Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  As the entire room watched the far wall, Edgar Mokrikov scurried towards his old friend. ‘I’m sorry, Ruben,’ he said. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  Ruben shook his head. Maxim held her hand over his chest, compressing the wound. ‘Let me,’ Mokrikov said. ‘Allow me this.’ And he went to place his hand over the wound. ‘I can help him. I can make him well again.’

  But a pale hand took his wrist as he leaned in. ‘No,’ Wivartha said, and he pulled Mokrikov up, tossing him to the ground in the centre of the chamber. ‘You will not heal that disgrace! He deserves to die!’ Then Wivartha stopped where he stood, silent.

  Lord Malizar moved towards the old Dishan and whispered something into his ear. The Crilshan stepped back and kneeled again.

  ‘The fate of Ruben Berenguer is no longer important,’ Malizar said, looking at Mokrikov, who whimpered where he was. ‘You have no right to heal him, traitor. I would snap your neck were your echo not so useful.’

  ‘Crilshar has won victory over Titan,’ Wivartha said to Malizar. ‘We served you as best we could.’

  Malizar watched Wivartha squirm. ‘That is true. But you have had your time, Wivartha Dishan. You have ruled as High Lord where you were neither deserving nor entitled. You have served your Córonat well. But Crilshar requires a new commander. Somebody young, strong, and able. Somebody untainted. Somebody who understands anger and revenge . . . and hate.’ He turned to Yux Dishan, sat on his throne, maimed, disfigured, and motionless, having watched events unfold. ‘Somebody like him.’

  Malizar looked to Mokrikov and nodded. The Rotavarian bowed in cowardice and staggered over to the mutated High Lord. Everybody stood transfixed and Ruben pushed himself up against the debris-laden onyx steps. Maxim and Aleksey looked up, still kneeling. The old Rotavarian shuffled up to the line of three thrones. Once there he pressed both hands over Yux’s deformed face, closed his eyes, and pressed down. Yux began to tremble and convulse.

  ‘He’s choking him!’ Wivartha said, he went to move forward. Malizar reached out a hand. The Dishan stood still.

  At once, Yux’s folds and masses of body, bone, and skin folded inward. His high-pitched whimpering grew into a loud, deep cry of anguish. Uneven hair extended down past his shoulders and his outsized robes hung away as his brittle body snapped into previously unknown positions. Within seconds a man sat back in the place of the deformed creature, and slowly but surely there stepped forward—wicked and powerful with the Dark Army at his command—a High Lord.

  * * *

  Under no circumstances, and certainly never before another, did a member of the Dark Race weep. But this one did. A dark tear fell down Yux Dishan’s cheek as he staggered over to his sister’s lifeless form, not caring for the blood in which he found himself immersed. And Yux rocked Avaj’s body, stroking her long, fair hair as she had for him every day of his unbearable, wretched life.

  Ruben watched, mortified at the man knelt before him—a death for which he was answerable.

  ‘One cruel aim deserves another,’ Yux said with unbearable grief. ‘You took from me everything. I promise you, all will be taken from you.’

  ‘I have already lost everything . . . I ever held dear,’ he said. ‘The assault on Titan took somebody very close from me. The attack at Aurora took my nieces. I know they are here, and I have brought down all the force I can marshal . . . to take them back.’

  Yux looked up to his uncle. Wivartha shook his head. ‘We are not responsible for the attack at the outpost you are referring to.’

  ‘Then who?’

  ‘I can answer that,’ said Malizar, flowing between them like a dark cloud. ‘If you accept your place at my side, High Lord, I will enlighten you all to the answers you so terribly want.’ Yux Dishan did not answer; he simply bowed his head in submission to the Córonat—the self-crowned man. ‘Now,’ Malizar commanded his cloaked guard, ‘leave us.’

  Once the dark soldiers had left the chamber the Córonat surveyed the kneeling bodies. The two Dishan men knelt side-by-side. On their knees, the two Rotavarians did not raise a chin. The two Titanese, however, gazed up—disgraced and at the mercy of an overwhelming darkness.

  ‘Outpost Aurora,’ Malizar said, ‘was attacked by my people, at my command.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your family is dead.’

  ‘No.’ He wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t. ‘For what?’

  ‘I doubt any of you have heard, not the rumour, but the tale . . . of Erebus.’

  Ruben had not. It seemed he was not the only one. Malizar motioned for silence. ‘Old Earth mythology tells the story of Erebus. Son of Chaos, husband of Nyx, and the epitome of darkness and shadow. Now, listen carefully, because I will reveal this only once. Far past the borders of manned space there exists a planet, an uncharted world, known as Tempest-Beta. It has thus far been the best kept secret within the entire history of the Four Systems. The best kept secret bar one.

  ‘For orbiting the planet is an asteroid whose origin is not of this part of the galaxy. A ship under the influence of a commander of my Order discovered this place ten years ago, and I named it Erebus.’

  ‘So Crilshar never had it?’ Tears now stung Ruben’s eyes.

  ‘No. They did not even know about it.’

  ‘My sister did,’ Yux said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You all undervalued her astuteness,’ he said. ‘She spoke to me every day. She told me everything. She had heard the rumours, searched and probed for years, and finally learned the truth. That’s when she contacted Titan . . .’

  ‘And told me of the Crilshan Weapon X,’ Maxim said. ‘My unknown agent. It was her. I would never have imagined.’

  ‘Very clever,’ said Malizar. ‘But now she is dead. And before you speak anymore I shall tell you: Erebus is not a weapon. Not in the sense we know. For upon it we discovered life equivalent to that of ourselves. And through it I now create my army.’

  ‘Army?’ Maxim squirmed.

  ‘Yes, Ximma, army. Using the captives taken from Aurora to create a dark, unconquerable legion, whose darkness will spread across the Systems and eventually to Earth. All will obey my Order. All will submit to the Córonat: the new leader of the Iástrons. They will fear us, as they should have, always. Humanity will bow to us, listen to us, and live as we tell them to live.’

  Ruben looked to the ground. He had heard those words before. ‘A darkness is approaching. However, it is much more frightful than Crilshar alone. Something else is coming, Ruben, and Titan’s end is near.’ Callista spoke the words, her prophecy. She saw it; but too late to act. Erebus was the darkness.

  ‘There must be a reason you would explain this,’ Maxim said. ‘Such information presented to your enemies so freely cannot be without an end.’

  Malizar looked at her. ‘I simply want you to understand just what power you’re dealing with, and what it means for us all.’

  ‘We’re not alone in this galaxy,’ Ruben muttered.

  ‘No . . . we are not.’ He rose up now, as though he was finished with all of them. ‘I also reveal to you my thoughts and desires because you will never again meet a soul worth informing. I am sure my allies, the Retani Dynasty, will make room in Hellfire for such deserving traitors.’

  Frightened and cold, a tear fell down Ruben’s cheek as he turned to look at the others in the chamber. Vasily’s fists pressed into the ground as he knelt nearby, his eyes fighting back tears. He had only done what he thought was necessary to save his people. The General bore no resentment.

  Edgar Mokrikov knelt behind Malizar, clutching his head in the palms of his hands as though attempting to come to terms with what the Córonat had revealed, resigned to serve him forever. Ruben pitied him.

  Lady Maxim Pinzón, however, held her head high. ‘I am truly sorry,’ she said to him. ‘Mauldeth and I tried to find the weapon. Our efforts were futile, which is why I turned to you. I had to find it myself. I couldn’t let him find it first.’

  Malizar glare
d at her defiance. ‘So when you realised it was too late you thought you would go along with my plan and come to kill me yourself?’

  Maxim did not reply. Her faith had fallen. Hush filled the chamber.

  ‘And that is it?’ Ruben said as he stared into the true face of darkness.

  Malizar gazed back, victorious, whispered, ‘That is it. Now that your orbiting fleet is destroyed, your invading army crushed, I will leave you with the Dishan. Enjoy your last moments.’

  Ruben breathed out deeply. ‘It was always my intention: to surrender my life.’

  ‘Well now you have,’ Malizar said, and turned.

  ‘Only, I can’t let you leave either . . .’

  The cloaked man stopped, spun back harshly. ‘And how do you plan to stop me?’

  He shifted in agony. ‘I planned this long before today. And now I know my family’s not down here, there is nothing that will stop me from destroying Crilshar entirely.’

  Malizar hesitated, be it slightly and only for an instant, but it was all that was needed for his alarm to lay itself bare for all to see. ‘What?’

  ‘Your overconfidence has made you underestimate everyone around you. Me included.’

  ‘I see your desperation, General.’

  ‘I lie here, powerless. And yet, I’m still more powerful than you.’

  Malizar laughed; a long, cold, intoxicating laugh. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘You don’t need to believe me. Just know that while we have been down here, while you’ve been explaining all your cunning plans and proving just how powerful you are, my brave soldiers have been descending Crilshar’s caverns—one by one—until they completed the task that was asked of them. Until they’d prepared the explosives, ready for my command.’

  With that, both Yux and Wivartha Dishan stepped forward, panic on their pale faces. ‘What have you done?’ said Yux.

  ‘He has done nothing,’ Malizar said. ‘And now he will die. I can feel his pulse weaken. Minutes are all you have, General—’

  ‘Minutes are all I need.’

  ‘What have you done?’ Yux asked again.

  ‘This High Chamber is far beneath the surface, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ Wivartha said.

  ‘Built upon the Crilshan database?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And directly below the hub of the Crilshan Surrogate Sun.’

  The last words did not form a question. Everybody in the room gasped at once.

  ‘You haven’t!’ Yux cried. ‘It was a trap?’

  Ruben nodded. ‘Your populace living above us—above the hub—will survive, my friend. But we—’

  Malizar’s hand wrapped fiercely around his throat, fear filling his twisted features. ‘How long?’

  ‘My dear Córonat—’

  ‘Tell me how long!’

  Ruben leaned toward his beaten foe. ‘This is for my girls.’ He raised both arms with one final labour of strength, pushed the switch on his wrist, activating the blast.

  Malizar twisted to run, but at once the walls and the ground and their very bodies shook as the many levels which made up the Surrogate Sun fell upon themselves, crashing towards them with an unimaginable furore. A thunderous roar filled their ears, and Ruben wept. His last thoughts were with Anna and Gílana, and, as he slipped away, he prayed that there was someone—anyone, anybody at all—out there to watch over them . . .

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

  HAD IT BEEN fear which had carried Antal Justus to this dark moment, possible in millions and yet sadly inevitable, conceivable only in dreams and in nightmares, then he did not know it. Knelt upon the ground, the anger flooding through his veins fuelled a fury which caused him to cry aloud; and he screamed in agony for the loss he had endured once more. And the beasts surrounding him, which had never felt a resonance like the rage of a fearless man, for an instant backed away, into the shadows, not knowing who or what in Erebus this mighty man was.

  He’d not been strong enough. From the moment he’d realised they had to come down here, he knew they wouldn’t make it out alive. But every ounce of his being wanted to see his friends again, to sit at the helm of the Flux and feel the familiar surge of emotion and power fill his body. Glimpsing the glaring image of Anna’s face disappear as she fell to her death, however, he realised he no longer wanted to leave. He’d held her terrified gaze as she slipped away into the pure white light and Erebus’ unending darkness. Much like—

  ‘Justus!’ Ferranti yelled. ‘There’s nothing we can do now! They’re coming! COME ON!’ Ferranti broke into a run towards one of the tunnels leading out of the central chamber, unaware that something lay in his path.

  Justus once again hesitated, and stood on the brink of the precipice, at the edge of everything. There was no way Anna could have survived the fall, but somehow he found a small glimmer of hope within that she was down there, helpless but alive. The sphere of firelight in the heart of the chamber continued to burn and surge a malevolent white; he couldn’t pull himself away from it. Then the hissing resonated throughout the chamber much louder than before, and something took hold of him from behind. He twisted to see Ferranti’s tearful face through his life-suit’s visor, burning brightly like the flames behind.

  ‘She might yet be alive,’ Justus pleaded. ‘We . . . We can still save her.’

  ‘Yes, we can,’ Ferranti said. ‘But only if we get out of here now.’

  ‘Okay, but where?’

  Ferranti looked to the ground and, kneeling down, picked up Anna’s swiss-knife. And as the white flame licked the air around them, it struck the knife and the torch within it suddenly shone fiercer than any battery could allow; it illuminated the far cave wall and a single tunnel leading out. And so, with a lingering yet rekindled hope, they bolted into the unknown, a small torch and a single weapon between them, the triumphant bellows of the beasts tearing after.

  * * *

  They scurried through impossible tunnels, helping each other over large jutting black rocks and inside small passageways requiring them to crawl tightly through.

  Clawing hands forever reached after them.

  ‘We have to go down,’ Justus said, tearing ahead. ‘As far down as we can. I’m not leaving without her!’

  ‘Nor am I,’ said Ferranti as he rushed to keep up. ‘Her uncle trusted me; I gave him my word, and now I’ve failed him.’

  ‘It was I who brought you here,’ he said. ‘If you’re looking for someone to blame, lay it with me.’

  ‘It sounds like you’ve already done that.’

  ‘It’s all been down to me. I’ve run constantly. Well I’m not leaving Anna down there!’

  ‘We won’t. This way!’ Ferranti aimed the torchlight ahead.

  They descended a steep bank, smooth at several points, which appeared as though they could have been carved from the otherwise sharp and terrible rock face. Upon realising that they had reached a winding crossroads, the two halted. Ferranti moved the torch right. Justus aimed his coil to the left. Both breathed deeply.

  ‘Which way?’ Ferranti asked.

  ‘What does it matter?’

  ‘We live or we die.’

  ‘Fair enough. Left.’

  ‘The crimson path. Lead the way.’

  Justus moved swiftly through, aware that one of those things could emerge around a corner at any moment.

  ‘How is it you even ended up here?’ Ferranti asked after some minutes of non-stop sprinting.

  ‘Let’s not talk,’ Justus replied.

  ‘I heard what Anna said to you up there, before the beast came. You haven’t met before, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you dreamt of her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And she dreamt of you.’

  Justus stopped. ‘So she says.’ He turned to face him. ‘For the past year I’ve dreamt of that orb, that fire, that black flame up there. In some way I think it drove me to leave everything behind. I made myself believe I was leaving for the good
of my friends. But I was running away . . . running here. Just like when I left Earth.’

  He held his breath, unable to believe he’d actually said the words. For a long time he’d never mentioned his old home, and his sudden confession had taken him by surprise.

  Ferranti, however, said nothing of it and urged him forwards; and they made a start once again. ‘You have a choice now, Justus.’

  ‘I abandoned my friends,’ he said. ‘I can’t go back. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ve become what I have.’

  ‘Running away wasn’t the reason. Losing faith in yourself is what caused you to make the wrong choices.’

  Justus kept moving. He did not answer.

  Red and white light continued to guide them. They helped each other over a range of ridges, large and overhanging; and with each turn—corner, climb, and crevice—they stumbled lower. Eventually they emerged within another deep chamber. Despite the searing heat within the suits, shivers trickled down Justus’ spine. He gulped and raised his coil, illuminating the many bodies now lay twisted and discarded in their way. Twenty . . . thirty . . . forty bodies spread before them. All were human, though most lacked any sort of space gear. The two captains moved cautiously through.

  ‘Is Anna here? Can you see her?’ Ferranti asked.

  ‘No.’ Justus breathed deeply inside his scorching helmet. ‘She’s not here. Those that had them have all been stripped of their helmets. Everyone suffocated. Can you see her? Ferranti?’

  Ferranti had stopped moving. Justus backed up towards him and looked to where the captain had aimed his torchlight. Justus swore.

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ Ferranti said.

  ‘Are those what I think they are?’

  ‘Yep.’

  He leaned in closer and reached out to touch the black cave wall. Etched into the rock, as large as a man, were gaunt shapes . . . figures of beasts. He trained the light of the coil up high and followed the progression of frightening outlines: depictions of the beasts of the Labyrinth in biting horror among the darkness of the maze.

  ‘If only Ketrass were here,’ he said. ‘Cave drawings—ha!’

  ‘Just wait. There’s more.’