the range of choice you have is slender at best,” Roger remarked. “You can’t save yourself… but you can save the owner of this establishment the cost of replacing furniture and removing blood splatter!” Ernestan looked up into the eyes of the man speaking to him, surprised at his direct approach. “Sorry, I don’t have time to make this novel-like! You move and we take the scenic route or everything goes black for you until we get where we’re going!”

  “You think that helm protects you?!” Ernestan whispered, focusing his thoughts to strike the man’s psyche. His body shuddered as the generated ThoughtWill was augmented and returned to his mind.

  “Yes, I do,” Roger sighed, slowly getting up from his chair. He lifted his left hand and looked at the glove, entering commands into the brace-com. “And now, so do you! G’night, Geelmus!”

  Ernestan was standing but barely conscious when the darkness was removed from in front of his eyes. He was in the middle of a very large office at the top of a very tall building. The lights to the posh office were off, but the moons and stars shined enough light into the room. Looking at the two full moons and the half planet, the Star Gaper had an idea where he might have been brought. A strikingly attractive woman stood behind him, holding the bag that was shrinking to the size of a glove. She smiled at Ernestan and backed away a long stride. Looking once more at the night sky, Ernestan stretched his neck and rubbed his eyes.

  “The Terran Triangle?” he asked.

  “Very good,” a voice replied as a man entered the room and took a seat behind the desk.

  “Am I to know the name of my host?” Ernestan asked. “Or are you simply Roger’s boss?”

  Leaning forward in his chair, the man’s face came into the moonlight. He was aged, probably older than Ernestan. His dark brown hair held scattered patches of gray, but the wrinkles around the blue-gray eyes spoke of a different sort of aging. This man had seen much – perhaps too much – and Ernestan could not feel his own touch with ThoughtWill.

  “I know,” the man said as he gestured over to the bar. “Care for a sip of brandy?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Ernestan answered, realizing that he was not bound. He looked up at his host as he pointed at the closest chair. The man slowly blinked, nodding his approval before sitting back in his chair.

  “I know… I know, believe me when I tell you that I know. And you may call me… Marcus.” The man signaled to the woman who nodded and walked over to the bar.

  “Roger and now Marcus,” Ernestan said softly. He turned to the woman who had removed the bag and smiled. “You must be Stacie.”

  “Spelled with an ‘ey’, Lord Geelmus,” she replied, pouring the second drink.

  “It must be difficult for you,” Marcus remarked. “To have all the suspicions and yet not one firm piece of evidence!”

  “I suppose that is arguable; one must confirm the definition of firm first.”

  “Quite right, Gaper,” Marcus said, receiving his glass. He looked over the woman and smirked. She smiled as she stepped away from the man to deliver Ernestan’s drink. “But as far as the Empire is concerned, that definition has been assigned and you are no longer a source of confidence!” Ernestan tasted the brandy and chuckled. He looked around the office and once more out of the enormous skylight.

  “Are you about to engage into a vision?” Marcus asked, sounding both surprised and very eager.

  “And there is the rub,” Ernestan muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing worth mentioning.”

  “He said, ‘and there is the rub’, Master,” Roger advised as he became visible and standing opposite of Ernestan. “He’s as quick as we were told.”

  “Indeed he is,” Marcus agreed, standing up from behind his desk. “So tell me, Mr. Geelmus, what have you put together so far?”

  “Without need to go into every detail,” Ernestan said as he took another sip of brandy, “… it would seem that you have had me disgraced and thrown out of the palace so that you could seize use of my abilities for yourself.”

  “And do you see that in the Stars?”

  “One does not need to engage in visions to see this plan unfolding,” Ernestan commented. “Any use of the eyes can see what is plain and true. Perhaps I used my talents too much and my eyes too little. That is not the case here and now.”

  “Oh?” Marcus asked, placing his glass down on the desk. “And what is it that you can plainly see?”

  “That you’re too eager, demon,” Ernestan said calmly. “This is a fairly elaborate production. You even used artwork that I have s
een to help solidify that this is somewhere in the Terran Triangle. And I commend you on taking a flat painting and turning it into this!” He gestured to the view of the moons, planet, and stars. “But the little details are so very important. There is only one planet where these two moons are full like this and where Vastion is made half of its image. That would be Dran. I suppose there is nothing wrong with that save for the city down there, brimming with activity.”

  “Very quick,” Marcus remarked, putting his hand to his chin.

  “Stacey is almost too good to be true,” Ernestan continued. “My eyes are not even looking at her but my loins can’t seem to forget her. Then there’s the brandy which tastes a bit more like blood than any fermented drink.

  “That you imbibed,” Marcus quickly added.

  “One does not receive visitation from emissaries of MoGo and walk around unprepared!” Ernestan proclaimed, standing up. “You have me without the weapon of my talents, but that is a far cry from having my compliance!”

  “Not by way of the easy route, Gaper,” Marcus said, allowing his eyes to change back to their natural glowing yellow. “But we have other means of gaining your skills!”

  “You should have led with that,” Shuronne said as she appeared in the office just behind Ernestan’s chair. “Because then you might have been able to get what you wanted before we were able to find you.”

  “Impossible!” Marcus cried as he glared at the young Chevalierra. “You cannot be here!”

  “And why not?” Shanvah asked as she walked through the wall next to Roger who quickly growled, lunging for the woman’s neck. Taking a step back and drawing her primary weapon in one deft move, Shanvah’s En-Blade removed Roger’s hands before cutting clean through his torso on the second swing. Shanvah looked up at her superior who nodded at the brief engagement.

  “My colleague has asked a very good question,” Shuronne resumed her inquiry. “Why is it impossible for us to be here? After all, we’re not in MoGo!” Marcus’ face twisted in confusion before his extended senses revealed that his false office had been intercepted in its departure from the Mortal Realm. They were in the bowels of the Castle of Freund!

  “Looks like it’s finally dawned on him,” Shanvah remarked, deactivating her En-Blade and setting her eyes on Ernestan. “You might want to make your way over to me, sir.”

  “You needn’t ask me twice!” the Star Gaper said as he quickly got up from the chair and jogged to stand behind the Chevalierra.

  “You must be some kind of new Daemonite,” Shuronne said, slowly approaching the creature portraying a man. “One that can slip by those of the priestly persuasion. Of course, working in the Inner Rim, there really isn’t too much need for that, is there? No, they confide in SpellCasteRs and Temple Chevaliers!

  “But I suppose, in the final analysis, it doesn’t matter if you tell me what you are. It only matters whether we can pull the truth from you!

  “Here is a truth I will freely give you!” Marcus spat, exploding in black fire and incredible force. Neither the light nor the force traveled more than three meters before the castle absorbed them, storing them away for later consideration.

  “Whoa! There wasn’t even a build-up of power,” Shuronne commented. “You had that ready to go. Nice! Lets me know more of what we’re dealing with here. Oh Quantil, you’re up!” Two purplish-black beams of light shot into Marcus’ back and he screamed the moment the young Witch started feeding on his power and essence. Shuronne turned and looked at Stacey and how she cowered back from those who had easily dispatched her master’s enforcer; a Daemonite she had seen easily slay a half dozen Chevaliers without even receiving a simple cut. Now he had been killed faster than she could accurately see what had happened. The fear kept her from moving. “Stay there and you won’t be adding to the body count.”

  “Can you free me?” Stacey asked as tears welled up in her eyes.

  “I promise you that we can try,” Shuronne replied, seeing hope more than sadness in the demonseed’s eyes. The lessons of her latest master echoed in her mind and she embraced the possibility that perhaps the creature was more than a Daemonite. “Your inquiry just earned you some leniency. Cooperate and we’ll see what can be done.” Stacey bowed to the Chevalierra and lowered herself to her knees.

  Quantil marched slowly through the wall, his mind focused on draining the demonseed of its power. As a Witch, Quantil could pull from any stride of Spell-Casting, but paid a very high price for each incantation. In order to maintain their reserves, Witches of the non-white perspective engaged in feeding. Taking too much could cause actual death, transforming the victim into a Spiritual Zombie. Such an act would mark the Witch, making them a WarloK. Feeding on a demon, however, carried no such price. With his personal reserves fully restored, Quantil now fed power into the many batteries that had been made for him since he had become one of the Dark Pawns.

  Marcus wanted to move, and tried to run away. His body did not meet his ambition and he fell to the floor. Quantil continued to suckle the power as he could feel the energy feed going into the disguised demon’s body increase in its potency, causing the demon to feel greater amounts of pain.

  “C’Zaddrus must be really feeling it,” Quantil thought. “I cannot believe we’re taking it to a demon!”

  “Focus!” Shuronne barked as she lifted her hand. Quantil disengaged from the feed, but kept the process to resume ready in his hands. The Chevalierra walked over to the smoldering figure and waved away the smoke from in front of her face.

  “Mortal!” Marcus spat as his body came up from the floor at a speed the mortal eye could not hope to track. He reached for the chest of this mysterious woman but was stopped hard by a thunderous straight punch she landed to his face. His forward momentum came to a stop and he was thrown back into his desk. With most of his face imploded, it was clear that the demonseed was dying.

  “Perhaps, “ Shuronne replied, “but not the sort you were expecting, creature!” She turned to look at Quantil, casting a strong glare at him. “Is it only power you can take from him?” Quantil’s eyes popped open as he stammered, saying nothing that anyone could understand. “Calm yourself, Witch!” Shuronne commanded and Quantil took in a deep breath, holding it before exhaling slowly.

  “I am not sure, but I could always consult with Cobalt and Imani,” Quantil explained.

  “Then let’s keep him from dying. Castle!” Marcus’ body faded from sight.

  “It is done,” the castle reported. “He is guarded by the master’s wards on all sides and he is also in stasis. Once removed from stasis, however, he will resume expiring. I do not possess the means to estimate how much time you have left.”

  “Understood, milady. Thank you…” Shuronne looked back at Quantil and nodded as her brow came up. “I suggest you get to consulting!

  “Teyan,” Shuronne called out, placing her right hand inside her left as they were draped in front of her. The young wizardry student quickly presented himself to the woman. “You called this one. Was this a fluke? Or can I depend on you to be my advisor?”

  “You can depend on me to try, my Lady,” the bald young man spoke, brushing his hand back over the top of his skull.

  “Well, you certainly have the mindset for it,” Shuronne smiled. “… and I know Aleesha and Shanvah could use the company. Why don’t you go and speak with them. Let’s see what the three of you can dream up for us.

  “Kaila!”

  “Right here,” the woman quickly replied while slowly stepping forward.

  “I think we need to check the wording of our operational mantra.”

  “You’ve had enough of being reactive?” the assassin inquired. Shuronne smiled before nodding.

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  The white staff moved so quickly in his hands that his mother had a hard time following it. But, she was not the only one concerned with the location of the weapon. The fourth and fifth combatants fell to strikes that they did not see coming, and the remaining seve
n people lost whatever confidence they had possessed when the challenge had begun.

  “You could always yield and apologize,” Zerrell offered, ducking under a double-headed axe meant to take his head off. A blind thrust to the crotch forced the axe-wielding man to drop his weapon. The stalk of the axe fell over the staff and was made to tumble. The blade landed in the foot of the struck man, and he screamed in pain until the mace of a cohort passed to the left of Zerrell’s dodging body and hammered into the man’s chest. He was lifted over the pile of three fallen comrades and carried into a tree that did not lose a leaf from the collision.

  “Hold!” Isse commanded, focusing her will into the minds of the men trying to kill her son. All of them came to a stop as Zerrell dropped to one knee, thrusting his staff into the ground. A muffled cry could be heard under the earth.

  “Why did you–” Zerrell stopped talking as he collected his staff and started toward his mother. She had obviously felt it first, but there was no mistaking the approaching presence.

  “And you say that the staff is your least favorite weapon?” Isse inquired, placing her left hand on Zerrell’s right shoulder.

  “It is not without its uses, but it lacks any real flare,” Zerrell argued.

  Isse smiled and nodded. “You might get a different opinion from those men.” Zerrell chuckled as the morning sky was made brighter. “I remember Chiaro telling me about this one. He said she had incredible potential.”

  “And the Light Priest is seldom wrong,” Zerrell added.

  “Seldom indeed,” Isse agreed.

  “And only now am I able to see it, wondering he saw coming to craft this contingency!” Isse thought. “I am a fool!” A white orb of light descended from the clouds, taking the form of a Star Lark before changing once again into Tolarra who landed on the grassy land, putting her eyes immediately on the daughter of Freund. “And it would appear that Chiaro was right yet again!

  “Well met, Tolarra Nyss,” Isse said, waving at the approaching woman.