Necrotech Page 18

  If not for another being in the room Inura might have investigated further. Voria didn’t sit alone. Her right hand wrapped firmly around the haft of a golden staff Inura had labored upon for decades. Ikadra, the first key.

  The gleaming sunsteel shone, and the sapphire near the tip pulsed as the weapon whispered no doubt sage counsel to its owner.

  “You have invited me and I have come,” Inura intoned, in a manner befitting gods. “I submit myself to the judgement of your pantheon, and if you are willing, seek to join your covenant.”

  He considered making a case for his petition, but sensed it might be premature, so he left it there. Let them decide where to take the conversation. There was certainly a great deal to discuss.

  “Dad!” Ikadra’s sapphire pulsed as the staff thrummed with joy. “You’re alive. Oh, my god, you’re alive. You must owe so much back child support. I don’t think there’s a statute of limitations for immortals, and you sired a looooooot of kids…not just me. Oh…I get it. That’s why you faked your death. To dodge alimony and child support and what not. I think you kind of blew it by coming to the Confederacy, bud.”

  Inura scarcely knew how to respond to a normal god, but this was…he ignored the key, which had clearly been warped by one or more previous owners. Shaya, if he were to guess. Entrusting her with the staff had been the right move, but the cost….

  “Welcome, Inura.” Voria rose from her seat, and performed a Confederate salute. “I understand you have a case to present about recent events in the Kemet system. Is it true that an entire trade moon has been wiped out?”

  “You’re a goddess now.” Inura rolled his eyes, unable to stifle the irritation. This woman had vexed him at every turn, despite owing much of her power directly to him. “The answer to that is a glimpse of divinity away.”

  “I see.” Voria’s mouth firmed into a tight, unforgiving line. “Inura, may I be candid with you today?”

  Inura sensed he’d overstepped his bounds, but stiffened and refused to bow to the storm about to break over him. “Of course. If I am to petition for membership, then some very…harsh questions are likely to be asked.”

  “Membership?” A blond man Inura didn’t recognize raised an eyebrow. His drawl put him from Ternus. “Name’s Davidson. As I understand it we’re not a club, and we ain’t a superhero team. Each of us represents the government of a world or nation who signed a very specific treaty. Which world do you represent, Inura? What exactly are you the god of? ‘Cause I don’t see you anywhere on the Confederate charter.”

  The man possessed a bit of water magic, but was otherwise a mortal, with a paltry handful of decades. Inura found it disturbing that he even had a place at this table. The mistake was his, though. He’d assumed their laws would function as other pantheons had, but clearly they’d made their own.

  “Forgive me.” Inura performed an elegant bow, made easier by the fact that he gave it to a man who looked so similar to his mentor, Xal. “Each pantheon I have known rose from a previous. At least one surviving god passed on the traditions that preceded them, as a common form of language between deities. Should you venture to another reality or galaxy, then it helps to share some common ground. I must remind myself that the Confederacy is a governing body, not a pantheon as I know it.”

  The one called Davidson sat, and savored a mouthful of that foul smelling bean drink they all seemed to love. They drank it hot, too, for some reason.

  “Respectfully,” Voria snapped, her eyes aflame with her divinity, “you do not have the floor, Inura. We have not recognized you. You are a guest. We need to know what happened in that system. We need to know if these necromancers are a threat. Who are they? Why are they appearing now? We need to know if the other Great Ships can be salvaged. We have many questions. Please, why don’t you begin with what you discovered in the Kemet system?”

  “You don’t want to know how I survived?” Inura hated how petulant he sounded, but there it was.

  “No.” Frit rose to her feet, the fire goddess easily the most powerful deity in the room. “No one cares. Let’s deal with the current business so I can get back to mine. I don’t have time for old-god drama.”

  “I care.” Aran rose to his feet, and met Frit stare for stare. There was no love lost there, though Aran subsided when Nara placed a hand on his forearm. He turned to Inura. “It was my spell that disintegrated Inura. Yet here you stand. Diminished, but alive. You bear no touch of Xal, or I’d feel you. How did you do whatever you did?”

  “I am a shade,” he explained, without preamble or embellishment. “I placed my consciousness in this body, and gifted it with a large reservoir of life magic. In short, I cut off a small appendage and placed myself in it. I am weak. Pitifully weak. But all my knowledge and experience, all my artificing expertise, those things still exist. You are a newly anointed pantheon on the eve of a war that will dwarf anything that has come during your brief reign. The unseen fleets are not like other threats.”

  “And, pray tell, what are they like?” Voria’s tone carried her weariness.

  “You wanted my account. I will give it.” Inura straightened his posture, and reminded himself that he was the eldest here, whatever their relative strengths. It was his role to pass on knowledge they needed. “I have been in the Kemet system surveying the Great Ships. I spent time on each, enough to see that none will be so easy to claim as the Word. The ships lack magic, but they are populated by entire nations in some cases. During my survey I discovered a necromancer who claims to be my daughter aboard the Inura’s Grace. Necrotis found a way to murder the ship and raise it as the Maker’s Wrath. It is a tool for war now. One we should fear.”

  “Did the trade moon really fall to a single shot?” Aran’s hand dropped to his side where he rested it on the hilt of a potent eldimagus blade, a gesture one would expect from a mortal, but not a god.

  “Worse,” Inura countered. “A single shot killed everyone on that moon, without harming any of the tech. Necrotis sent down dozens of transports with skilled necromancers. Those necromancers are converting every soul on that moon into an army of incredible size. If not for the actions of a few heroes, the boy Jerek and his companions, that moon would be the gravest threat this sector has faced since Nefarius. As it stands that system belongs to our enemies. If they reinforce that moon with the other Great Ships there will be no stopping them.”

  “You mentioned unseen fleets.” Nara’s quiet voice drew all eyes. The demoness still looked more human than demon, but her wings and horns were growing. “What are they and how do they link to this Necrotis?”

  “We come to the heart of it.” Inura bowed his head. “One of the gravest threats overcome by the dragonflights were the unseen fleets. Back then spirit magic, and necrotech, were much more common. The unseen fleets trace their lineage back to the exodus from the Great Cycle, and at one time controlled most of this galaxy. The Wyrmmother, my mother, brought the dragonflights to break their grip on these systems. Doing so required all eight flights, and many allies, such as Xal and his offspring. Even Krox saw the need, despite being of spirit himself. He profited greatly from those wars, and absorbed many of their lesser gods.”

  Inura raised his head, and let his gaze roam them. He had them all then. Every set of eyes had locked on him, and they patiently awaited his next words.

  “The name unseen arose after we broke their power.” Inura’s eyes misted as he remembered back to his youth, his very first war. “We wrested the secrets of binding and necromancy, and the spirit realm from them. Only the unseen, those necromancers wise enough to avoid attention could hope to survive. We found and killed the rest, and called it justice. Those who escaped our extermination retreated to hidden corners of the galaxy. The largest enclave lies in this sector, which is why a goddess as powerful as Virkonna was charged with watching over it. You’d know it as Sanctuary, the raging storm. It covers a full light year, and within that mess lurk the unseen fleets. No one knows how many, or even what Catalysts a
re contained there. Not even gods do more than skirt the edges.”

  “So you’re telling me,” Aran interjected in a clear voice that captured all eyes, “that they’ve been patiently building up their forces while the sector tore itself apart? I don’t need to ask why this Necrotis is making her move now. She’s doing it now because we’re in disarray. We need to do something about the remaining Great Ships.”

  “What about Sanctuary itself?” Frit asked, concern etched on her youthful features. “Should we establish an outpost? I can ask my flame readers to scry it.”

  “Investigating would seem prudent,” Voria allowed, the first time she’d offered an opinion, Inura noted. Smart. “However, we are stretched thin and ill prepared to deal with a new threat. I’d recommend we focus our efforts on recovering the remaining Great Ships.”

  “I’d agree.” Aran nodded.

  “Likewise.” Davidson savored another sip of bean juice. “We can’t police a storm that these people already control. We can retrofit more warships, and get ready for a brawl if they decide they want one.”

  Relief crept into Inura’s gut, but he smothered it, denying the flame oxygen. They hadn’t done anything yet. This was all still just talk. If they took no action, then by the time they were prepared to deal with the unseen it would be far too late.

  But they wanted to help. They wanted to protect. They wanted to improve the galaxy. Hope, in spite of all his best attempts, sprouted in fertile soil.

  Epilogue

  I leaned back into luxurious pillows, and enjoyed the bed’s soft silk against my legs while I struggled to catch my breath. It was damned good to be out of the armor, even if briefly. And it was damned good to have lovely company.

  “You didn’t tell me it was your first time.” Vee wrapped a comforting arm around me, and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Two minutes isn’t really that bad.”

  I tried not to let her sympathy at my abysmal performance irk me. I hated being bad at things I enjoyed, though. Hated it.

  “Here, give it to me. I’ll show you how.” She gave an inviting smile that eased the sting of the words. “You just need practice is all. I’m happy to teach you.”

  “Fine.” I handed her the controller with my most petulant sigh. “Do not tell Briff. He will never, not ever, stop griefing me about this.”

  I focused on the holoscreen in the corner, which displayed a game very much different than Arena. Kem’Kem was a puzzler where different colored scales rained from the top of the screen. You had to arrange them with incredible precision, or they piled up until they reached the top and you lost.

  Be honest. You thought I was talking about something else, didn’t you? Get your mind out of the gutter.

  “You sure you don’t want to play something else?” I sighed as she perfectly controlled the flow of pieces onto the screen, while looking in my direction.

  “Sure, after I beat this level. Anything but Aren—”. Her smile died as she focused on something behind me.

  A distant buzzing in my head preceded the cold fire that rammed into my side, under the ribs. I didn’t realize a knife had caused the damage until the blade struck bone, and the assassin withdrew it for another attempt, warm blood spurting down my back.

  My elbow shot out with all the force I could manage, and my aim was true. It slammed into the assassin’s gut, which knocked the breath from him, and loosened his hold on the dagger. At least it meant he breathed.

  I focused on my magic, and cast a blink spell to the far side of the room. The assassin spun in place, my blood dripping from the dagger that he’d ripped loose when I’d ported as he struggled to locate me.

  Vee stepped in front of me, and snapped down her new bracelet. A brilliant swirl of blue-white sigils wound out of it to form a large shield, which she held protectively before the both of us.

  Vee’s aura flared, and the golden light of the Maker’s blessing drew tendrils of smoke from the assassin’s armored form. The damage seemed superficial, but the would-be assassin retreated a step, into the holo display, the happy music running counterpoint to his panting as brightly colored scales swirled around him.

  That gave me enough of a gap to snatch Dez from her holster near the nightstand. I took a moment to steady my aim, and I cast a good old dream bolt. I’d already seen how effective it could be.

  Warm pink energy filled the barrel, and my weapon discharged into the assassin’s face. I considered a second shot, my go-to normally, but having life magic changed my priorities. I was bleeding out.

  I placed Dez’s barrel against my side, and willed the flesh to knit back together. Warm golden energy flowed to the effected area, and the pain abated, though not entirely. The wound refused to heal, and I could feel something unnatural lingering there.

  “My work is done,” the assassin hissed, unfazed by my spell. “This vessel means nothing.”

  His entire body began to thrash wildly, and a thin silver cloud rose from his mouth. The body slumped over, discarded like a Ternus MRE container as the cloud dissipated into nothing.

  “Vee?” I clutched at my kidney, and gritted my chest against the cold. “Something’s not right about the wound.”

  Vee lunged across the bed, and pressed me onto my stomach to inspect the wound. Another wave of warm golden energy washed through me, and relief loosened my muscles, but once the spell stopped the strange knot returned.

  “It’s still there.” I probed the skin, which had healed. “We’ll need to get someone here to look at it. I’m told Shayan doctors are the best in the sector.”

  “Why do they want you dead?” Vee prodded the assassin’s body with her foot.

  “They don’t.” I groaned my way into a sitting position. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but something still felt off. “I don’t know what they’re playing at.”

  A shimmering cloud of unclean vapor began spraying from my ear, and I temporarily lost hearing on that side. I cupped it, unable to stem the tide as smoke flowed out of me.

  The vapor pooled into a meter-tall figure not unlike the version of my father that had visited me on the bridge. Only this wasn’t my dad. This was an Inuran. One I was coming to know far better than I’d like.

  “Utred.” I gripped Dez with both hands. “I don’t know what your game is, but I’m already tired of playing. What did you do to me?”

  “I merely offered a little incentive.” Phantom Utred delivered a pleasant smile. “I wanted to ensure you were fully aware of the stakes, and now I can communicate with you regardless of distance. Congratulations. You have acquired a very rare piece of necrotech. Or necroware to be more precise, not unlike the cyberware your sister favors. Anyway, enough about me. How did your visit with your father’s spirit go?”

  “Jer?” Vee still stood before me, her aura blindingly hot as it enveloped the room. “Should we attack this thing? He’s spewing nothing but lies.”

  “Not so far it isn’t.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what his game is, like I said, but I can tell you that he’s not lying. What do you want, Utred? You wanted to communicate? We’re communicating.”

  “Come to Sanctuary.” Utred’s smile grew mischievous. “You and I are going to do something no one expects. Deep in the storm lies a facility that predates the up-jumped lizards who conquered this sector. That facility is, unfortunately, hostile to the unliving. We are incinerated on sight. Only a mortal can even approach, much less find a way inside. An exceedingly clever mortal.”

  “So how does this play out? I head inside, gain control, and turn over a mega-powerful research facility to you? Something that can easily overpower the Word of Xal, probably. That’s not an arms race I want to get involved in.” I rubbed my kidney, which still had an ice cube lodged inside.

  “That’s one possibility.” Utred’s smile undulated in a sinister way. “Or you could seize the facility for yourself.”

  “I already have a Great Ship,” I pointed out. “What need do I have for super powerful factory? And why do you wa
nt me to have it?”

  “This isn’t merely a factory. This is a conduit. It was built inside the Great Cycle. Jerek, we can not only learn where we came from, but maybe get back to the paradise we were originally exiled from. Tell me you don’t want to know where we all originally came from. How all this started.”

  Taking Utred seriously took some work, but the ice cube lent weight to his arguments. The kind of knowledge a facility that old might hold…it had probably been created by an entirely different species. It would fill in a massive gap in our history. Maybe even learn about the beginning of everything, a question that haunted scholars. No one had any real idea how old the universe was. I hated to admit it, but the idea tempted me far more than it should have.

  “No, thanks. I already have plenty of reading to catch up on.” I held up the current knowledge scale I was studying. “The knowledge isn’t quite so old, but it’s a lot safer than flying into a death storm and meeting you and your buddies. I get what you get if I were to locate this ship. I don’t get what might incentivize me to help you. I mean, in spite of the free necroware, I still don’t trust you, for some reason.”

  “Very well.” Utred gave a deeply exaggerated sigh. “If you refuse to help I will be forced to transform your father into a reaper, one of our pet assassins. I will pick one of your loved ones at random, and your father will kill them. Each day you refuse to head to Sanctuary he will be forced to kill someone else that he loves. Is that really what you want for your father?”

  The fact that I knew he wasn’t lying chilled me more than the ice cube ever could. He really had my father, and would really turn him into the same type of assassin who’d attempted to kill my mother, and who’d given me my non-elective surgery.

  “Can I have some time to think about it? You’ve been reasonable so far.” I hoped I could play on his civility, which seemed important to him.

  “Of course. I will come to you again in a day’s time. Give it some thought. Perform auguries. Talk to gods. Whatever you wish…but if I return and the answer is still no? Well, your father will pay the price, Jerek. I’m sorry for that.” Utred’s tone expressed either genuine regret, or an amazing imitation. “Do the smart thing, Jerek. We can still be allies. There is no need for war between our people. Come to Sanctuary, and I will tell you all about this facility. We only want one specific artifact inside of it. The discovery could make your career, and give you the power to stop nasty people such as myself.”