She froze. Voices, echoing down the corridor again. They were coming. Coming for her.
The band vibrated intensely. She began to panic. Heavy footsteps sounded along the next passage. Before she could think, she was clawing at the nearest cell door. Unlike the others, it had no markings. She pressed Gordian’s key fob up against it anyway. It opened. She jumped within and closed it carefully behind her. And there she waited, breathing heavy and deep.
The band on her wrist shook and pulsed so hard it was like electricity passing through her. She spun in the disorientating dark and did not move. A low clicking sound alerted her to another presence. Something or someone in there with her. Little by little, she focused her breathing and urged herself to do something. The clicking continued. She reached into her boot and fumbled about for her swiss-knife. Raising it up, she switched the tiny light on.
Her heart stopped. Her breath fell in small gasps.
Several small creatures – childlike, pale, and naked – cowered in the corner. The band pulsed upon her wrist and one of the creatures raised a hand. It made a clicking noise, and Anna understood.
‘Masterium,’ it said. ‘No harm. No harm.’
‘Who . . . Who . . . What are you?’
The band shook fiercely. The creature knew. ‘We Sonii, Masterium.’
‘And what . . . what is it you want?’
The creature looked to the others, slowly craning its neck back and forth, before gazing back pitiably. ‘We Sonii,’ it said. ‘We come for Gilaxiad.’
III
THE GREATER THREAT
FORTY-NINE
A STORM GATHERED over the flat plain of neglected earth which made up Vortan Manor. Bodies shifted silently between unmarked gravestones, the acidic tang of not-yet-fallen rain suspended in the air. Several lights inside the occupied wings of the manor house could be seen. The figures remained silent, smiling, faces masked in shimmering silver.
All those within the house were unaware of the danger as two-dozen figures barricaded the entrances and lit fires about the foundations. Smoke rose up and flames licked the window ledges. Then suddenly, from back across the field, a series of enormous booms! were heard, and a dozen projectiles soared across the lightning-filled sky. They landed at the base of the house. Chaos ensued. All those within were trapped. Dead. The power was cut. The light went out.
Darkness. Then silence.
Antal Justus stood overlooking a great black valley. The image of the burning house of his dream remained in his mind. He attempted to brush it off, and looked out from the high mountain ridge upon which he stood. The dark silhouette of terra firma lay between him and the horizon, which glowed faint orange, melting into the light blue of early morning. Hardly a cloud could be seen. Stood here, with nothing but the cold air and a rolling wind, it was as though no danger had, or ever could be existent.
The wind blew his hair, now longer and more unruly, into his eyes. His breath froze in front of his face. The rest of him was wrapped warm in dense layers.
The dream he had experienced the night before was fresh in his mind, and he replayed it like a broken visi-comm. The attack at Vortan Manor could well have been nothing more than a dream. But if not . . .
Footsteps crunched the snow behind him.
‘Good morning,’ Cathal said.
Justus watched the great contour before him grow brighter and more orange. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Even out there, confined to a cramped craft and surrounded by a vacuum that will do anything to kill you. This is so much lonelier. So much more . . . beautiful.’
‘Can I ask you to do something for me, Antal?’
‘Anything, father. Anything.’
‘Imagine something for me. Picture a clear night sky, like the one that is passing, the light of the full, far away moon shining down through empty branches of a lone tree. You stand beneath that tree and look up. But as you focus, time stands still, and the nights and days merge together. The birds around no longer sing, and the moon waxes and wanes in one, single constant motion.’
As though shaped by an atom bomb, the sky ahead lit up, bright white and orange. Day had come.
‘I feel at peace,’ Justus said. ‘Like no dark or evil can influence me.’
‘And there you find your strength, son. There you find your motivation. It comes from within. From an internal peace. All that we have done these past months, all that we have seen, has been to give you something I lacked for so long. You have perspective. And from that comes wisdom. Your physical self is stronger now. Your echo revealed. But there is something else you have within you. And it must wait.’
‘For what?’
‘For the right moment, son.’
Justus breathed in and turned away. A cold gust of wind sent his head spinning.
His father placed a hand upon his shoulder, squeezed it slightly. ‘You feel it too?’ A tone of worry gripped his guttural voice.
‘I feel it,’ he said. ‘What is it?’
‘Something dark. Something powerful.’
‘Is it him?’
Cathal looked away.
‘We have to go back,’ Justus said.
The old man stepped toward the edge of the rock and leaned over. ‘The time will come when you are faced with a choice,’ he said. ‘I hope now you have the knowledge and the strength to make the right one.’
‘But you will be there alongside me. You know what we can achieve together.’
‘Far be it for me to tell you what you have inside. What you may accomplish. But I will not lie about this. My end is near. I am stood on the edge. I feel weak. Make no mistake. Whatever the fate of this world, Antal, its end will be as a consequence of your decision to act . . . or not to act.’
FIFTY
A SINGLE LIGHT leaked from the stone crevices of Vortan Manor. A candle flickered upon Aíron Veryan’s desk. Sat with her chin in her hands, elbows on the edge of the writing table, she gazed at the tiny light. It offered a radiance which filled the entire bedroom, even with the cold wind from the open window disturbing its delicate flame. Thunder rolled in the distance. A storm was on its way.
Aíron had lit a candle every night for Raj. One-hundred and sixty-four so far. One-hundred and sixty-four days since Justus and Dimal had left. No word had been received from either of them. She knew they wouldn’t be coming back. She had told herself that for weeks. Noah and Shree said nothing, though the medic came and spoke to her at times. Lanfranc Vortan was the one that she saw the most. His training in the art of fencing was the only thing keeping her focused.
Paper and pen lay discarded in front of her. She had no idea what to write. She couldn’t write about her parents, away in their next lives. What they were doing now, she did not know. But whatever it was, she wanted to picture them happy, safe, together.
A sound like movement from outside. She stood and walked to the window. Her bedroom looked out onto the cold graveyard, nothing like her home on Manera. She gazed out, saw the forked flash of lightning in the distant mountains, with small droplets of rain touching her hands as they rested on the windowsill.
Three knocks rapped at her door and Lanfranc Vortan entered. She smiled. ‘Hello—’
‘Quiet, Aíron,’ he said. ‘Come with me. Quickly!’
She followed him from the room and down the corridor, into his own master bedroom. All lights were switched off. Noah and Shree were stood within. Noah’s face looked horrified. Shree held a large hunting rifle in her hands, her eyebrows puckered inward.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Close the door,’ Vortan said.
She did, leaving them in the low candlelight coming from the room’s corner. Vortan moved over to his large four-poster and took out a pistol, which he placed into a holster on his belt. Already attached was a lengthy sabre. He raised another blade and handed it to her.
‘Now’s your time to show me what you’ve learned, Aíron.’
She took the blade and wrapped it around her waist. ‘Wh
at’s going on?’
‘There’s no easy way to say this, Aíron. We’re all in danger.’
‘What? Are we?’
‘It’s the Allied Moon,’ Noah said. ‘They’ve found us.’
Vortan peered out the window. ‘Hell only knows how. They’re out there. Just outside the house. They’ve been there several minutes. My motion alarms picked them up.’
‘They’re coming for us.’ Aíron shivered.
‘We need to find a way out,’ Noah said. ‘And quick.’
Shree nodded bravely, rested her rifle on her shoulders.
Before any could move, however, the floor beneath them shook. From the bedroom window, heat and flame erupted. The glass shattered, flying about the room.
‘Out into the corridor,’ Vortan said. ‘Go!’
The four moved out. Vortan first, followed by Noah. Aíron stuck close, with Shree behind her. They darted through the dark hallway, the ground shaking beneath the house. They reached the top of the main stairs.
‘Go back!’ Vortan said. ‘Get back!’
Noah, Aíron, and Shree ran back along the corridor.
‘They’re in the house,’ Noah said.
Vortan caught them up. But he was not alone. Blaster fire echoed the length of the hallway, striking the furniture and portraits lining the passage.
‘This way!’ Noah cried.
Shree pushed her along.
Figures stood at the end of the hallway. They all froze. Aíron took out her sabre. More blaster fire filled the air. She dropped the blade and backed up. Shree charged down the corridor, firing fearlessly. Vortan pulled Aíron back as another rumble shook the floor. The large chandelier from above collapsed down, hurtling through the floorboards.
Aíron fell forwards. Her leg dropped through. She leaned back. Vortan’s hand missed her. She dropped through the wood, brought her arms up, and landed on her back. Softly.
What?
‘Hello, Aíron Veryan.’
She looked up into familiar, strong blue eyes. ‘Antal?’
‘Let’s get you out of here.’ He held her in his arms, covering her from the blast which shook the air about them. The wall collapsed behind. Metal seethed through. Scarlet metal. A ship. The rear access ramp lowered, and Justus placed her down.
‘The others!’ she said. ‘The others are up there!’
‘Go on up. I’ll get them.’
Justus turned as the room’s door swung open and several silver-masked men swarmed through. In a dizzying flurry of movement Aíron couldn’t keep pace with, the immobile bodies of the men littered the carpet in a matter of seconds. Justus charged from the room, and in no time at all the four were rushing up into the craft. They pulled out of the fiery wreckage of the house, and the Flux lifted off, taking to the skies, leaving the burning manor behind.
FIFTY-ONE
JUSTUS SAT IN quiet thought on the journey to Avaris City. The Scarlet Flux shot silently through the cold, high air. Cathal and Vortan sat up front, steering the craft on an extended route in an effort to lose any pursuing members of the Order. It didn’t look like they were being followed, but it definitely was not worth the risk. It didn’t take long to reach Avaris. From afar it seemed so dazzling, so impressive. The closer they came, however, the nearer the truth. The closer his final conflict.
Aíron’s head rested across his lap as he sat at the back of the cockpit. She slept soundly despite everything he had put her through. Across from them, Noah sat quietly, watching. Shree’s large head and shoulders lay across his lap. Noah’s face was red and he mouthed ‘I can’t feel my legs.’
Justus smiled in spite of himself.
Avaris seemed just as deteriorated from the sky. It was a city that had lost itself, drowned among the filth of human greed and aspiration. The Flux set down inside a tall, rundown building near the centre of the city. Here they would be safe, within a hidden apartment Vortan and Cathal once planned under a forged identity.
‘There are four bedrooms,’ Cathal explained as they entered. ‘Noah and Shree may share. Justus, Aíron, Lanfranc. You may have one each.’
‘What about you?’ Justus asked.
Cathal smiled and pointed to a large armchair. Justus didn’t respond. He couldn’t be bothered arguing about it right now.
The apartment itself was spacious and adorned with antique frames and bookshelves. The walls, floor, and ceiling were pure white and spotless. Noah, Aíron, and Shree paced about the apartment.
‘Why are all your things here?’ Noah asked, sliding books out of their position with a single finger, shaking his head, and pushing them back.
‘I used to come down here on my own in the winter when the manor seemed so cold,’ Vortan said. ‘Only, it was always cold. I found myself coming here more and more. You can hear the people out there, always moving and making noise. For a time it was the only way I could sleep.’
‘Isn’t the point of a safe house that you never come unless you’re in danger?’ Noah asked.
‘Don’t worry, this place is secure,’ Cathal said as he sank back into the red-leather armchair. ‘It’s not under any of our names.’
‘And I never came without deviation,’ Vortan added. ‘We’re safe here.’ He said it with a short glance at Aíron.
Justus knew they couldn’t be one-hundred per cent certain of what they were saying. They knew Malizar. They knew how far his arm could stretch.
Noah sighed cynically and picked up a picture frame from a dark bookcase. ‘Who is this?’ he asked.
Justus moved over and looked at the picture. A younger Lanfranc Vortan stood smiling with his arm around a beautiful woman. Beside them stood a young girl, no older than two or three years. She was almost a double of the beautiful woman, obviously her mother.
‘Who is she?’ Justus asked.
Vortan smiled sadly. ‘I’m not surprised you don’t remember her, Antal. She is . . . was my daughter. We lost contact many years ago, though I think about her every day. She held you the day you were born. She was so excited to see you. She would play with you all the time. That is, until, she went away with her mother, years ago now, after our marriage failed.’
Justus watched his father in the armchair. Cathal looked away, out into the city lights.
‘What’s her name?’ Aíron asked.
‘Avéne. Beautiful Avéne.’
At once Noah, Aíron, and Shree looked to Justus.
‘You’re joking.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Ha!’ Justus laughed, dumbfounded. ‘Avéne . . . Ketrass?’
‘How . . . she . . . you know her?’
‘I know her, yes.’
‘She’s the woman,’ Noah began. ‘She’s the one . . .’
‘What? She’s the one what? What do you know of my daughter?’
‘The last we knew of her,’ Justus said, ‘she was headed to Titan.’
‘Titan? Is this some kind of joke?’ He looked to Cathal, who gazed back, and shook his head.
‘I had no idea, Lanfranc.’
Justus placed his hand on Vortan’s shoulder. ‘I spent some time with her, Vortan. She was . . . part of the Erebus Project. I’m sorry.’
‘No!’
‘I’ll tell you one thing, she’s strong. And she has one heck of a mouth.’
He sobbed into his hand. ‘Avéne. My baby. My little Avéne.’
‘She used the name Ketrass.’
Vortan’s shoulder’s dropped, as did the volume in his voice. ‘Her mother’s name. How extraordinary that you would meet her again. Fortune’s Gift, I deem.’
With that, Vortan wandered, aimless and almost intoxicated, into his bedroom. Cathal remained in his armchair. The others gave Vortan some time alone. He didn’t appear for hours. They all understood.
FIFTY-TWO
‘THE LEAP IS almost finished.’
Ruben Berenguer looked up from his meal, placing the spoon on the table. Yux Dishan entered the empty refectory and sat upon a stool opposite. Ruben a
voided eye contact and swallowed a mouthful of lukewarm stew before sitting back.
Eventually he said, ‘How do I know I can trust you?’
‘You don’t,’ Yux responded, indifferent.
‘Then why are we doing this?’
The Crilshan leaned forward. ‘Because if we don’t, then we both lose everything that we care about.’
‘You want to rescue the Alignment?’
‘I want to rescue my people.’
‘From themselves?’
‘From my uncle. From his regime. From a system, an authority, which has for years now told them what they are, what they should be, never giving them a chance to choose for themselves. My people, General, are just as much victims as the Alignment. Just as much as Titan.’
‘You believe that?’
‘I know it, General.’
‘Don’t call me General,’ he said. ‘I don’t deserve that title.’
‘It’s not your choice what you deserve, Ruben. Just as it isn’t my choice how I am known throughout these Systems.’
‘So that’s what this is all about? Your reputation.’
‘My reputation died the day I was born. I never had the choice. Until now.’
Ruben picked up his spoon and took another mouthful of the stew before it went cold. He mulled the High Lord over in his thoughts as he picked up the bowl and sipped the rest in small tastes. He knew the Crilshan had spent his life trapped in that misshapen body. He knew he was innocent, and recognised a good man when he saw one. Yux Dishan was a better man than he. And it killed him.
‘We have made our agreement,’ Ruben said. ‘I will stick to it and trust you.’
Yux smiled. ‘That is the what. Now comes the how.’
‘Sum it up for me, High Lord.’
‘Do not call me that. Neither of us have titles anymore. We are mere men, only.’
Ruben nodded. ‘Tell me your design.’
Yux looked behind him at the empty cantina before leaning in and speaking hushed. ‘I have kept track of the movements of the remnants of Enustine. After the attack five months back, they fled to nearby Ineri and buried themselves far within the mines. They were joined by the exodus of Samos, Proveria, and later other worlds. Very few survived my uncle’s purge.’