Blood Betrayal Read online

  Putting the thoughts out of her mind, she floated back over the Tigolean ship, perhaps a mile into the sky, making the vessel appear tiny. She looked for anything out of the ordinary on the slightly rolling sea, but it was nothing but water and sky. Thyss expanded her search, working out away from the ship in a circle. She was some distance south, perhaps two miles, but well under a mile from the coast when she spotted something. She could have easily missed the slight disturbance on the otherwise calm surface, bubbles rising to the surface from something below.

  She brought herself down to float perhaps only an inch above the ocean’s surface, and she watched curiously as the stream of small bubbles continued to come up and pop. Occasionally, the water would lap upwards, touching her gaseous flesh, one of the most odd and cool sensations she’d ever felt. Thyss dropped lower, merging with the water as she turned herself from one elemental form to another, and she needed only drop perhaps twenty feet into the sea before she saw the thing she had never imagined. It was only, perhaps, another hundred feet down.

  It was immense, though how much so was hard to tell from this distance, and it appeared like the jellyfish she had sometimes seem float near the coasts. It had a large, circular head that appeared wider than the rest of it and blocked her view of its body. The effervescence surely arose from it, steady and constant, and she wondered if it was some kind of sign from the Chronicler, for surely this was the place he had spoken of through Ja’Na’s writing. Beautiful and frightening at once, she realized she shouldn’t be able to even see from so far, but the thing glowed with an almost sinister, weird blue light. She was certain that it was made of steel, but no steel that she knew of would survive so long fully submerged.

  Regardless, she ascended back to the surface and transmuted back into air, the urgency that it was almost all over tugging at her. Simultaneously, the fact that this chapter of her life – no matter how wonderful, no matter how dark – was at its end slowed her desire to return to Cor and the Tigolean ship.

  Cor’El

  He had stayed in the Loszian’s abode for weeks with no sign from anyone, not Dahk, not Zheng, no one, and the restless anger and futility of it all infused his very being. Nothing distracted him – neither food, nor wine, not even the girls that his newfound subjects tried to bring him. Even inflicting pain on others grew boring. Eventually, Cor’El had put Menak out of his misery. It wasn’t so much out of mercy for the wretched thing that had once been a Loszian sorcerer; it was just that he no longer found joy in the suffering, and Menak kept him up at night with the constant moaning, weeping and gurgling.

  And then one morning, Cor’El bolted upright in bed as if struck by lightning. He’d slept late into the morning, as was usual in his current state of blubbering depression, unwilling to even leave his bed for the knowledge that a new day brought yet another day without the one woman he loved. But this day was different. He realized with a start that the veil that hid the Dahken from him had been ripped away. He could feel Dahken Keth and perhaps twenty more, and neither Cor, nor his mother were with them. But surely, they couldn’t be far away.

  He hurriedly stepped outside of his privacy and into the cool air beyond, completely ignoring his lack of boots or even clothing. Had he been hiding so long in the dark that summer had passed him by? It certainly seemed to be so, and the sunlight forced him to squint, so unaccustomed to it that he was. The air was fresh and crisp, making him realize just how rank and foul he must be having cooped himself up inside for so long. He would have to rectify that before he lay with his mother again.

  His mother! He sensed her as well, some miles away from Keth and the Dahken. Suddenly, they were no longer of interest to him as Cor’El sought out her blood. Curiously, it wasn’t to be found, but he still felt her presence as she languidly flitted about in the clouds over the ocean, far to the south and east. Almost instantly, he dissolved to join with the air currents, but even they seemed to defy him, always wanting to blow west when his destiny was the other direction.

  Commander Paul Chen, Chronicler

  “To any SACA vessel intercepting this message. Contact or find Commander Kristine Dixon. I’m waiting for her at the underwater SACA facility on Arcturus V. You have to hurry. I don’t know how long I’ll last. Come get me, Dix.”

  Paul sent the message in quite literally every direction possible, bouncing the signal off every moon, asteroid or piece of space debris, even the orbiting hulk of Herbert Walker. It was a full audio-visual recording, much like the ancient television signals broadcast from Earth so long ago, and he had to laugh at the image portrayed. It pictured him, from his head to his chest, and he wore a formal uniform – not deck fatigues, but not full dress either, just like the one Admiral Zheng was so fond of. His message didn’t show what he really looked like, but rather another residual mental image.

  If anyone saw what he really looked like, he doubted that they would come for him. Paul’s body, though it only pushed forty, already looked like the dried out husk that he and Dr. Hightower had liberated from the Chronicler’s chair. The complete lack of physical exercise for years had caused his muscles to completely atrophy to nothing; he doubted that he could even stand under his own power, despite only weighing maybe fifty, fifty five kilos. As his muscle mass deteriorated, the computers fed him less calories to avoid obesity. Jesus, a short walk may very well give him a heart attack.

  He sat in there, connected to the computers and machines by various tubes and wires and most importantly by the Universal Link Device implanted into the back of his skull. If only he could devise a way to give those things more than a few hundred yard range, then perhaps this wouldn’t have to happen this way. But really, there was no time. Besides, could someone actually live while still being the Chronicler? Somehow, Paul doubted the possibility.

  He “leaned” back to watch the world, more specifically the narrow ship with the fanlike sail that cut its way through the water toward his little signal. He certainly couldn’t have explained to Cor in any terms the Dahken would understand how to find the underwater station, other than giving him just a general idea of its location. Paul had opened one airlock just slightly, just a few millimeters to allow the seawater to seep in, and the air inside had to go somewhere. It dribbled upward in a steady stream to the surface, and he knew that somehow Cor would find it. Paul had to reset it twice as the airlock filled up over the course of about two hours. The wait was the worst.

  The cutter pulled within about a dozen meters of his signal, with the blonde haired Thyss pointing over the rail, and still clothed in all black, Cor came over to inspect her discovery. Paul surely could have listened to their conversation, but he felt no need; no doubt they were discussing how to get down to him. He closed the airlock, its leaking air no longer necessary, and expelled the water back into the sea while he watched and waited.

  Unbidden, Dix’s features came to his mind and morphed the sorceress’ own. Was it the first signs of data decay? Or perhaps just the longing of an idle mind? He’d see her soon enough, but only months or even weeks would have passed for her. For Paul it had already been fourteen years, and who knew how much longer?

  He cleared his mind of his musings as Thyss jumped into the water, followed by Cor after he had removed his boots. Despite years of watching them, these people never ceased to amaze Paul as he watched the water move away from them until they stood in a semicircle seemingly on the water itself! They began to sink further into the sea, and once fully submerged, the pair held each other in a sphere of air that purposefully moved toward the station. According to the past Chronicles, the woman Thyss had always considered herself a priestess of the scientist turned arsonist god she knew as Hykan, but it appeared that, during his time as Chronicler, she learned that she could equally access all of the elemental magicks.

  Paul wondered if she would ever realize that her power was limitless, just like her son’s or Cor’s. Was she beginning to suspect?

  They descended toward the soft glow of th
e station, past fish of all kinds that generally avoided them, including one, lone shark that circled slowly as it watched with black eyes. Just over halfway, Paul opened one of the four airlocks spaced around the station’s head at perfect intervals, spilling bright white light into the darkness of the deep previously only illuminated by the facility’s ambient glow. As he hoped, the bubble adjusted its course, bringing the two directly for the open door. They arrived without incident, though the bubble’s surface seemed to undulate slightly as it entered the airlock. Paul closed the door behind them, causing a sudden panic as Thyss’ magical conveyance lost its integrity. He quickly drained the water from the eight foot cubed room, causing its occupants to gulp down the air greedily.

  “Sorry about that,” he said in the Western language across the station’s intercom. “When the door opens, just come straight down the corridor. You’ll know when you find me.”

  They stood in the steel cube looking about in wonder, either for the disembodied voice or the lighting that must have appeared as magic. When the door slid open with the hum of hydraulics and a slight hiss of the last bit of pressure equalization, Paul saw them nearly flinch as they swallowed to ease the pressure in their ears. Cor was the first to venture forward, cautiously placing a hand on the edge of the door as he peered out of the airlock, first straight ahead and then to his right and left.

  “Straight on. It’s okay,” Paul said, momentarily cursing himself for the idiom, though Cor seemed to understand it, likely from his dealings with Doc.

  Cor stepped out of the airlock and onto the steel grating that served as flooring throughout the station, and he tilted his head trying to make out any details down the four foot wide hallway of steel, conduits and bundles of fiber optic cabling. With a glance back at Thyss, the Dahken cautiously, slowly began padding with his bare feet toward the station’s command center. Thyss followed him slowly but not with trepidation, more out of quiet reticence, and their clothes and hair dripped onto the floor and down to the levels below.

  After a few minutes that felt like hours, they exited into the circular command center in the center of which Paul sat. They gazed open mouthed at everything they saw, unquestionably unable to fully comprehend the technology that existed around them – white lights set into the ceiling, holographic computer interfaces and the various connections, both wireless and physical, that kept Paul’s dried out husk of a body connected to all of Rumedia.

  He struggled, fought with his own atrophied body to open his eyes. True, he could see them through the computer just as he could see the entire world, but he wanted to look upon them with his own eyes. After a moment of herculean effort, the lids finally slid upward, and the LED lights above him burned into them, causing him to half close them again. He adjusted the lighting controls to reduce the retina burning brilliance while his eyes adapted.

  “I’m sorry we have to meet like this,” Paul said in his own voice, but for the use of English and the vile, strangled gargling his disused voice made, the two only looked at him in confusion. He tried again, but this time he used the intercom, translated to Western, “I’m sorry we have to meet this way.”

  Cor approached, slowly but without fear and rolled a chair away from a computer interface over toward him. He sat and replied, “I’ve never seen such a place, except maybe once.”

  “The museum where you found Ebonwing,” Paul nodded, mentally at least. “Both places are relics of times long past.”

  “Museum?” Cor asked.

  “It’s a place where they keep things from the past, so that people can learn of history.”

  “Sounds pointless. I’ve spent my life combatting the past,” Cor replied.

  “I suppose it is,” Paul said as he considered the idea. He dismissed it to address the task at hand, “Cor, I’m so sorry to ask this of you, but you’re the only one who can do it.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I have to end my son’s life, and I can’t do it directly.”

  “And you’re the only one who can protect Rumedia in the future,” Paul concluded. “It’s your choice, though. Are you sure? Are you ready?”

  “I suppose so, but how will I know… how to…”

  “Don’t worry. It’s hard to explain, but I’ll still be here, I guess you’d say in a vault of my own. I’ll show you how everything works.”

  Cor began to stand, but Paul continued to speak, his voice echoing through the titanium alloy trappings of the station, “I have a favor to ask of you first, as if I haven’t asked enough.”

  “What is it?” Cor asked.

  “You know you can’t let any of my people back to Rumedia, but I need you to allow one. You’ll know her when you see her. She has the silken white skin of a Northwoman and hair of gold like your Thyss,” Paul explained with a look at the sorceress, and it was odd to him that he suddenly waxed poetic when describing Dixon. “She’ll be coming to get me. I’ve asked her to, though I may be dead. I beg you.”

  “You’ve given your life, Chronicler,” Cor said, and he placed a hand on his heart. “You have my word.”

  “Call me Paul.”

  And with that, Paul pressed the button. Not literally of course, but he activated the protocol that expelled him as Chronicler, the protocol that was generally only used when the body of whomever was Chronicler could no longer maintain life. Fire pierced him as tubes of various types and sizes suddenly retracted from his body, some leaving gaping wounds, but the pain gave him something to focus on, something real, and it partially amazed him that his body could still feel. Cor stood from his chair, causing it to roll backward, and he reached down to lift Paul from the Chronicler’s throne. Paul grimaced slightly from the white hot of open wounds and the dull ache of his body being moved as Cor gently laid him on the cold floor.

  “I’ll heal you,” Cor said.

  And Paul understood him. The link device imbedded in his skull had turned off the moment he disconnected himself, and Paul no longer heard the world through his mind. Yet somehow, he still comprehended the Western language. Perhaps, years of being connected to everything had taught his subconscious the language, as it wasn’t too dissimilar from English.

  Though Paul couldn’t see them, he felt Cor place his hands on his body, and the soft, warm glow of Garod’s power lit up the edges of his vision. It lasted for a few seconds, but Paul felt nothing different. He’d expected to have the pain disappear, to have his body suddenly strong and energetic again, but nothing happened. He began to chuckle, to laugh when the realization of it all dawned on him, and even to his own ears, it was a truly frightening sound, like the vile laugh of some demon before it consumed a child.

  Everything’s different here, he thought, recalling a conversation with his father some thirty plus years ago. Matter here combines differently, works differently. That’s why these people have powers, but the powers don’t work on me. They won’t work on anyone not from here, because the matter doesn’t interact the same.

  His frame shook with the violence of his laughing, causing him to hack much like a Dahken might as he slowly bled to death. The obviousness of it all struck him hysterically. Zheng’s wasting his time!

  Cor simply knelt beside him, placed a comforting hand on him until the fit finally passed, but the hacking had the advantage of clearing his throat, lungs and vocal chords just enough for Paul to say, “Go.”

  Cor straightened his legs, standing over him for just a moment as they shared a gaze. Cor’s eyes showed pity, sympathy and resolve, and Paul’s… Well, Paul had no idea what his showed as he could no longer see himself as he had for years. He watched Cor step gently over him to stand quietly before the chair that would take his life, that had taken so many before him, and he turned around to prepare himself for what was about to come.

  And then Thyss, whom Paul had almost forgotten was even there, screamed, “No! You’re not doing this!” She stormed over to her lover with long strides to stand mere inches from him. “You can’t do this!”

  “I
have to,” Cor replied. “It’s the only way to end this.”

  “No,” she argued, “he hasn’t been able to find this. We can just keep going – go to Tigol, the North, Dulkur, anywhere. He can’t find us.”

  “For how long?” Cor asked, rhetorically. He cut her off before she could answer, “You know it’s only a matter of time. What if I don’t do this now? What if I miss the chance, and I have to face him directly? What then?”

  “Then I lose both of you anyway,” Thyss reasoned, and Paul realized for the first time ever since he’d been watching the sorceress that tears of genuine sorrow rolled down her cheeks. Cor reached up and placed a hand on each side of her face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “He’s already lost to me, but at least I would have you a little longer that way.”

  Cor leaned in and kissed her with deep longing, a kiss she returned, the first they’d shared in the weeks since it all happened. Paul felt his heart melt, and if he could have vocalized it, he would have told Cor to take his love and run away with her for as far and as long as they could go. These two shared that which he’d never known, for his own faults, and because of their sacrifice, he might, just might have a shot at it. Either for the feelings or the burning in his eyes for their sudden use after years of being closed, he also wept.

  “I can’t risk it,” Cor said after breaking the kiss. “If I were to fail, I would condemn you to… I won’t let that happen.”

  “He’ll never take me again,” Thyss argued defiantly. “I’ll kill myself first.”

  “Something else I can’t allow,” Cor replied with a gentle smile. “I have to do this. I’m the only one who can.”