Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  Anna watched the General open the front door. But she had to stop him. She had to know one thing. ‘Will you ever let me join,’ she asked, and he turned, ‘if things get better?’

  He looked at her through dark, jaded eyes. ‘We’ll speak more of it again, Anna dear, soon. Enjoy your day, and I’ll see you at the celebration later tonight.’

  With that he left, and a tear rolled down Anna’s cheek as she opened the box to reveal a silver necklace, beautiful and stunning. But her stomach dropped as she picked it up to find at the bottom of the chain a small stone. It was smooth to touch and perfectly spherical. Contrasting with the silver, it was pure black. Dark. Beautiful. Terrifying.

  Breathing deeply she placed it back into the box and left it on the table, still littered with unfinished breakfast. Anna stood and left the apartment, now with one purpose: to find the only man she could trust.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DRUMS BEAT, ONE-hundred tremendous trumpets sang in utter harmony, and warm air welcomed a thousand elegantly-dressed guests as their excitement echoed through the Central City’s brightly-lit streets. The armed Guard stood by while a parade marched through, and the light erupting from the display as it passed the Central Tower could be seen right across the towering horizon.

  Gílana Berenguer watched the parade in awe, dressed in a long, sweeping gown in the Twelve City’s colours of purple and gold. She couldn’t remember a time when any celebration had been as big. She’d stake a guess that it would not have been in her lifetime. After the procession marched on she turned and floated along with the rest of the crowd, along the piazza, and past the fountain which had been altered to gush with golden water. The women around her all wore the same colours, and the men were clad in tunics of black, silver, and for some gold as well.

  Up the steps leading from the marble courtyard and into the bustling entrance hall of the enormous tower, Gílana looked up. The great height and beauty of the building took her breath away. As she stood still, however, a gentleman emerged behind her. His cold hand touched her bare shoulder. She turned sharply, startled and expecting to see Anna. But the man stared at her and didn’t speak. He smiled eerily in his black cloak, and bore a scar across his cheek, jaw, and lips. A silver half-mask obscured the top portion of his face.

  ‘You are Gílana Berenguer?’ he said, his accent odd.

  Gílana did not reply. Frozen, her heart beat with no space to breathe. Again his hand touched her shoulder, and he allowed his sharp fingers to stroke her upper arm with the lightest touch.

  ‘Oh dear,’ he said coldly, almost whispering. ‘How sad to glimpse upon such innocent beauty, while the end is nigh.’

  ‘Ex . . . Excuse me?’

  Slowly, the man snapped his neck to either side, before pausing. ‘Enjoy your party, little girl. All will change tonight.’ And he backed away, before turning and passing through the crowd and out of sight.

  Gílana shuddered. She stood still for a few moments. Dozens of bodies surged within the grand hall, and they walked around her as though she were a servant, or not there at all. She gathered herself eventually and turned to enter the hall. It took some minutes of searching the various clusters of lords, ladies, guests, and the uninvited who had decided to sneak in anyway, before she noticed her uncle.

  She moved swiftly to his side and didn’t speak with anybody. Old Anthea Godíno attempted to attract her attention, but Gílana hid behind a rather bored-looking waiter until she had lost the old trout. The face of the sinister man still hung in front of her; her body continued to shake as she imagined his face, his scar, the putrid smell of filth on his breath. She wanted Anna there with her. It had been almost an hour since she had seen her last and the room was already full.

  Her uncle laughed loudly nearby, entertaining a group of his captains, their wives, and husbands.

  ‘Fascinating indeed,’ he said, before turning to Gílana. ‘You’re unusually quiet tonight, dear,’ he said as he handed her a glass of wine.

  ‘Just a little tired. Has my sister arrived?’

  ‘She said she was on her way, darling,’ interrupted Anthea Godíno as she walked over and kissed her uncle on the cheek. ‘I saw her upstairs not thirty minutes ago. Seemed so startled to see me. Bless!’

  Gílana grinned nervously, wishing the squeaky-voiced little dwarf would waddle off already.

  ‘Perhaps I should go and find her,’ uncle Ruben said. ‘I really should have seen her this afternoon, and not left her to get ready on her own.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll be fine!’ hollered Anthea, clouting his shoulder and causing a portion of his wine to fall from his goblet and onto Gílana’s sandaled feet.

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ he said, massaging his left temple. ‘I’ve only just realised I forgot to get in contact with Callista. I haven’t seen her yet either.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ Gílana added.

  It wasn’t like Callista to be late, or to miss Anna’s birthday. Something wasn’t right. She considered telling her uncle about the funny man outside. Come to think of it, with everything that had happened lately, it was too important to ignore. She had to tell him.

  ‘Uncle?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, dear?’

  ‘Good evening, lords and ladies of the wonderful moon of Titan!’

  Together Gílana, Ruben, and Anthea, along with everyone else in the grand room, turned towards the source of the voice, expecting to see somebody stood at one of the upper tiers of the hall. But no one was there. Gílana recognised the voice immediately. The man from outside! She took hold of her uncle’s jacket.

  ‘I have to tell you something—’

  ‘Shush,’ he said, his eyes darting around the room.

  ‘Congratulations Titan!’ the voice said, ‘for managing to remain resilient, even when the opposing force was stronger, greater, and considerably more deserving of victory!’

  Nearby soldiers were at once rushing out. Uncle Ruben said something to one of them, who in turn shook his head in panic. What was going on?

  Then he turned to her. ‘Gílana, when did you last see your sister?’

  ‘Err . . . at home,’ she said. ‘She might still be there. In her room. She wouldn’t let me in—’

  ‘It’s coming from the central public-address system,’ a nearby Guard informed the General.

  Uncle Ruben cursed. That wasn’t good. Gílana knew that the public-address system was installed throughout the whole building, and was connected to numerous other important towers within the Central City.

  ‘You’re sure?’ Ruben asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the soldier replied.

  He ignored the soldier. ‘You’re sure that’s where she’ll be, Gílana?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Tell me,’ the cruel voice continued, ‘where is the almighty general, Ruben Berenguer?’

  ‘I’m here!’ uncle Ruben shouted, stepping into the middle of the dance floor while everyone around him parted. ‘I’m here and I’m listening! Who are you?’

  There followed a momentary pause, as though whoever spoke was considering their answer with care.

  ‘I’m the man who tore to pieces your docking city a few short weeks ago. I’m the man who has been living among you for some time. And I’m also the man behind tonight’s attack.’

  ‘What?’ screamed several of the crowd.

  ‘Let’s get out!’ yet more yelled, and throughout the hall people began moving in every direction.

  ‘Everyone, calm down!’ Ruben shouted. ‘Tell me who you are! Let us speak in person. Can we not do that?’

  Again there was a pause amidst the uproar, as crowds of purple, silver, black, and gold made to leave the party as fast as possible. The General stayed rooted in his position; Gílana stood firm behind him; Anthea Godíno wavered behind her. Several of the Titanese Guard moved towards her uncle, while the others fanned out amongst the crowd, attempting to keep order.

  ‘Go to Titan’s headquarters,’ came the eventual reply. �
��Go to the office of Lady Pinzón. And go alone. No Guard or people die.’

  ‘I am coming as well!’ another voice uttered. Gílana watched General Slimar Mauldeth shuffle across the dance floor and stand beside her uncle. ‘If you face one general you speak to both!’

  ‘Very well. But no more. And come unarmed.’

  Gílana wished he wouldn’t go, but deep down she knew he had no choice. He turned to her quickly and knelt upon one knee. ‘I need you to go and find your sister,’ he told her. ‘It’s so important that you do.’ He looked up to the closest soldier. ‘You will escort my niece to my apartment and find Anna. Keep your comm close.’

  ‘Yes, General.’

  ‘Once you have them both, take them below the city to the underground bunkers. Wait there with them until I send word.’

  ‘Right away, General.’

  Ruben looked at Gílana.

  ‘Yes, uncle,’ she said.

  He turned, and with Mauldeth limping alongside, ran from the Tower.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  THE STREETS OF Titan were in disarray. Distraught bodies and terrified faces rushed towards the Command Dome, hoping to catch a glimpse of the unfolding situation or else fleeing as far as they could. Such disorder was hard to calm or control, but the Titanese Guard could be seen all over, sweeping through the cities and doing all they could to keep unrest to a minimum. At least until they discovered what was really going on.

  The two generals sat in the back of a slow-moving ground vehicle, caught up in one of the pockets of confused-but-curious city dwellers, as they made their way through. Ruben watched Mauldeth occupy himself by rolling the tip of his staff around in his hand, tapping the bottom on the floor of the vehicle. Mauldeth’s left leg had been damaged several years back in a ruinous clash with a mob of Proximan mercenaries, and despite the possibility of near-perfect prostheses, the stubborn general wouldn’t have it. It simply meant that now they couldn’t cross the city by foot, and time was fast running out.

  ‘Have we contact with Lady Pinzón yet?’ Ruben asked.

  Mauldeth glanced up, shook his head.

  ‘You do realise,’ he said, ‘that I’m aware of yours and Maxim’s private discussions?’

  Mauldeth’s eyes narrowed. ‘And are you aware of what they concern?’

  ‘No. But given the present circumstance I think it would be sensible to inform me, don’t you think?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, lip twitching. ‘You know, Ruben, I was always amazed at your ability to observe the moral plateau and claim the sensible stance whenever it suited you, but turn your back on the rules if it took your fancy.’

  ‘Life isn’t always black and gold, Slimar. You should know that.’

  The swarthy general shrugged his shoulders and looked out into the streets. The great structure of the Command Dome was in sight.

  Ruben looked out and considered checking on his nieces. He sincerely regretted how his discussion with Anna had gone that morning, and he prayed she was still in her room and soon to be on her way to safety. He placed his comm away and forced himself to dismiss the worry. Now more than ever he had to focus on the task at hand.

  The ground vehicle stopped. Both clambered out and pushed through the gathering crowd. They bypassed the security line holding back anyone from entering the Dome, and entered to witness a dozen bodies filling the floor, saturating it in stomach-turning puddles of iridescent blood.

  ‘Whoever did this will pay dearly!’ Mauldeth growled.

  Ruben took out his coilbolt. ‘Yes, they will.’

  Noise from the sirens and the crowd soon subsided. The levels were deserted, and they quietly made their way higher. Lady Pinzón’s office was located on the sixtieth level. On the way, the tiled floor and clear white walls were again stained with the blood of battle. How many had attacked, Ruben could not guess. Their footprints now trailed a shimmering crimson path behind them, but their aged stomachs had tackled sorer sights.

  Maxim Pinzón’s door was shut when they reached it.

  ‘They said unarmed,’ Mauldeth reminded him.

  Ruben nodded, deactivated his weapon, and placed it upon the floor. Slimar Mauldeth opened the door and entered first. The office within was so unnervingly dark they could only see through the glow from the nearby buildings. But as their eyes adjusted to the black what they saw caused them to freeze. Surrounded by silence, Ruben could not only hear his own heart beat, but that of his fellow general’s as they both stared, painfully, at a lifeless body laid peacefully upon the thick wooden desk. She lay on her back with her hands clasped and resting on her middle.

  ‘My . . . My lady,’ Mauldeth wept, moving towards her. ‘What have they d . . . done to you?’

  Ruben placed a hand on his shoulder, his wary eyes having picked up on something else.

  ‘Good evening, generals,’ came the cold voice from the party.

  ‘Whatever happens here tonight,’ Mauldeth said, ‘retribution will find you.’

  ‘Maxim Pinzón has betrayed her people,’ the shadowed man said. ‘Her retribution is lay before you.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘We injected her with a nerve substance. Quite deadly.’

  Ruben focused and quickly became aware of several figures hidden within the shadows. ‘Don’t move,’ he whispered to Mauldeth.

  ‘The same one I administered to your old Iástron this morning . . .’

  ‘No!’ Ruben cried, charging forwards. Unarmed and helpless, there was no point in fighting, but he didn’t care. He threw Mauldeth off and charged towards the voice, but a form sprang from the shadowed corner and a blow struck his head, knocking him to the ground. He landed on his hip and agony filled his body.

  Seeing this, Mauldeth raised his hands, silent. Several figures, hooded and cloaked and wearing masks of silver metal, stepped into the shallow light.

  ‘Do as they say,’ Mauldeth said.

  Ruben had no intention of dying. But neither did he intend to submit to the whims of these creatures. He scanned the room from his position on the floor, analysing each figure’s position, weapons, and possible weaknesses. But he could see no way out.

  ‘This general speaks sense,’ spoke the wraith.

  ‘I will not take orders from a Crilshan!’ Ruben spat. The blades they held made it clear who they were, and only one enemy had ever had the audacity to attempt something like this.

  ‘I’d listen to him if I were you, Berenguer. If you won’t take our commands, do yourself a courtesy and stay silent. We don’t need you to talk. Only to listen.’

  He bunched his hands into fists. ‘Do not speak to me of courtesy, filth! I know why you’re here, and I can tell you your task is worthless. Your lord will not have a throne for long.’

  A sudden blow struck the back of his head and he fell forward onto his knees, grunting in pain. The leader stepped forward, the only Crilshan not wearing a mask. The General noticed a thick scar stretching down one cheek, all the way to his mouth, and across his lips.

  ‘Gordian,’ he said. ‘I should have known . . .’

  The Crilshan behind Ruben clutched his hair and pulled his head back, exposing his neck. Gordian pulled out his own spiked blade and thrust in, the tip touching to his throat. ‘Yes, Ruben Berenguer, I am Gordian. Servant of the High Lord Yux Dishan. Ibrahatima katha! Let the darkness run through your veins like pure, untainted blood.’

  The blade dug into his skin.

  ‘No,’ Mauldeth said. ‘There’s no need to harm either of us! You agreed to speak, so speak. I represent this world as much as he does. Give your message to me.’

  The Crilshan simply turned, amused, and said, ‘Oh General, if you had any idea what my message is.’

  ‘Yours is one of death and darkness, I know that. And no such messenger will be welcomed here whilst I am a general of Titan.’

  ‘You and your precious cities represent deception and lies,’ Gordian said, and he turned to Ruben. ‘Unfortunately you won’t have time
tonight to enlighten your famous Berenguer as to what you’ve been doing of late . . . what you’ve been speaking of.’

  Ruben looked to Mauldeth in panic. Was it to do with his and Maxim’s meetings? What were they discussing that he didn’t know?

  ‘What have you done?’ he cried.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Mauldeth answered. ‘If we’d known . . . the Dishan . . . it’s more than that, I—’

  ‘Oh no!’ Gordian said. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to take your transgressions to the grave!’ He pulled out a blaster, aimed it in his direction, and pulled the trigger. A black surge shattered the entire length of the windowed wall behind him; the glass plunged a sloping sixty floors.

  Slimar Mauldeth looked at Ruben, a single tear moving down his repentant expression, and he breathed one last word. The General understood.

  ‘Erebus.’

  Gordian kicked Mauldeth square in the chest, casting him out into the open air, where he plummeted alone to the stone far below. Though he struggled with all his might, Ruben couldn’t summon the strength to fight the Crilshan holding him. Gordian turned and cried, ‘Ha! The cripple fell like a rock!’

  ‘You bastard!’

  Gordian stopped laughing. ‘He was never important, Ruben Berenguer. But you are. I bring word from the High Lord Dishan himself. But it is not a message. It is a warning.’

  He looked into Gordian’s dark eyes—red and black. ‘Nothing you say now will mean anything!’

  Gordian ignored him, as though he had suddenly recognised the sirens which filled the city. ‘Do it!’ he ordered one of the masked men, who in turn activated something fixed to his wrist.

  Out of the shattered window a dozen explosions filled the cities, fire burning and black smoke soaring up to the domes’ inner arcs. The sirens and screams were drowned out by the creatures’ laughter, all around the fury-filled general.

  Gordian leaned in close. ‘You are to end opposition and hostilities with my lord and his armies. You will recall your forces from the Systems and agree to the sovereignty of the Dishan Alliance over the Alignment . . . and Titan.’

  ‘And if we don’t?’

  Gordian’s scarred lip curled. ‘If you don’t, my device will ensure you all die tonight.’