The magitech chronicles.., p.118
The Magitech Chronicles- Complete Series Box Set, page 118
part #1 of The Magitech Chronicles Series
“Be careful, Nara.” Kezia’s tone was…well, if not friendly, it was better than it had been.
Nara turned and guided her armor toward the light. She waited for the last few Marines to enter, and then plunged into the light just as she’d done with Yorrak’s crew not so very long ago.
She felt a sense of the entire universe shifting one hundred and eighty degrees, and then something icy, like a pool of water, washed over her. When it passed, her perspective was different. She was elsewhere, and elsewhen, she sensed.
She existed in countless places at once and her perceptions expanded to encompass galaxies. She saw in spectrums and possibilities that her mortal self could not comprehend or even perceive. She was a god, and not just any god, but an elder god who’d observed the passing of millions of years.
She was the infinity known as Xal.
Xal’s demonic claws could pry apart a continent and his wings could cast shade that would deprive an entire planet of light. Whatever species he’d arisen from bore little resemblance to humans beyond having four limbs and two eyes. But, at the very least, she knew that he had begun as a mortal, an eternity ago.
The god’s voice rumbled through space, echoing through the mind of its intended target. “What have you summoned me to see, sorcerer? Speak, Talifax.”
Panic flooded Nara’s mind at the mention of Talifax, but there was nowhere to run.
Xal’s colossal head turned, and his gaze fell on Talifax’s dark armor, a tiny fly speck next to the planet-sized god. She mastered her terror. “Nothing here can hurt me. They can’t even see me. This is just a memory.”
“They cannot,” agreed Malila’s cultured voice. The demonic Guardian shimmered into existence next to Nara, her ghostly form translucent against the backdrop of the void. “We are witnessing a moment in the distant past, over a hundred millennia ago. I find it interesting that Xal chooses this memory to show you. The memory is always connected to the viewer, somehow. To your past, or your future.”
Darkness surrounded them in all directions, broken by an endless sea of multicolored stars. It was one of the most beautiful tapestries Nara had ever seen, doubly so because she could perceive and understand each bandwidth of that light. Her sight, if it could be called that, extended to the edge of the known universe. She could see nearly everywhere, all at once, and she loved it.
Right now she—or Xal, she reminded herself—was focused on an area of the night sky that was nearly devoid of light. It was curiously different than every other area she’d seen. Instead of endless interwoven lights there were a few weak flickers here and there, broken up by vast stretches of darkness.
“Thank you for blessing me with your presence, Great Xal.” Talifax delivered a standing bow with both hands clasped before him. “My mistress will arrive in a moment. I beg your indulgence. Please, only a moment.”
“Do not grovel, mortal.” Xal did not bother to mask his disgust for Talifax, and Nara wished she could somehow warn the god not to underestimate him.
Space began to shift and fold, and a second colossal god appeared. This one was unfamiliar. A midnight-scaled dragon swam through the void, bits of light glinting off her scales. Her eyes were pools of deep void magic, so dark they, too, were nearly black. She blended perfectly against the stars, especially the strange area that was so curiously devoid of them.
Nara felt Xal’s entire body tense as the god prepared for a combat he hoped would not come. He readied magics she couldn’t begin to comprehend, but did not loose them. His horned head turned toward the Wyrm-goddess. “Why has your puppet summoned me, Nefarius? My time is not yours to command, and only my curiosity prevents me from leaving this place.”
The Wyrm swam closer, and her leathered wings flared out behind her even as the light in her eyes intensified. “I have called you here because both of us are in danger, and I will begin by answering the question you did not ask. Why did I not summon the rest of the pantheon? Why only you?”
The dragon extended a clawed hand toward the empty region of space. “That is why I have called you here. For many millennia this region has quietly grown, and none of us have intervened.”
Xal spun out billions of possibilities as he studied the strangely empty region. Nothing concerning appeared in any of them, though the void would grow over time. He turned back to Nefarius. Was this a trick? To what end? He’d never trusted Nefarius, despite the rest of the pantheon blindly doing so. Only Krox shared his fears about the Wyrm.
“Why would we intervene?” Xal was genuinely mystified by her motives. Nefarius was known to be the craftiest goddess in the pantheon, but she enjoyed neither jokes nor pranks. “This appears to be a natural phenomenon. Galaxies spin through space, and what’s happened here is a haphazard pattern. Nothing more.”
“Respectfully, Great Xal,” Talifax interjected. “I do not believe that to be the case. This phenomenon is meant to look natural, but it is anything but.”
Sudden realization dawned in Nara. She recognized that void. It had been categorized, and it was labeled on the galactic map that had always hung on Eros’s wall back at the library. It was called ‘Bootes Void’. She had no idea who Bootes was, probably some ancient Terran scholar.
The region had always fascinated her, because it was many millions of light years across, and contained almost no stars. The few galaxies that survived there were isolated, so much so that their night skies were probably filled with nothing but black. To them it would be the same as living in the Umbral Depths.
Xal’s perceptions extended once more, and Nara was dragged along.
The god focused on Bootes Void, scanning it until he reached the very center. There he encountered something that she sensed the god had never dealt with. An area he was unable to perceive. A dark speck near the center of that galaxy drank in any light or magic that touched it.
“A tear in our plane?” Xal rumbled, turning back to the tiny mortal sorcerer.
Talifax’s bulky form gave another bow. “Precisely, Great Xal. Cleverly hidden, and so slow that it will take billions of years to swallow this plane. A takeover so insidious that even the pantheon might have been blind to it if not for my discovery.”
Xal sensed the pride in the sorcerer, a failing that was not limited to their kind. He eyed Nefarius. “Why tell only me? Why not the entire pantheon?”
Nefarius folded her wings against her body, and pulled her clawed feet to her chest. It was the most vulnerable Xal ever seen her, but Nara was skeptical. The Wyrm’s voice trembled when she spoke. “Of all the pantheon, you and I are the only gods whose magic is primarily void. Our magic is, in a way, linked to the Umbral Depths and they all know it. The ancient prohibitions prevent the denizens from working such magics. They are trapped. That means that this phenomenon must have been created by a god, or goddess, on our plane. Someone has betrayed us, Xal, and we will be blamed.”
Xal spun out possibilities, and Nara watched as those possibilities led to his own distant death. An entire pantheon of gods—a few familiar but most completely new to her—swarmed over and killed the mighty titan. It happened so quickly she couldn’t even perceive details.
“Yes,” Xal said suddenly, returning to the present. “I begin to see. They will blame us for this. They already mistrust us enough as it is, simply because our magic is darker than theirs. I will keep this secret for now, and you and I will study it. When we know enough we will bring our findings to the pantheon, but only when we have a way to repair the tear.”
“Of course.” Nefarius bowed her draconic head. “Whatever you think is best, Great Xal.”
32
Husk of Xal
Aran experienced a sudden weightlessness. He’d appeared in a familiar system, the same one where he’d witnessed Xal’s death during his Catalyzation all the way back at beginning of this whole crazy adventure.
Xal’s titanic corpse floated in the void, immense and somehow terrifying even in death. A host of other gods hovered around what must be the largest demon in the sector, feeding like piranha. He recognized the horrible, blazing star that must be Krox, though its surface swirled with far more colors than had been used at Ternus, and unless Aran was mistaken, Krox was far larger here than he’d been when they’d faced him.
Tendrils extended from Krox, ripping into Xal’s body directly over the heart. The now familiar pulses of magic flowed up those tendrils, draining into Krox. Nor was he the only one feeding.
Countless Wyrms gnawed at the corpse, and Aran realized he recognized one of them. Drakkon, one of the smallest dragons present, was eagerly feasting on void-infused entrails.
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” Malila’s translucent form appeared a meter away, her arms folded and her wings limp as she watched Xal’s memory play out.
Aran studied her out of the corner of his eye, still uncertain how to react or talk to a being of this age. He was left with the impression that she could snuff him out like a candle, and might if he said the wrong thing.
“Terrifying,” Aran admitted, turning his attention back to the awful feast. Much of Xal’s body had been eaten away, exposing large sections of bone and sinew. His head was still attached, for the moment anyway. “It definitely paints the godswar in a new light. We talk a lot about Shaya being holy, and the last dragonflight thinks that Virkonna is some sort of beacon of righteousness.”
Aran shuddered. A sky-blue Wyrm, and a snowy-white Wyrm were feasting on Xal’s heart, right beside Krox. He guessed he was looking at Virkonna and Inura. “She doesn’t look very noble to me.”
“Why do you suppose Xal chose this memory to show you?” Malila drifted a little closer, her dark gaze searching.
Why indeed? What was Xal trying to show him? Aran didn’t answer immediately. He watched the memory play out. Time accelerated, and each god and Wyrm moved with comedic quickness. They swarmed over the corpse, and as years passed it shrank in size. The head vanished, presumably stolen by Malila, though time spun by so quickly that he couldn’t be sure.
Time finally slowed, and all that was left of Xal was a desiccated husk. A few bones connected by lingering sinew—headless and lacking one arm. Aran glanced at Malila. “Are we observing the present now?”
“Approximately.” Malila gave a very human shrug, completely at odds with the rest of her appearance. “The Husk of Xal still floats at the site of his death, and still possesses enough magic to sate those who seek it out. I was only able to save the Skull.”
What would Xal gain out of showing him this? The memory seemed to have completed, or at least it was no longer advancing.
“You said you can see through my eyes, right?” The thought of it made him queasy. He was already being manipulated by too many divine beings, and he didn’t like the idea that this chick was watching him on the toilet.
“I can.” She nodded.
“Can you see through the eyes of everyone who’s taken some of Xal’s magic?” Aran turned his attention back to the body.
Malila was silent for a long while. Finally she raised a hand to brush dark hair from her face. “Theoretically, yes.”
“Every god in the sector looks like they took a piece of Xal,” Aran pointed out. “If that’s the case, then you should be able to see what all of them are doing, including Krox. Maybe that’s what Xal is trying to show us.”
“It doesn’t work that way.” Malila shot him an irritated glance. “Xal doesn’t know or understand that I am here. This is crafted for you, specifically.”
The memory finally changed. Space dissolved into darkness, and he was suddenly elsewhere. This new system was much, much more familiar. He was at the Skull of Xal’s present location, the barren system on the far side of the sector.
His perspective moved until he was staring into the glowing eye sockets of a dead god. There was no sentience there. No awareness, or at least nothing he could detect.
Both purple orbs flared, and twin beams of pure void magic lanced outward. They crossed the gulf of space incredibly swiftly, and yet it somehow also took an eternity to reach him.
Aran’s senses exploded, and he could suddenly perceive entirely new spectrums and dimensions. He could smell starlight, and hear the passage of quanta and the lingering echo of the background radiation that had birthed the universe.
Part of him had expected something like this, and he relaxed into it. Perceiving as a god perceived had been heady the last time he’d been here, and if not for Narlifex he’d have drawn too much magic and died. He wrapped his hand around the sword’s hilt, and was reassured when he felt Narlifex’s presence.
Our Maker. Narlifex’s voice was tinged with awe.
“Yeah, I guess he is,” Aran replied with the same awe.
The magic should have been overwhelming, and yet it wasn’t. He had no trouble adjusting to the dizzying array of new senses, and this time there was no desire to plunge into those orbs and attempt to gain more power. He was in complete control.
He turned to Malila, who studied him with those unreadable violet eyes. “Why isn’t it affecting me like last time? And what is he doing to me? It doesn’t feel at all the same.”
“He is remaking you.” Malila’s voice sounded both impressed and a little frightened. She drifted closer, and did a complete circuit around him as she studied the magical transformation. “You’re being imbued with void magic, but not like before. Before you were given raw essence, to shape as you will. This is a direct transference. He is crafting a specific magic ability, and imparting it to you. Something this complex could only have been formulated while Xal still lived. This is a part of his contingency. It must be. This is the realization of my vision, all those millennia ago.”
Anxiety flitted across the corners of his mind. Neith had revealed that his entire existence had been shaped specifically to prepare him for some grand role in their endless war. Xal apparently had a similar plan, and there was nothing to say those plans intersected. What if they both wanted him to do different things? Which god could he trust?
Aran’s back arched, and electric pain flooded every neuron. More and more void magic poured from the Skull into his chest, then rippled down into Narlifex. It played across its armor, darkening the metal, and making it both sleeker and a little larger.
Narlifex, stronger. The blade pulsed. Mind… clearer. Smarter.
The process stopped as suddenly as it began. Aran’s breaths came in great heaving gasps, and cold sweat coated his entire body. He was still floating in space not far from the Skull of Xal, though, so it couldn’t all be over yet.
He turned to ask Malila, but the words died unspoken. A dark shining mote of void danced in Malila’s chest, and Aran could see it. He could feel it. He could, if he wanted to, even take it. All he had to do was extend a hand and claim the magic.
Vessel. The Skull’s jaw opened as if speaking, and Xal’s eyes flared. You are my hound, born to harry my treacherous enemies. Track them to the edges of the void itself, or even into the darkness underlying all realities. Flay them, and devour their strength. Consume their magic, thus growing in strength.
Aran realized that if he looked in any given direction he could feel faint pulses of violet light, in every corner of the cosmos. They pulled like the mote in Malila’s chest, and Aran could only guess that each must belong to someone who’d eaten a piece of Xal’s magic. There were thousands. More, maybe.
“He has elevated you, hasn’t he?” Malila demanded. The quaver had grown stronger.
“I don’t know,” Aran admitted. “But I suspect it’s something similar to what he gave you. I can feel you, and I can feel them. All of them.” Aran gestured expansively at the night sky around him. “And he called me a hound.”
“He’s raised another.” Malila licked very human lips, then flared very inhuman wings. Her hair floated around her like a sea of tiny snakes. “I have long wondered what my role in this epoch of the godswar is to be. I think you may have just answered that question. Leave here knowing you have made an ally. I cannot aid you against Krox, but it seems you no longer need my aid. Xal has given you something far greater than I could offer.”
Malila bowed at the waist, and then her spectral form vanished.
Aran suddenly found himself falling, his body being drawn into Xal’s titanic mouth. He plunged toward the overwhelming violet glow, passing between teeth that could have snapped apart the Spellship, and fell headlong into the magic.
33
Void Mages
Aran stumbled from the light, back into reality, and collapsed to his knees. His limbs refused to respond, and if not for the spellarmor he’d have toppled to the pallid bone. He drifted there, unable to control himself, magic crackling through his body, the aftershocks of whatever Xal had done to him.
After several moments the disorientation faded, and as it did he became aware of his surroundings. His armor insulated him from the cold, but frost crystals glistened all over the bony ridges leading back to the ocular cavity. He’d come out right where he’d entered, apparently.
An army of demons stood in neat, even ranks, observing his progress. They covered the plateau, every meter of it, and every last one carried a weapon and wore dark armor. The demons raised both arms, then brought them down as they chanted a single word. “XAL!”
It echoed through the Skull, washing over Aran in a wave of sound, and he realized that the gesture—cheering, maybe—was directed at him. He wasn’t certain having demons be pro team Aran was really the way he wanted to go, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The demons completed the odd ritual twice more, chanting the name of their fallen deity. Aran could only stand there and watch. The ranks of demons turned as one, and began marching away into the shadowed recesses that led down into the nasal cavity.
