‘Enustine and its imperial legions will ultimately prove no match for this new Dishan Alliance,’ Malizar advised. ‘However, do not underestimate them. By all means disperse your forces accordingly, but leave the largest force for Enustine.’
‘I will conduct the invasion myself,’ Wivartha said.
‘One more thing,’ Malizar said.
‘Anything, my Córonat.’
‘You remember what I told you all, before Ruben Berenguer attempted to kill us? You remember what I told you of what remains of the Iástron race?’
‘The Iástron children,’ Yux said. ‘You want us to kill the remaining Iástron children. Those you took from Europa and planted around the Systems.’
‘They are still out there. You will kill them.’
‘Consider it done,’ Wivartha said. ‘The Crilshan armies are at your disposal . . . should you grant us one thing.’
‘What?’
‘Titan.’ His hands bunched into fists.
Malizar lifted his head and with a wave of his hand granted the request. ‘Without its general, Titan is no threat. Do with her as you please. Now go. Leave me and Sudana alone.’
Yux and Wivartha Dishan bowed and left the metal gallery. Mokrikov loitered in the corner, overlooked by all.
Sudana waited in silence to hear her own part in the ceaseless crusade. Beneath her veil she could feel sweat from her brow. The rest of her face was dead, the tissue frozen.
She had been merely a child when her home was lost. None were ready when Europa fell. All were sleeping in their beds. The master, the man whose name they would no longer say, had abandoned them. But not Marrak Malizar. He alone had gathered the survivors and as many children as could be collected, and he saved them from death.
In spite of his actions many of those who survived had already been dealt a mortal blow. Sudana had been fortunate. Some fingers and toes had been lost; ears malformed; a portion of her scalp blackened, no longer able to nurture the auburn hair she had borne as an infant. She had even lost her nose, an injury she could never let go. Sudana had been fortunate. Many more had not.
The heat did not appear to affect the old man before her, seventy years old at least. She could understand that from him, but how the indigenous people lived like this, she could not imagine. The molten planet was rivalled in heat and volatility only by Io, moon of Jupiter, in the First System of Sol, and two planets of the system Crulux, in a region of space man once attempted to colonise.
The silence did not last. She decided she would wait no longer for her lord to speak. ‘What comes next?’ she asked, stepping forward.
‘You recall the Crilshans’ mission, the next stage of our design?’
‘The removal of all rivals from within the Order of the Allied Moon.’
‘We will begin with our friend from Bravoral: Lord Augustus Di-sak. He has been useful to us so far. But his worth has expired. The others too. Kind-Queen Aethisia will be buried beneath Samos.’ He said the words and did not blink. The children she had grown up with. The children she watched dispersed among the Alignment, while she remained with her master. Faithful. Fortunate.
It was decided. The time had come. The time he had spoken of for so many years. The time she had dreamt of for most of her life. ‘You spoke of the power of Enustine, my lord. Our agent—’
‘Will be disposed of just the same, even though they failed to gain upmost authority.’
He leaned in and lifted her veil. She fought the impulse to pull it back down; the feeling of helpless nudity forced her to look away. His hand touched her neck. She smiled as she could, in her own way. As always, Malizar was not disturbed, and he kissed her on the cheek. She only wished she could feel it.
‘Forget it all, mistress. For now you must focus your efforts elsewhere. I have a task for you. Something unique. To replace an old friend.’
‘Anything you ask,’ she said. ‘Where will you go?’
‘I will return to Earth.’ He glanced behind them. ‘Mokrikov will accompany me.’ With that he took her arm gently, and gazing at her eyes lowered the dark veil back across her frozen face. ‘The Systems are falling to us, Sudana. Now Earth will too.’
TWO
ANNA BERENGUER WOKE with a burning flash. She gasped in the cold expanse of the Titanese vessel Stellarstream. The viewing centre was empty, but for the single shape of the young woman as she sat alone. A camera set in the corner of the ceiling panned across the three separate levels which made up the gazing point. The steady ticking of auto-programmed equipment echoed across the room.
The sound of footsteps did not carry. Anna sat upright, turned, and looked up at the old woman, who with soft feet and cautious breath had crept up behind her. They gazed at each other without a word, and the old Iástron sat beside her silently.
‘Callista, it’s only you.’
‘Who were you expecting?’
‘At this time? No one.’
Together they looked up at the viewing centre projection, which relayed an image from the front of the ship. A planet rose before them. It was burning.
‘It’s Enustine,’ Callista said. ‘Don’t worry, we’re still a great distance from the planet. Captain Ferranti thought we could head there and find safety. He was wrong. Enustine has already fallen.’
‘It’s Crilshar,’ Anna said.
‘Yes. Yes, it is.’
‘What now then?’
‘We continue on, child. To Titan. To home.’
‘Home,’ she said.
‘You’ve hardly moved since I left you. It’s been days. Your sister needs you.’
Anna angled her head and looked down at her wrist, wrapped in a band of black and silver. Its hold had only gained since they had left the nightmare behind. It served as a bitter reminder of what she had seen back there; of what she had heard and discovered.
‘I used to dream,’ Anna said. ‘Every night. Horrible dreams usually. You know, I’ve not dreamt since Erebus. Since I put this on.’
‘Anna?’
She looked at Callista. ‘Okay. I’m ready. Is my sister awake?’
‘Awake and grumpy. She’s been asking for you.’
Neither Anna nor Callista spoke as they headed down to the medical bay. Anna had been in a state of contemplation since Erebus. Since she had learned of her connection with Peter Marx and the echoed power she had received from him. But mostly since she had discovered her missing father’s part in the horrific things that had taken place there.
There would have been a time, not long ago, when such a sequence of events would have excited her. The thought of confrontation and peril had always come hand-in-hand with adventure and gallantry when she had read daring tales of history’s heroes and villains. But now, faced with uncertainty, the realisation that her life would never again be safe and simple set in.
‘Annie!’ her younger sister cried when she and Callista entered the medical bay. ‘What took you so long?’
‘Hello, sis.’ Anna sat on the bed beside her. ‘How are the two of you?’
‘Still doing well,’ Gílana said, rubbing her tummy. ‘Callista’s been checking on me every day. She knew it was a boy!’
‘Of course I did,’ said the old woman, sitting down in a nearby chair.
Anna smiled and held out a hand to her sister’s womb. ‘Have you thought of a name?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Plenty time for that,’ Callista said.
Gílana grinned. ‘Are we nearly home?’
‘Not yet, sis. We’re still in Accentaurib. About a week left, I reckon.’
‘Oh well. At least you came to see me at last. I’m going mad down here! There’s only so many things to read in this place. And you know how I hate to read!’
‘Yes, you’ve made that clear for the last sixteen years.’
They laughed. Callista peered over one of the book-mags, raised an eyebrow, and continued reading.
Anna told Gílana the news about Enustine, about Crilshar, about what t
hey would do when they arrived home. But Anna could not picture home. The image of Enustine burned behind her eyes. A planet burning. A city burning. A people burning.
THREE
AT THAT MOMENT, as Anna pictured the projected image of Enustine’s demise, as she imagined the burning fate of the Enusti people, the Empress of Enustine felt the flames upon her very skin.
Adelaide Abacco walked slowly along the stone rampart of her palace as though no enemy was closing in. But the Crilshan hordes were out there. They had entered the palace. And they were coming. Her husband, the Emperor, walked beside her. Only she could see him.
‘The claws of Crilshar are long,’ he said.
She paid him no heed.
‘Ruben Berenguer has suffered defeat. His invasion of Crilshar failed. Listen to me, my love! Lord Di-sak of Mar-Andra died two nights ago. Kind-Queen Aethisia is also dead. Lines of communication with Samos are gone. Accentaurib will be taken.’
‘You are not really here,’ she said. ‘Not here. Leave me.’
‘Rotavar is burning, Adelaide! Contact with Accentauria is lost. Our people are dying. I am dead.’
‘Then why do I still see you?’
‘Because you are special, my one and only.’
‘You cannot help me now, darling. Leave me.’
She stopped and gazed from the stone window. Rain glanced off her white-painted face, merging with warm tears, and filtering down the azure dress which embraced her body as though fearful itself. A light from above struck the misty peaks in the distance. Night for a second became day and a wave of unparalleled heat tore through Enustine’s greatest city.
‘Do not do this!’ the Emperor cried. ‘Do not give yourself to them!’
Adelaide Abacco – Countess of Zade, wife to the late Emperor, and Empress of the Empire of Enustine – strode away calmly, down the stone rampart, bordered by snarling beasts of burden. She continued through a countless tally of ghastly chimeras, until she stood firmly in the entryway of her palace hall. Bodies crept within. None answered to her.
‘Find yourself somebody else to sneer at, creature!’ she told the brute eyeing her hungrily from his position against the wall. ‘I shan’t be made to feel uninvited in my own home.’
‘Your home?’ spoke the unwelcome visitor from across the stony expanse. ‘Your home?’
‘My home. Yes.’
The cloaked visitor, revealed through a wraithlike projection from a humming projector suspended above, leapt from the golden-laid throne and paced the length of the hall towards her. ‘Your home? I see none of your guard among us. Tell me, where are they?’
Heels fixed firmly together, Adelaide stood her ground. The visitor was Crilshan, doubtlessly communicating from an orbiting vessel by projection. Whether he was here or not, he would see no weakness in her.
The wraith paced around her, dragging his lengthy, dark cloak along the stone floor until he stood once more in front. The hovering projector droned ominously above. Its light poured down and formed the dark hood which covered the intruder’s face. The Empress raised her chin and watched him remove the hood. She gulped at the sight.
A face paler than hers painted white. Thin, ghastly features. A grin to stop the heart beating. And utterly black scleras framing irises, blood-red.
‘Wivartha Dishan,’ she said, unperturbed. ‘I expected your High Lord.’
‘Expect a little longer,’ he said. ‘Khulul!’ He spoke the dark word for impure. ‘Your empire has always threatened Crilshar more than any other Alignment world ever could. But to us, you are separated, spread out over three worlds and a dozen moons. No threat at all. You did not need to be dealt with until the time came, and your husband did not realise the danger posed until it was too late. Now the Emperor is dead.’
‘I know what you want from me, Dishan. But I shan’t bow to you. Nor any of your people that threaten mine.’
The man – if it made sense to refer to him as such – clasped his palms together and leaned forwards. ‘Submission is no longer acceptable.’
‘Then what?’
‘Only death will suffice for the impure.’
The Crilshan commander raised his hands and his soldiers seized her from behind. She gazed around the darkening room, the black barrages of the enemy filling the space in the skies above her home. Dozens of spear-wielding men surrounding her took out torches and set alight the vast drapes and streamers lining the hall.
‘Burn it all!’ Wivartha cried. ‘Burn this world to the ground! The khulul will suffer for their crimes. All will bow to the Dishan! Lords of the Systems, and—’
His image disappeared. The projector crashed to the stone floor.
The hands which had gripped Adelaide so tightly loosened and she fell to her knees. The crackle of burning adornments upset the rigid silence. She looked up slowly. The Crilshan soldiers had turned, spears facing outwards, as a line of her own guard stood at the chamber’s entrance.
‘Step away from the Empress,’ the foremost said.
The Crilshans cackled with laughter. Spears and blasters were raised. She watched her guards’ furious expressions, and pushed herself back along the ground.
‘We are the khulul!’ the foremost cried. ‘And proud to be. But that does not mean you are better, nor does it mean you will kill us.’
One of the Crilshans spat at their feet.
Silence.
Adelaide’s guard then responded, en masse, with a bombardment of burning fire, and the Empress threw her body to the ground. The edging of her clothes singed in the heat.
More hands pulled her from the ground. Her personal guard collided and fell against the enemy. Several were cut down as they left the hall. Her ears rang like the city’s alarm bells. Racing back along the rampart. Stone scraping beneath her feet. Fire followed. Fire and death. Her protectors disappeared as she staggered on, down the grand steps leading out of the palace.
Once outside, she stood back and gasped. Distant limbs of lightning struck far-off peaks as rain fell like bullets. She stepped forward, and recoiled at the mountains which altered the clouds. Colossal mounds of dark metal. A rolling bellow ensued. And spikes. Deep plunging spears. The spines of ruin.
The never ending pulse and beat tore through her. Stunned by the overwhelming darkness, she counted to three and shot across the debris-laden courtyard. Deadly dark energy blazed past her. Dust was left in her wake.
Several seconds and she was lay panting beneath an exposed stairway, clutching her tender midriff with her right hand and clinging to the wall with her left. As the encouraging cries of Enusti warriors and the vicious roar of incoming barrages filled her ears, a dreadful whine screamed across the yard. Several children charged up the steps, to be cut down by three chanting Crilshans. They ran towards her.
At first she thought they had missed her, but the last doubled back and yelled something in their dark tongue. A hand took her hair and pulled her from her hiding place. The glint of a knife. Laughing filled the ringing gaps. A cut into her thigh. Blood gushed onto the ground. Azure garments stained ruby-red. Her head spun, vision bright purple . . . black.
‘Ibrahatima katha!’
Three bright flashes and she fell to the ground. Her body was numb, though she pulled herself up and gazed across the courtyard at a mound of red metal. A figure stooped down.
‘What?’ she said. ‘What? Who . . . Who are you?’
The figure smiled. ‘I am Antal Justus,’ he said, reaching down with open palm. ‘Captain of the Crimson Flux. And I am here, Your Highness, to save you.’
FOUR
THE HEAVENS OF Enustine raged with war. Immense Imperial war vessels collided with the crushing barrages of Crilshar. Between them waves of small fighters smashed like raindrops in the eye of a storm. Eruptions of particle beams, ion hammers, multicoloured and blinding, shot across the skies. Metal seethed and boiled and froze, a thousand lives extinguished in the blink of an eye. The resulting wreckage was forced into space or else formed fragme
nted paths plummeting down through the lightning-filled cloud.
The encounter lasted minutes. All were consumed by a hurricane of chaos, of uncertainty. Were they alone? Who, if any, was winning? Or was it all already lost?
Among them the Crimson Flux, dark red and smaller than most, followed its own path, employing the planet’s gravity to manoeuvre through the fight, but covering itself from fire by concealing itself behind the largest Enusti warships.
Civilian cruisers were shot out of the sky. Crilshar was triumphant.
Then darkness.
Then silence.
Antal Justus sat at the helm of the Crimson Flux and watched several dozen silver-shining vessels evaporate in front of him. A bursting light devoured all. The grey planet disappeared behind as a Joint Leap was formed, the lost world Enustine abandoned.
Justus sat still as the adrenaline of the escape settled. The whoosh of burning space around his craft held silence at bay. His heart continued to race, his hands shook for more than an hour before he could sit back evenly. When he finally did, his co-pilot was already asleep. Beside him, lay exhausted in the co-pilot’s seat, Adra Dimal rested. Her eyes were closed, her long, curly blonde hair contrasted with Justus’ own short, black crop. It was an undeniable fact that the two differed in many more ways than he could count. Perhaps that was why he loved her.
Silent space embraced the ultimatt path outside. Enusti vessels reflected the deep blue rays. Justus set his coordinates to synchronize with those of the Enusti flagship. He allowed his craft to follow the fleet and, leaning back, closed his eyes.
He couldn’t help but relive the moment he had arrived upon Enustine and rushed to save Empress Abacco. He was used to it. Fast, dangerous extractions was what his crew was best at. The sensation of rescuing royalty made it all the more exciting. Adelaide Abacco had been hysterical at first, but she calmed eventually. The sedative helped. She had been given the entire medical quarter, beside the majority of the sleeping sections of the craft, to herself. Justus saw her once in the time between Enustine and their destination. His medic, Noah, had ensured that her injuries, however minor, had been seen to.