The magitech chronicles.., p.178
The Magitech Chronicles- Complete Series Box Set, page 178
part #1 of The Magitech Chronicles Series
Frit blazed an angry orange-white, then shot toward the dragon. Her body punched through the tail, and the end began to glow a dull angry orange. The glow continued to intensify, though there was no sign of Frit. Until the end of the tail exploded, sending the jagged barb at the end spinning away off into space.
Aran slashed again, and again. He kept Nefarius on the defensive, which allowed his allies to whittle her down. She was losing now, and she knew it.
Now it really was time to end this. In the distance he spied Yanthara’s moon. He felt a little bad, but better the moon than the planet.
Aran summoned as much of Xal’s void as he could pull, which was far, far more than he was expecting. He centered the gravity on Nefarius’s foot, which still clutched the mighty spear.
That foot tore loose with a mighty pop, and the spear flew into Xal’s grasp. Aran took it up in Xal’s newly regrown hand, and charged with both Worldender and Narlifex.
Nefarius desperately parried the sword with a wing, but that left her open. Aran hopped backwards, and hurled the spear. It caught Nefarius full in the chest and carried her into Yanthara’s moon, shattering both dragon and planet in the process.
The part of Nefarius’s chest that was touched by the spear ceased to exist, but her limbs, and her wings, were flung off in all directions, shattered by the force of the explosion.
“No, I will not poison our sector,” Aran roared. He became Xal fully, and focused on Xal’s immense reserves of void. He used it to gather the fragments, then pulled them into a growing singularity.
Aran collected every last remaining bit of Nefarius he could find, and sucked it all into the black hole. Only when the last scrap had disappeared did he release the singularity. He extended Xal’s free hand, and Worldender flew back into it.
They won. Somehow they’d won.
“This isn’t victory,” Shinura said. Or Inura maybe. Aran had no idea which this was, as the white-haired Wyrms looked identical. He thought he’d seen the god die, but the way Shinura spoke sounded a lot more haughty than the shade he’d first met. “If even a single scrap of Nefarius survived that, then she will be back.”
“Besides,” Nara pointed out, her eyes going hard. “We still haven’t dealt with Talifax, and it isn’t over as long as that bastard is still out there.”
“Do as you will,” Shinura said. “My part is done, and I plan to get far from this sector.”
And then he was gone. For good, Aran imagined.
61
Planned for Everything
Talifax’s laughter echoed throughout the mausoleum as he stared down at the pool, which showed Nefarius’s draconic body devastating Yanthara’s moon. Several tons of tainted material escaped Xal’s purge. Bits of black ship, and worse, would eventually land on some unsuspecting world.
That would take millennia, of course, but those were merely seeds. The true goal had been the removal of the greater pantheon, which had taken Talifax over a hundred thousand years to achieve.
There would be neither reward nor thanks, but such things were trivial. Talifax had spent millennia contemplating the whispers of those who lurked beneath, and understood what they were seeking.
Creation was flawed. You could keep a flawed system running, for a while at least. But eventually you needed to build a better system. Before that system could be built, the old would need to be removed. Fortunately, there was nothing in this reality worth saving, himself included.
He passed a thick palm over the pool and the dark liquid went still. Talifax rose from his knees, and stretched. Such a simple physical luxury, one that he treasured. He walked up the broad stairs, and out of the viewing chamber, into the fortress proper.
A black fortress on a black world two dozen sectors away from the war he had so carefully orchestrated. His sanctuary, and one of the few monuments to Those Who Came Before. He stared at the ruined world, visible only because of the constellations of tombs in the sky, each glowing with a sickly green light.
Talifax raised a deft hand and sketched a quick trio of void sigils. Hard casting was another luxury, like stretching. One didn’t precisely need either, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be indulged now and then.
The Fissure cracked open, exposing darkness beyond. Something writhed there, imperceptible without more light. Eyes cultured above those tentacles, but it was impossible to count them in the dark.
Talifax dropped to his knees and genuflected. “All is as you have instructed, master.”
No, a voice thrummed in his mind. It is not. You were instructed to remove the pantheon.
“And I have done so. Nefarius was the last,” he protested, though he didn’t look up. His masters could be…touchy. “There is—”
You fool. You have failed, the voice thundered.
The Fissure cracked shut of its own accord.
Talifax climbed to his feet, an unfamiliar emotion bubbling up within. Panic. It wasn’t fear, or even terror. Those were reactions of the mind and could be controlled with discipline. Panic was the absolute lack of options.
What did his masters mean? How had he failed?
“You know,” a very smug voice came from behind him, “this is not at all how I’d choose to decorate my world, but I do have to admit it fits the tone of what’s about to happen to you. Grim.”
A human, small compared to Talifax, stood before him. That human had the dusky-dark skin of a demon-blooded, and wore an all too familiar sword belted to his hip. He had no spellarmor, but Talifax could feel the violence in the man. No, the god. Aran didn’t need spellarmor, his walk said, as he ambled toward Talifax.
“How did you find me?” Talifax cocked his head as he folded his arms. His panic was gone, at least. This was a problem he could solve. Nor did he fear Aran, as he could translocate away before the god could do anything.
And, since Aran had already translocated, he would not be able to follow. Talifax had run from gods before, and would again, if needed. This was manageable.
“Turns out,” Aran began as he eased the blade from its sheath; power wafted from the dark blade, drawing Talifax’s eye, “that Neith was willing to take an apprentice.”
Talifax blinked a few times. “You can say her name. You’ve overpowered the geas.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not a mindwiped recruit anymore, Talifax.” The tip of his adversary’s dark blade scraped along the stone as he approached. “We fought your best, and beat them, and unless I’m missing something…there’s no way you can take me in a straight fight.”
“You’re right about that.” Talifax smiled beneath his helmet. “But I don’t need to fight. Good day, Captain.”
He translocated to a small shipping facility he’d acquired on one of Colony 3’s moons, on a deserted part of the planet. It had been used by the booming mining industry, but was utterly worthless once the ore played out.
That made it perfect. Isolated, but in a system teaming with life, which helped to hide magical signatures like his. It, combined with many other magical safeguards, would make predicting his movements all but impossible.
He’d appeared inside the facility’s lowest level, which lay beneath three kilometers of the planet’s dense iron crust, another layer of protection.
The best protection, though, was getting away from this place as quickly as possible. He’d need about fifteen minutes before he could translocate again, which would mean that…
A tiny red dot appeared on his breastplate, right over his upper left heart. Talifax pulled open a void pocket and his hand settled around the dragonbone wand’s ivory haft. His armor would protect him from the first spell, but he needed to locate his assailant, and respond with something lethal.
The muzzle of a rifle flared black, and a ball of pulsating purple streaked toward Talifax. It stopped just short of his armor, and then pulled itself into a tiny marble. Enormous gravity washed over Talifax, and to his horror he realized his armor couldn’t protect him.
The titanic gravitational forces could only be generated by one thing, and that thing was one of the few eventualities he’d not prepared for.
“That’s right,” came a vaguely familiar voice. Feminine. Human. “It’s over, Talifax.”
Nara sauntered into the light, her long dark hair bound in a tight braid down the back of her form-fitting body armor. None of that commanded his attention, however. The rifle she held did.
“By the nameless ones,” he whispered, blinking at it, “you’ve recovered Shakti. How did I not foresee this?”
She was one of only a handful of weapons that could kill him, and the only one anywhere near this sector and timeline.
Talifax thought he’d planned for everything. He’d predicted that assailants might follow him here, and that he might be ambushed without being able to translocate. He still had teleports, and even if his enemy countered those, his armor should have stopped any attack.
He’d prepared for very nearly anything. Very nearly.
One could not stop a growing singularity with any magical object or spell. The best one could hope for was slowing it, or if you were a titan, perhaps, escaping it. Talifax gritted his flat teeth and focused on his reserves of void. They were truly vast, and he was able to constrain the singularity’s growth. Momentarily at least.
“How?” he managed. His armor grew cold, and a thick layer of frost accumulated, then that frost was ripped into the singularity.
“Frit? Come take a bow,” Nara called, and gestured theatrically as the Ifrit sauntered into view.
The Ifrit wore a truly predatory smile as she approached, though she was careful to stop well away from the singularity’s threshold. Her flaming hair danced around her, framing a wicked grin.
“You think you’re so clever, and that we’re so dumb.” Frit’s eyes narrowed. “We knew that no matter what happened you’d try to run. So my role in the final battle was to figure out where you would run to, and what you would do.”
She produced a jagged shard of glass, one that glowed with immense, ancient power. “I used this, and the temporal matrix, and I asked Nara a whole bunch of ‘what if’ questions. What if Talifax betrays Nefarius? What if Talifax translocates away? What happens if you shoot him the chest with say, a black hole?”
The singularity crept out another millimeter, and its gravity increased to match. Talifax’s armor gave an audible groan.
“No,” he snarled, ripping his helmet off to expose his trunk and his tusks. He would die with his face exposed. Talifax hurled his helmet toward the ground, but of course the singularity caught it and sucked it in. “I don’t believe it. There is no way that this was orchestrated by mortals. I was not bested by mortals!”
Nara’s eyes flared a deep violet, and the penetrating voice that issued from her mouth was not her own. “You are partially right, little sorcerer. The mortals have done well, and have become the pantheon I need them to be, one unassailable from without. But it was my hand that guided them.”
Talifax had a million questions, but only one came. “Xal?”
“Indeed.” The vessel, Nara, gave something approaching a smile. Ancient magic glittered in her eyes. “I have distributed my consciousness among all my followers. Ironically, it was you who gave the idea to Nefarius, who in turn shared it with me. Instead of using the blood to enslave…I became the blood. I manifest in whomever I choose, wherever my magic is found. I drew the trio of vessels to the light. I forged them into weapons all in service of this day. All so that I could look you in the eye, sorcerer, and tell your masters, through you, that they have lost. They sought to eradicate the pantheon in our sector, to weaken us for their inevitable invasion. Instead I have forged a powerful, diverse pantheon. Demons, humans, Ifrit, Wyrms, Shayans, Inurans…all have a reason to work together now. I have united them.”
The singularity crept closer, and Talifax’s breastplate buckled. A heart exploded, and he clutched his chest, though the other three were compensating.
“I know you can hear me,” Xal continued, through his vessel. “You lurk in darkness, always seeking to spread it. To snuff the stars themselves until everything outside the Great Cycle is darkness. And I am here to tell you that we will not allow it. I will go to other sectors, and I will prepare them too. I will unite this galaxy, and we will stand against you.”
Talifax opened his mouth to speak again, but the singularity advanced, and his body, which had survived rigors that many gods could not, was suddenly and violently ripped into its component atoms.
62
Choices
Crewes stared up at the Talon’s scry-screen as the kid trudged his way up the wide redwood limb and into his new life. For the first time since Nefarius had killed Serala, something eased in him. It was time to start the healing, for those that could be healed.
Not all of them could. He sure couldn’t. He was like a wounded animal, disemboweled, and trying to cling to life somehow. There just wasn’t fixing the kind of wounds he’d taken. Crewes hadn’t realized just how much she’d meant to him until she was gone.
That wasn’t all of it though. He’d spent several hours watching footage of Yanthara after the battle. So many casualties. Thankfully, Voria had used her magic to stabilize the weather, and the planet was already recovering. It would take much longer for the survivors.
“Where will we go now, sir?” Rhea asked from the neighboring matrix. “And, more importantly, how will we get there?”
Crewes turned from the screen, and blinked at the Outrider. He wasn’t used to being the one who answered questions, and he already hated it. Was he really going to have to explain every little thing he did? Guess maybe so. At least he’d had good examples to draw from.
“Virkon.” Crewes rested his flaming hands against the Talon’s command couch, and was thankful that the ship seemed impervious to his new body.
So was Neeko, who’d curled up and was sleeping directly underneath him, no doubt.
Rhea raised a raven eyebrow. “You’re going to try to recruit?”
“You don’t approve?” Crewes asked, already self conscious. He thought it was a pretty good plan.
“I do.” Rhea paused thoughtfully, cocking her head and staring at a point over Crewes’s head for a moment. Then she looked down at him again. “I’m trying to be diplomatic. If we’re going to recruit, why wouldn’t you start with Bord? He’s a fine soldier and a gifted mage. We need him to open Fissures.”
“Nah.” Crewes patted the stabilizing ring affectionately. “See, it occurred to me. The Talon opened a Fissure all on his own, once. I bet that he’s absorbed enough magic that the ship can handle it. That about right, ship?”
The scry-screen shifted to show the planet’s umbral shadow, and a wide purple crack veined across the sky.
“It would appear you were right, sir.” Rhea gave him a hard stare, not mean, but a firm no BS kind of look. “That still doesn’t answer the question.”
“Kid’s seen enough war,” Crewes supplied easily. He’d given this a lot of thought, and was comfortable with his choice. “I could have asked him to stay, and he’d have stayed. But he ain’t like us. He’s not a lifer. He’s still got a chance to be normal, and maybe claw his way back from the mountain of shit life dumped right on top of him. So I want to give him that shot. If I’m wrong, and the kid ever needs a home, well, he’s got one.”
Rhea looked away suddenly, but Crewes caught a faint smile. “I see. Excellent choice, Captain.”
Crewes leaned back in his couch. “You keep that good mood close, because I have one more call to make.”
Rhea stiffened. “My father.”
“We can’t exactly fly to Virkon without checking in with him.” Crewes tapped a fire sigil, then another.
The screen shifted, and a moment later the missive was accepted. Kheross’s handsome features appeared, an irritated expression marring them slightly. “What do you want, human? Now that Aran has accepted his new role, there is no longer any reason for us to be in contact.”
Crewes shifted uncomfortably. He was really bad at this stuff. “I called to offer you a job. I’m rebuilding the Outriders, and we need the best. You’re the best.” He left off the obligatory ‘scaly’, as that wasn’t going to score him any points.
Normally he wouldn’t care, but Serala would have cared. She’d have disapproved, and he couldn’t really handle that right now, even knowing she was gone.
Kheross leaned his head back and brushed a lock of white hair from his shoulder. “And how about you, daughter? You’re fine with me being aboard the vessel? Not that I’ve agreed.”
“You’ve been cleansed.” Rhea’s posture, normally ramrod straight, slumped. “I’m sorry, father, for the way I treated you. You’re alive and healed. You’re welcome here. We’d benefit from your expertise and experience.”
“You’ve no idea how it warms me to hear that.” Kheross’s hostility melted, and he beamed a fanged smile at his daughter. “I wish I could join you. Truly. But I have accepted a new role on Virkon. The few remaining Wyrms have agreed to serve as advisors, while the Outriders are taking their place as the rulers of Virkon. We will guide them, but no longer will we rule them.”
“Captain’s gonna love that.” Crewes found himself smiling again. Serala liked cooperation, and so did the major.
“I would like to formally invite you to our world,” Kheross offered. He gave Crewes a respectful nod, and you’d have thought he was pulling teeth. “You are welcome to recruit, and I expect you will find exactly what you’re looking for. The question is…what then?”
“Man, I don’t even know what day it is, scaly.” Crewes waved dismissively at Kheross. “What makes you think I’ve got a plan?”
Kheross leaned his head back and laughed. It wasn’t long before Crewes joined in.
