Chapter 24: Harmonic Hues III
"Conclusion: I am Scipio."
Ikharos wordlessly left her with the Frame to ask her questions. Formora had so, so many. Everything around her was... impossible. A lost ruin of an ancient ship some miles off Vroengard, and never once had she or any other Rider noticed it. They had been the rulers of the air - but the ocean was a frontier in which they held no power, no sway, no expertise.
That was the only excuse she could think of.
"Are you from another world?" Formora inquired.
The Frame's circular crystal eye didn't blink. Not once. "Affirmative."
It wasn't in the ancient language. For all she knew, it could have been a bare-faced lie, but the Warmind's voice held a tone she had never heard before. It was powerful, authoritative, emotionless, and old. This was something else, something bigger than she could imagine. She was in a place just as unreal as the hidden city to the north of Vroengard. Another location that the Riders, despite their thousands of years in power, had never once found. Formora didn't know what to make of the Warmind. It was, quite frankly, terrifying. She hadn't missed how Ikharos had struggled to withhold his mounting anger with the entity before them. Even he feared it.
In the end, Formora chose to believe Scipio because she didn't think something so powerful would have any reason to lie. She wasn't sure if it could lie. Whatever Warminds were, they weren't like elves, humans, dwarves, Urgals, or dragons. They were something else entirely, something that transcended flesh and bone.
"Were you created by humans?"
"Affirmative."
Formora closed her eyes. Humans were erratic creatures. They were short-lived, and in those short lives they strove to change the very world just so it would accommodate them. She never knew what drove Anurin, second leader of the Dragon Riders, to include them in the blood-pact with the dragons. So much would have been avoided if they hadn't been included. Galbatorix would have never risen. But that was false and she knew it. Elves weren't perfect either, far from it, and it was the elven Riders who ruled that failed the Order nearly as badly as Galbatorix had. She had been forced, but others had chosen to turn on their former allies of their own accord.
Even so, what had inspired the humans to create Scipio? Did they face a threat so extreme that they had to create an entity that eclipsed everything they themselves were capable of? What could have possibly driven them to do that?
"Why were you created by humans?" She asked.
"Function: Security." Scipio's single eye never left her.
"Security against what?"
"Analysis: hypothesized extrasolar threats."
"What does that mean?"
"Extrasolar threats: Hypothesized nonhuman organisms bearing hostile intent. Example: Airan."
"Nonhuman-!" Formora's mind whirled. It jumped to terrifying conclusions. "Everything that isn't human?!"
"Priority one: Protect humanity."
"Just humanity?"
"Objective: Maximize human/neohuman survival."
It did little to reassure her. Ikharos had claimed elves to be neohumans - which was ridiculous - and the Warmind proclaimed that it protected humanity and neohumans both. If it believed the same thing as Ikharos, then elves were part of those it protected.
If it didn't, then her people were toeing a very fine line between ignorance and extinction.
"Am I neohuman?"
"Affirmative."
That was better. Not great, but better. She gave her next question some thought. "This place around us... Was it a ship?"
"Affirmative."
"It sailed through the skies and the airless place between worlds?" She distinctly remembered how the air would grow thin when she and her dragon tested how high they could fly.
"Affirmative."
"What happened to it?"
"Error: Classified."
It didn't want to say. There wasn't much she could do to change that, so she moved on. Formora rallied her courage and asked, "Are you a god?"
Scipio didn't give her an immediate answer. Formora, on a whim, opened up her mind and sent out a probe to extract her answers. She gasped. The Warmind wasn't like the Frames - it had a consciousness. And it was more vast and powerful than anything else she'd ever known.
It encompassed the entire world.
000
The combat Frame was waiting in the hanger with a pulse rifle in its hands and a fusion cannon strapped to its back. It wore military-grade armour plating over its fragile struts and chassis, every inch of it painted a deep grey. The Warmind emblem was stamped in the dead centre of its chest. Its single squared optic glowed a bright orange. It offered Ikharos a salute as soon as he arrived.
"Designation: Kida 99-40, R5 Specialist," it said in its blank mechanical voice.
"Where's the rest of your unit?" Ikharos pressed.
"Destroyed during events of REDACTED. Fireteam unit involved in seventeen missions."
"Combat-orientated missions?"
"Affirmative."
Xiān whistled. She hovered over Ikharos's shoulder. "Seventeen missions. That's no small feat."
"Depends on the missions," Ikharos said, bearing an indifferent air, but his interest was undeniably piqued. "What's your combat effectiveness?"
"Ninety-six percent success rate. And I always get my kills."
Ikharos tilted his head. "Got a bit of personality in you?"
"I learn."
"Looks like another Arcite," Xiān noted. She looked back at Ikharos. "Let's keep him."
Ikharos cleared his throat. "Kida? I'm looking for armaments and supplies for fieldwork. Any idea where I can find some?"
The Frame nodded and pointed to a corridor to the side. A handful of crates scuttled in on insectoid legs, plopping down by his feet and opening up.
Ikharos glanced inside one. "That'll do it." He pulled out the sniper rifle and loaded it with a fresh magazine. It was outfitted with a Smart-Scope, tracking whatever he pointed at and feeding him relevant info - such as how durable the distant plasteel wall was. Helpful, that.
Xiān grabbed all the good stuff and left him with a couple of choice portions. Ikharos still carried the sheathed sword and the mechanical quiver, along with the folded compound bow, on his back - all attached to his armour via inbuilt magnets. He kept his Lumina in its holster by his side; he'd long since learned to have a firearm within easy reach, no matter the scenario. His knife was hidden away in a sheath on his boot. He decided to hold onto the sniper rifle.
"Pack up a couple of restraint spiders," he ordered of the Frame. The robot complied. "I expect we might see combat in due time. How's your tactical analysis?" He asked.
"Experienced. My heuristic programming has been rewritten a total of fourteen point six times."
"Where's the point six coming from?"
"I am currently acclimating my tactical analysis to your own methods of combat and demolition."
"My methods? Scipio recorded me, did he?"
"Affirmative. I admire how you handled the Urgals - homo polemistí̱s specimens - upon landfall. It is an honour to operate under the command of a trained soldier like yourself."
"For a machine, that's high praise," Xiān said. "We look forward to working with you, Kida."
The Frame looked at the Ghost. "Question: what is the function of unidentified drone?"
"Oh, I just... Drone?!" Xiān suddenly exclaimed. Her eye flashed angrily.
Ikharos waved the question aside. "Don't worry about it."
"Function: Don't worry about it. I understand." A curious lilt entered the Frame's bland voice. It sounded like amusement. Hollow, simulated amusement, but amusement all the same. It was uncomfortable.
"Called me a drone... the bastard." Xiān sulked and swiveled about, apparently done with the entire conversation.
"So you're coming with us?" Ikharos looked into a second crate. It held orderly piles of packeted rations. Xiān wordlessly transmatted it away, mentally grumbling. The third crate had survival equipment, including specialized tents capable of masking heat signatures and insulating those inside from the most extreme of conditions. Scipio was a handy ally to have, but the gifts didn't make Ikharos trust him any further. Warminds were too ruthless for blind faith. Acts of generosity weighed next to nothing with them. This wasn't a helping hand Scipio had offered; this was an investment.
"Affirmative."
"Kida, some of the targets I've designated will disobey the laws of physics. Your heuristics are going to fail where they're concerned. Whatever I say goes, understand?"
"Yes sir."
"Alright," Ikharos nodded. He heard footsteps and turned to find Formora arriving. "Good, you didn't get lost. Scipio's offered us a whole lot of... what's wrong?"
Her face was pale with fright. She walked next to him and said, in a quiet voice, "He's a god."
Ikharos understood straight away. "Are you alright?"
"He's a god. But gods don't exist. They're just stories made up by dwarves and humans. Just stories." She looked all around them. "This is real."
"It is," Ikharos said carefully.
"Gods don't exist. And I've seen two." Her eyes searched Ikharos' own. "Are you a god?"
"No," he protested immediately. Something like horror bloomed deep within. "No, no way."
"You're not human."
Ikharos froze. His next words were spoken slowly. "I used to be. Then I died."
"What are you now?" She inquired, voice unsteady. "You're immortal."
"I'm a godslayer. I kill whatever new threat rears its ugly head before it can wipe out humanity." He paused. "What's brought this on?"
"I looked at his mind." Formora shivered. "It's open. Unguarded. And no one, not even Galbatorix, would be powerful enough to conquer it."
"What did you see?" Ikharos pressed.
"Numbers. Just numbers. So many numbers. It carries on forever."
He nodded. "That's his programming. The equation for sapience."
"Can we leave?" Formora whispered. "I don't like this place any more than the city."
"You're coming with me, then? You want to hunt Shades?"
She assumed a hard look. Her previous uncertainty melted away, replaced by cold, purposeful rage. At least it wasn't pointed at him. "I want to kill Galbatorix. You're offering a chance for just that. Of course I'm joining you."
"Here." Ikharos handed her the sniper rifle. "You need something more than just a sidearm. Still got that?"
Formora drew the pistol. Ikharos took it and reloaded it for her. The 18-Kelvins was a common weapon during the Golden Age, and Scipio had supplied the exact ammunition it needed. He handed it back.
"There," he said. "Now you're armed. But even the best of weapons are useless if you're dead. Have anything to protect you? A shield and helmet aren't going to cut it."
"I have armour," Formora said hesitantly. "It's back on the ship."
"What's it made of?"
"Steel."
Ikharos shook his head. "Not going to work. Steel is too weak. It won't block a bullet. Or a Rider's sword, for that matter."
"It's warded."
"Then start warding this." He pulled out a piece of body armour from the fourth and last crate. It looked like a pauldron, but it could just have well been a knee pad. "Bulletproof and fireproof. Mostly. Don't try to test that theory."
"What is it?" She sounded tired. Ikharos felt a spike of sympathy.
"Kevlar and plasteel. Damage resistant materials. Lightweight too. Miles better than steel."
"I'll take it."
"Thought you might."
"Are we headed to Alagaësia then?"
"We are. Along with Kida here."
Formora half-heartedly glared at the Frame. "It might betray us."
"It can't. Kida's one of Scipio's last Frames. Not the Submind's, Scipio's."
"What use will it be in any case?"
Ikharos crossed his arms. "You've seen what Frames are capable of. Do you really need to ask that question?"
She scowled. "I don't trust it."
"Then trust me. This is my judgement. If it doesn't work out, you get to say 'I told you so.'"
Formora looked back at him very quickly, fixing him with an indecipherable gaze. An uncomfortable silence passed before she said, "So be it."
He felt like he'd said something wrong. Ikharos suddenly wasn't sure what to make of... well, whatever they were. They weren't enemies. He was adamant about that. They spoke civily to one another, they worked together, but he still didn't truly understand Formora.
And he felt a tad guilty about... well.
He sighed and turned to Kida. "We have a ship above, up with the dolphins. Can you swim?"
"I have emergency buoyancy devices," the Frame told him. "I will float."
Sailing back to Alagaësia was a far more arduous undertaking than traveling to the Grey City. The weather worked against them: waves tossed them about, wild winds snatched at their sails and tugged them around, and Ikharos even had to ward away lightning from a sudden storm that threatened to rip their ship apart and exile their remains to the depths of the sea. Kida was an invaluable help in that time, taking the oars and tirelessly paddling them onwards. The assistance of the dolphins was crucial, too. A pod - led by the hybrid - guided them safely through the perils of the open waters. Unfortunately, they came to a point where the dolphins had to leave as their feeding grounds were back to the west of Vroengard. Ikharos and Xiān thanked them profusely. They watched in silence as the dolphins chirped their last farewells and swam off with incredible speed, diving back into their ocean world.
The going got tougher after that. Ikharos decided that while sailing was fun, he wasn't going to make a habit out of it. Constantly stumbling about as the vessel tackled yet another series of churning waves was unbecoming of a professional Guardian.
A Nïdhwal once surfaced nearby and looked them over with a massive reptilian eye, but it was smarter than the others Ikharos had previously encountered and decided they were too much trouble. The great predator sank beneath the broiling waters and left the ship be. The sighting caused Formora and Ikharos no end of stress, and they commonly glanced at their surroundings to ensure that the beast hadn't returned, even days later.
After one miserable night where the rain had consistently pummeled them, Ikharos said aloud, "If only we could have just flown this."
"The journey is much easier on dragonback," Formora agreed. Sort of. It hadn't been exactly what he meant, but it amounted to the same thing.
A sudden curiosity struck him. "What was your... dragon's name?" He asked. Ikharos didn't trust the whole tamed-dragons idea, but Formora had made her own stance clear. He really just wanted to get a pleasant conversation going. The tense silences were grating on his nerves.
Formora scowled. "It was torn from her."
And there went the pleasant conversation. Ikharos cursed under his breath. "Ah... torn?"
"Removed. Through magic."
Ikharos was perplexed. "Why not just get a new name?"
Formora tiredly glared at him. "Not given name. True name."
"And... what's a true name?"
"A collection of words in the ancient language that surmise a beings entire existence."
"That's..." Ikharos trailed off. He had been about to say it was impossible, but the ancient language was a malleable thing. He had only begun to discover all the possibilities it could offer a skilled practitioner. "A true name is all that defines someone as who they are?"
"It is."
"And if taken away..."
Formora breathed raggedly. "They called it Du Namar Aurboda. The Banishing of Names. The dragons realized that thirteen of their own - those of the Forsworn - betrayed their kind in helping Galbatorix hunting their own kin. They gathered their magic as one and stripped all the being and individuality of the thirteen. They had not the capacity to describe themselves. They were turned into beasts. Less than beasts. Just... things."
"I'm... sorry for asking." He said hesitantly, and didn't press any further.
Formora brushed his condolences aside. "It was a long time ago. Go on, ask your questions. You have humoured mine for long enough already."
"Right... How does one find their true name?"
"Study, self-realization, looking back upon the past. It is no simple matter, and the methods for each person differ."
"Do you know your true name?"
She gave a quick, mirthless laugh. "That is not a question you should ask anyone. But yes, I do. I forced myself to change it some time ago to escape Galbatorix's control. It was not an easy thing, to come to terms with what I am. Everyone is always disappointed when they learn who they truly are."
"I'll bet," Ikharos muttered. He didn't have a large enough vocabulary in the ancient language to attempt it yet. Perhaps in time. Or perhaps not. He didn't know if he even wanted to. Ignorance may well have been bliss. "Is there any use in knowing one's true name?"
"Understanding yourself. Beyond that, not much - save for protecting it from the grasp of others, of course."
Ikharos frowned. "If people know your true name-"
"-then they can control your every action if they so wish," Formora finished. She stood and unfurled the sails; the wind was at their backs.
"So that's how Galbatorix..."
"It is."
Ikharos didn't know what to say next. He was hopeless in delicate situations like this. Thankfully, his Ghost swooped in to save his hide. Xiān appeared and began to quietly play soothing pre-Golden Age music, humming along to the gentle tune. Kida glanced at the drone, then returned to his perch by the front of the ship with his rifle in hand, watching for Nïdhwal.
Formora perked up and listened in closely. Finally, she asked, "What is that?"
"Dunno," Xiān gave her best impression of a shrug. "Found it in an abandoned ruin back on Earth. You never know what you might find in those places. You like it?"
Ikharos smiled and idly listened in as they began to discuss music, listing and comparing the types of songs they enjoyed.
They made landfall soon after. Formora identified the landscape as the northern reaches of Alagaësia. Ikharos figured they weren't far from where his Galliot had crashed. Pity that. It had been a fine vessel. They left the sailboat at the beach for anyone to find. Now that they had arrived, they hadn't any need of it. The three of them delved into a copse by the shore and made camp. Ikharos readied a meal using the preserved goods supplied by the Warmind and provided a small meal of rice with a spicy paprika sauce and slices of chicken.
Formora turned it away immediately, just as he began to offer her some. "I cannot eat that."
Ikharos rolled his eyes. "It's fine. Look." He ate a forkful. It didn't taste near as great as the fresh kind, but for something preserved for thousands of years, it was remarkably bearable.
The elf wasn't impressed. "I won't eat meat."
"You're vegan?" He asked, curious.
"Vegan?"
"Won't eat animal produce."
Formora nodded. "Then yes, I am."
"Well, you could have told me beforehand."
"I didn't know what you were making."
"Food." He sighed. "It's up to yourself. But, uh... why?"
"Because I can't eat something when I know how it thought. How it felt."
"I'm missing something here. Why would you know how it thought?"
Formora looked surprised. "By exploring their minds with my own, of course."
Ikharos stared, then groaned. "This is stupid. All this power… Who monitors it all?"
"No one."
"That's stupid. Anyone with a hint of magic could cause serious damage to countless others and there wouldn't be anything people without magic could do." He angrily shoved a forkful into his mouth, which was admittedly not very angry at all.
"That's what I thought. It's why I wanted change in the Order," Formora said bitterly. "Most Riders flaunted their power and had what they wanted. The elders just stood aside and did nothing, comfortable in their lax lives of inaction. It was flawed at the core. We had the chance to change the world for the better and the Riders squandered it. I regret a lot of things, but some of them deserved what they got."
Ikharos leaned back against a tree and decided to let go and enjoy his meal. It looked like he'd be the only one. "Have you anything else?" He asked, suddenly exhausted.
Formora wordlessly reached into her packs and withdrew a handful of seeds. She scooped out a clump of earth and deposited the seeds inside, then covered it over again. Ikharos watched with detached amusement. "That's going to take some time," he noted.
She ignored him and began singing. It was slow-paced and little more than a whisper at first, but her voice steadily grew in volume. Kida - who had been assigned to watch duty - even turned about to regard the elf curiously. Ikharos couldn't help but admit it sounded hauntingly beautiful. She was using the ancient language, weaving together a spell with knowledge and music. He could feel the fluctuating power of the spell on his skin, potent and strange.
Soon little shoots sprouted from the soil, unfurling and growing faster than plants had any right to. Within mere minutes, little bushes heavy with an assortment of ripe berries had formed. Formora ceased her singing and began picking fruit by the handful. Ikharos was sad to hear it end.
"What was that?" He asked softly. He felt Xiān land between his neck and shoulder, nestling in. Her shell exuded a soft familiar warmth that belied her metallic form.
"Singing," Formora deadpanned.
"I got that part. But how did you..." He pointed to the bushes.
"I used the ancient language to command the plants to grow. It's no different than any other spell, just."
"It was nice," Ikharos commented.
Formora looked at him, surprised. "Thank you."
They ate in silence. When supper was finished, Ikharos used the Void to clean the pots and utensils. Formora raised a subject he hadn't truly considered, saying, "Where do we begin?"
Ah yes. That. Ikharos let go of the ravenous unrealities that picked apart every speck of food from the pot he held and looked up, trying to differentiate the stars from the Warsats. "I'm not sure. Last time I just roamed about until I could pick up on the Darkness exuded by the Shade, but it took too much time for my liking. It would be easier if we had a jumpship... again, I'm not sure. I want to kill the Shade for certain this time around, and quickly, before it razes another city."
"He razed a city?"
"Kuasta."
"Most certainly Durza, in that case," Formora told him. "Kuasta was never sympathetic to Galbatorix's empire."
"The Shade marched in with an army of Urgals. They killed almost everyone."
"Urgals?" Formora asked.
"Yes," Ikharos confirmed.
"Why would the king... More slaves to his will, I suppose. I doubt he intends anything other than sending them to die against his enemies." She nodded to herself. "This might be to our advantage. They would be easier to track."
"The Shade made it difficult. He was smart. Split up his army when everyone in Kuasta was killed. The king must not want it to be common knowledge."
"Of course not. Urgals are considered by humans and dwarves to be the most vile of all creatures. It would spread further dissent. But you're right, Durza's too sly and Alagaësia too vast. We might not find them for years."
"I don't like that. We could just nip the issue in the bud and go for Galbatorix. It would bring the Shade running to us. Or down to ground, don't know which."
"No," Formora shook her head. "Galbatorix is too powerful, even for you. You are more than his match physically, but he has traps laid all around him, devoted servants ready to die for him, a massive army awaiting his command, and countless Eldunarí twisted to his will, to supply him with power and knowledge. He might not destroy you outright, but he would certainly cripple you long enough to take control of your mind. Even your defenses cannot guard against the combined mental power of a hundred dragons, all under the king's control."
"Maybe I can pick him off at range," Ikharos ventured. The idea of fighting a hundred Ahamkara - or whatever they were - at once did not appeal to him.
"He has a fortress with innumerable walls and wards. It is too well protected."
"So you're saying we can't kill Galbatorix?" He crossed his arms. "Then I won't be able to strike at the Darkness here."
"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that we need power to challenge him. We need to pick away at his supports, leave him stranded and isolated. Then we can work on defeating him. I want him dead more than anything else, but I know it would be foolish to march straight into his castle ill-prepared."
"What do you think we should do?"
"Allies would be helpful, though I don't foresee anyone rising up to fight the empire. The kingdom of Surda only seeks to avoid Galbatorix's attention. The elves and dwarves have hidden themselves away. The Urgals are under the king's thrall. There is no one."
"What about the Varden?" Ikharos asked. He remembered Tellesa and Rendan speaking of the movement. It hadn't been solely confined to Kuasta's region, according to them.
Formora shook her head. "Disorganized, too few in number, and without the leadership bold enough to openly challenge the king," she argued.
"Are you sure about that? The rebels in Kuasta achieved a lot when I was with them."
"And how did that work out for them?"
"It was my fault. I hadn't anticipated the presence of anything even resembling a Shade. Or such a quick response to the rebellion. I won't make that mistake again," he promised.
Formora exhaled. "They won't just accept you or your methods. A foreign mage is not someone they would immediately trust, nor would they change their entire approach to rebellion based only on your suggestions."
"I can be convincing."
"No you can't," Xiān criticized.
Ikharos scowled. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I'm supposed to keep you from making mistakes. You don't have charm. Trust me on that."
He sighed. "So where does that leave us?"
"We need to focus on Durza," Formora told him. "He's the king's most powerful servant, with the rest of the Forsworn dead. Cut him away and Galbatorix will be nervous. He won't have a Shade under his command. And, if it becomes common knowledge, it might spur on others."
"So kill a Shade and become an inspiration. Got it. Still one big problem: how are we supposed to find the bastard?" Ikharos sat up straight. "Do you know of any places he visits on a regular to semi-regular basis?"
"No." Formora shook her head. "I kept away from Durza."
"Psekisk. Then we're supposed to hope he's still in the field?"
"I doubt he would go beyond the empire's borders."
"Still a large area to cover. And dangerous too. Empire knows a little about me. They'll be on the lookout."
"They most certainly know who I am," Formora smiled. "Though I think you and I can manage to evade capture easily enough."
He'd give her that. "I'm not happy with this. But it looks like all we have. I'd rather have a more concrete plan."
Formora asked, "When you encountered Durza, where did you fight him?"
"Kuasta. But I, with a couple of survivors of the slaughter, tracked him near Ceunon. It was a few months back." He nodded. "Oh, yeah. Trail might be cold, but I suppose a creature like that is bound to have made an impression."
"Agreed. We can start there." She looked him over. "Will you need a horse?"
"I don't think... What do you mean me?" Ikharos gave her a funny look. "What about you?"
"I'm an elf," she pointed out, as if that explained everything. When he still held a puzzled expression, she relented. "I have no need of a steed. I can run."
"Running's too slow for my liking. I've got a Sparrow..." He made a head count. "Which is useless. Too many of us."
"Sparrow?" Formora frowned. "What does a bird have to do with this?"
"Not a bird. A hoverbike. Sparrow. They're a means of transport across all terrain. Machines. Like... like a jumpship, but landlocked." He hesitated. "Most of the time."
"Most of the time?" Formora raised an eyebrow.
Ikharos gave a reluctant grin. "Some situations call for unorthodox maneuvers. Pity we don't have more than one."
"How many can a Sparrow carry?"
"One. Two is pushing the limit. Three would result in a crash."
"Let's leave the Frame," Formora advised.
Ikharos glanced over to Kida, who was most certainly listening in, and found the robot gazing across the wide meadows and fields. "I don't want to do that. We need the extra gun."
"I don't like having it near us."
"I don't trust Scipio any more than you do, yet we need his help. Even if that help is a single Frame."
Formora grimaced. "There are two gods in this world. We have to align with one to defeat the other."
"You've nailed it on the head."
"Gods..." She shook her head. "This isn't how the world should work."
"I'm afraid it is. The universe is a scary place. Now more than ever."
A minute passed. Then Formora spoke up, saying, "Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"Are there gods on your world too?"
Ikharos nodded. "Yeah."
"And are they as heartless as the ones here?"
"That's a complex and dangerous question." Ikharos shrugged. "But to answer it, I don't know."
She looked at him sharply. "You don't know?"
"The Traveler is my patron. It's the only reason I'm alive. It came to humanity and gave us all we wanted. It's easy to see it as good. But it also led the other gods, those of the Hive and the Darkness proper, to crash against our borders."
"Do you believe it is good?"
"I believe in the gun in my hand," he drew the Lumina, "And the Ghost at my side. That's enough. The rest is subject to change and that's fine by me. It's easier that way."
Formora frowned. "You don't want to know whether your god is good?"
"I honestly don't care. I admire the Traveler, I'll say that, and I feel an attachment to it. But I'm a Guardian. I prioritize the safety of my people before that of a silent orb in the sky. And I don't trust the Traveler's intentions. I don't even trust victory on its terms, if we ever do defeat the Darkness."
"You don't trust victory?"
Ikharos looked at Xiān. "We have so many questions when we first rise. We find so many more when we see our first aliens. Our first jumpship. Our first home. But no one has asked this: what happens when it's over? The Traveler will leave us, I know that, but what will happen to the Ghosts? To the Risen? I don't think I'll like the answer."
"Then why do you fight?"
"Because humanity is worth fighting for. If I die - a true death mind you - then I want this galaxy to be healthy and vibrant. Not the dead thing the Hive want. Not the end the Cabal Emperor lusts after. I want it to be alive. Far-fetched, I know, and unlikely to happen."
"But you still fight."
"I've got to do something with all my lives. Why not help people?" He breathed deeply. "To answer your earlier question: no, we won't need horses. They'd tire before I would. I'm assuming the same for you?"
"You assume correctly," Formora dipped her head. "Our best chance lies in gathering information, either discreetly or brazenly - it matters not."
"There's a village near here," Ikharos stated. "I'd like to pass through, see how they're doing. It's called Doramb, if I remember."
"Got it in one," Xiān muttered.
Ikharos ignored her. "They're fairly isolated, but news could have trickled in. We'd only have to make a short stop."
"I won't object," Formora replied.
"Then it's a plan."
000
It took the Risen some time to retrace his steps, but he caught on quickly. Formora wordlessly followed, silently relieved to be back on the mainland. The air was fresher, the plants more flushed with health, and the animals bore no signs of sickness that their relatives on Vroengard did.
She was home.
It was only fitting that her first introduction to civilization in decades was a scorched crater and a collection of ruins. She could smell the acrid scent of burnt stone and cold bitter smoke some time before she saw the remains of Doramb, but she didn't know what it meant. It wasn't like any other raid she ever encountered - or dealt out herself. The houses were torn apart into rubble, the wood had been burnt away, and the ground was littered with particles of purple crystal that felt like ash. Nothing living remained. Even the insects stayed away.
"What happened here?" Formora asked aloud.
She saw Ikharos's fists tighten. "Monsters."
"This... this is Void," she realized. Her eyes darted back to the Risen. "Like yours."
"Do you really think I would do this?" He snapped, pointing to the carnage.
She distinctly recalled the terror posed by the Risen when he gave chase to her and Enduriel, and she almost said yes. His reaction, though, gave her pause. "If not you, then who?"
Ikharos paused, then said in a dark tone, "Something belonging to Nezarec." He knelt down and scooped up a handful of crystals. "This is the work of military-grade weaponry, not direct Light or Dark. My money's on the Submind's systems. This has all the hallmarks of an AI's cruelty..."
"How can you tell?"
"No survivors." The Risen's attention was torn away and he ran to the crystalized foundations of a farmhouse. Formora heard him mutter terrible things under his breath
"What's wrong?" Formora questioned when she caught up. She noted that the Frame brought up the rear with its weapon drawn. Her hand drifted to the projectile weapon at her hip; she didn't trust it to not turn on them. It looked too similar to the constructs they destroyed in the colourless city.
"I knew the people here," Ikharos lamented in a sad, quiet voice. "I saved them from Urgals. But... dammit."
She stood beside him and tried to picture it. "They lived longer because of you."
"The Urgals were sloppy. The village might have prevailed. Some of them could have lived to see another day. But with this... they didn't stand a chance."
Formora dipped her head. "There's nothing we can do here." And nothing of use for us.
Ikharos took a long moment to pay his last respects. When he turned, his breath was slow and controlled. He'd mastered his fury, but hadn't banished it. She didn't envy the perpetrators of the raid; the Risen's ire was nothing to laugh at.
"Come," Formora told him softly. "Let us get as far from here as we can."
They traveled for days at a time in their eastward heading. They needed little rest and food in that time, going solely on water and the odd wild berries. They avoided visiting other villages after that, circumventing other settlements entirely. The destruction at Doramb had been a jarring experience. Neither had the energy to smile and disguise themselves as travelers just passing through. Perhaps they would at Ceunon, but not before. They needed time.
Ikharos was as much at ease with traveling in the wilds as she was. It was unnerving that one who could exhibit such a violent nature in times of conflict could be so peaceful when wandering through the untamed forests of the Spine. It went to show how complex the world truly was; what laid on the surface was usually in no way related to that lurking beneath. He was a warrior whose equals were few to none, but she hadn't had many occasions to connect with the scholar resting behind the armour - though that soon changed. When provoked into conversation, Ikharos revealed himself to be highly insightful in a wide range of matters. On a number of occasions she found herself drawn into conversations on culture, philosophy, and literature, and discovered that she relished those few occurrences.
That said, a muted despondency overcame the man after they left Doramb behind. He talked little in the time that passed, though Formora figured he still regularly communicated with his spirit, Xiān. Their relationship was a strange one. They understood one another without even speaking, which led her to believe they had a natural and continuous mental connection with which they could freely share messages, thoughts, and feelings. Not dissimilar to the bond between Rider and dragon. The reminder hurt. She wished she had it still. A ragged wound, badly healed, had been left in her mind when her dragon had been ripped away - twice. Once when her personality was destroyed, once when the pitiful beast that remained had perished. Formora doubted she would ever get past that. She had long since decided to revisit that pain unto Galbatorix tenfold.
The fourth member of their party, the Frame named Kida, was just as silent as the Risen. It moved and worked like a person, but each movement was hollow. When it spoke, it sounded like a husk of a being, with only the barest hints of individuality. It was a monster in her eyes. A soulless thing with no heart, no redeeming qualities. She avoided it as best she could.
Their group marched on in near-quiet for a while. They'd left the Spine behind at some point and now traveled along the North Sea. Ceunon lay not far ahead, only a day or so more at their pace. It had been a simple uneventful day like any other when Xiān spoke up with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "I hear something!"
Formora looked about and strained her hearing, but she couldn't discern anything other than the chirps of birds or the creak of swaying trees. The spirit was a sharp little thing, but Formora didn't think that Xiān's sense of hearing could match that of an elf.
It soon became clear that hearing wasn't what the spirit - the Ghost - meant.
"What is it?" Ikharos asked, his tone hushed.
"Tachyon-particle communicator. Encrypted. Looks like..." Xiān trailed off.
"Like what?"
"Like a Cabal BattleNet."
Formora didn't know what it meant, but it had a significant impact on her companion.
"Psekisk!" Ikharos swore explosively. Formora distantly wondered what the foreign word meant. "How?!"
"I don't know!"
"Are you sure it's them?"
"It's the exact same as those used by the Sand Eaters and Skyburners."
"If the Cabal are here, then... wait." The Risen twirled around to face Kida. "Is Scipio still up?"
"Affirmative." The Frame nodded.
"So they haven't destroyed him..." Ikharos looked up into the open sky. "They could have a fleet up there, readying for an invasion. And there wouldn't be anything we could do. Kida, can you speak with Scipio?"
"Affirmative."
"He needs to strike them down before they can land."
"Negative."
Ikharos twirled around. "What?!"
"Negative. There is no fleet."
"Then how are we picking up on their comms?" He demanded.
Kida didn't move an inch. "Two vessels bearing occupants of unknown extrasolar species - hypothesized to be major frigate-class warships - were disabled in orbit. Vessels plummeted into gravity well of Kepler-186f. Organisms on board vessels exercised numerous efforts to survive the descent. AI Command Scipio disallows communications beyond Kepler-186f."
"Two vessels? What does it mean?" Formora asked.
Ikharos seethed. "He means that Scipio brought down other ships, and just like me, they fell. It looks like some survived."
"And these are... Cabal?"
"Yeah. They're good at war. They might have arrived intending on annexing this planet." Ikharos turned to Xiān. "Can you crack the encryption?"
"No. I'll need to hack into their BattleNet proper. We'd need a comms unit. Even a field radio would work."
Ikharos inclined his head. "We might be able to do it. Can you trace the signal?"
"Yes. Just give me a few... Got it."
"Which way?"
"East..." Xiān mumbled. She spoke up, saying, "Yeah, east. Near Ceunon. There's a lot of activity that way."
Ikharos crouched and began checking that his weapons were loaded. "Why didn't he tell us?!" He angrily muttered. "He brought them down and conveniently forgot to inform us? Kida, why didn't he tell us?"
"Irrelevant to mission," the Frame answered bluntly.
"Irrele-" An edge of panic bled into his words. "It's not irrelevant! The Cabal are never irrelevant! They're a war machine! With the right numbers, they'll take over this continent, and then the entire world!"
Formora knelt beside him. "Are they truly that dangerous?"
Ikharos shook his head. "Cabal are nothing if not that. Smart, when they want to be. Bigger and stronger and far more advanced than anything already here."
"Can there be that many of them?" Formora asked, mind whirling. Conquer all of Alagaësia? A ridiculous notion. The Dragon Riders at the height of their power would have struggled to hold half the continent.
"Depends on whether Scipio brought down warships or carriers."
"What's the difference?"
"Carriers hold a helluva lot more soldiers. And weapons. They're behemoths, utter juggernauts of steel and brawn. Even at a fall like that... it might have survived."
"How large is it?"
"As large as Teirm's inner city."
Formora's breath caught in her throat. "Nothing that size can fly."
"If we're lucky, it won't fly anymore," Ikharos grunted. "We need to reach them."
"And then what?"
"Evaluate the threat. Deal with it however we can. Right now, they're more dangerous than any Shade. They'll rip through whatever resistance the locals put up."
They sounded like monsters. "Why are they so dangerous?"
Ikharos tapped his Lumina. "They have weapons like this. Only bigger."
That was... worrying. A host of common soldiers armed with those weapons would have been unstoppable. Not even the elves would be able to defeat them. "How can we fight that?"
"We'll find a way. Cabal always outnumbered my kind, but we routed them again and again. They're overconfident. We can use that against them. But first we need one of their radios."
"And then I have to play with the Psions," Xiān added. "Not looking forward to that."
Neither was Formora, and she had no idea what a Psion was. "Do we have to fight them? Can't we negotiate?"
Ikharos snorted. "Cabal aren't the type to talk. They aren't even the type to hit things first and ask questions later. They'll hit first, yes, and then hit some more. Again and again until everything else is either dead or in chains."
They ran fast and without rest for many leagues. Ikharos easily kept pace and the Frame was never far behind. Formora was struck by the idea that her people would be just as formidable if they tossed aside their pretentious ways. They hid in forests when they could have been using their gifts to fix the problems of the flawed world. They were just as bad as the Riders - guilty by inaction. But now, with Galbatorix threatening them if they so much as took a single step outside Du Weldenvarden, they had an excuse to be cowards.
Maybe the Cabal would change that.
"They have one tactic: advance," Ikharos explained. At her behest he had begun instructing her on all he knew of the foreign army. "Simple, but effective. If they aren't advancing, they're sitting in their bunkers and weathering whatever assault the enemy throws at them. In the field they're the most powerful force you'd ever encounter, but they fail to conform to unconventional warfare. Guerilla tactics - which my people use - works wonders against their formations."
"So my people stand a chance against them?"
"Not in the slightest. Cabal have communication systems using tachyon particles as a transmission medium. It allows them to relay information over large distances in an instant. Different Cabal groups will conform to confront whatever foe they face all at once. They're linked by a BattleNet operated by Psions, which means that their strategies can change on a whim. They don't need to stick to a predetermined plan - their orders can and will change based on the calculations of proven strategists in heavily-protected strongholds. Their soldiers have sensors in their helmets which feed them thermal and night vision images, so they'd pick out an elf at once and shoot them down. If that wasn't enough, their Psions are masters of paracausality. The Flayers - the most powerful of the Psions - throw their minds about like hammers. Little escapes their attention."
Formora frowned. "Then how do we get past them? Open battle?"
"Goodness no. They're formidable in a fight. Your armour and mine are adapted to avoiding attention. The plasteel masks our body heat and the jamming devices worked into the plating frazzle automatic targeting systems. If you want to slip past them, be quick and quiet. We don't have cloaking devices, only the Void." He stopped. "If we get separated, do what you can to escape detection. Cabal can be fooled. Watch for Psions, though; they're smaller - our height - and have a single eye. Whatever you do, don't engage their minds. They're too powerful. It might be best if you stayed back. The Cabal aren't like anything you've faced."
"You'll go alone?"
"I've done this before, I can do it ag-"
Something big flew over them, roaring like a dragon. The force of it sweeping above bent the trees at unnatural angles.
"Down!" Ikharos hissed. Formora and Kida rushed to comply. A minute passed. Then he said, "That was a Harvester."
"Harvester?" Formora asked. "What is it, some kind of hunting beast?"
"No. Dropship. They ferry troops." Ikharos drew and unfolded his bow. "Is Ceunon close by?"
"I think so."
Ikharos glanced at her. "I'll scout ahead. Double back with Kida and find a place to hide. I won't be long."
She trekked through the forest looking over her back, but they hadn't been followed. Kida was nearly noiseless save for the soft whisper as his metal legs brushed against the undergrowth. They heard and saw nothing else that might have signified Cabal or Ikharos.
Eventually, Formora found a large, ancient, worn rock covered in moss with a hollow sizable enough for five men. The surrounding trees covered it well, and it was obscured from whatever roamed the skies. The Harvester had been an alarming revelation. She knew from experience how powerful control of the air was. It had been that which helped the Riders exude such a strong presence across all of Alagaësia. If the Cabal possessed even a fraction of that strength...
It was worrying.
To pass the time, she drew Vaeta and polished the oak-coloured blade with a clean rag. The metal glinted even in the low light of dusk. Formora wondered how Rhunön fared. Did she still forge blades out of brightsteel? Or had she turned her focus to other habits, now that her past clients were dead and gone?
Kida settled by the entrance with his rifle in hand. He never didn't have it at the ready. It picked at her nerves, a Frame being so close. She'd seen what they were capable of. Formora doubted she would ever forget the sight of hundreds of screaming metal constructs shambling and crawling towards her, clearly intent on tearing her apart with their bare hands. No matter how many she'd killed, they hadn't been deterred in the slightest.
She finally snapped after hours of waiting. Her patience could only hold out so long. "Why don't you talk?"
Kida's featureless head swiveled to stare at her. "I do," he said at length.
"No, you don't. You only ever speak when spoken to."
"There is no need for me to speak. I am a machine."
Formora set her jaw. She moved onto a more worrying topic. "Why didn't you tell us about the Cabal?"
"It is irrelevant."
"I thought Scipio wanted to protect people?"
"AI Command Scipio's highest priority is to ensure humanity's survival."
"Are the Cabal not a threat to that?" Formora pointed out.
Kida didn't speak for a few seconds. "Irrelevant."
"How are they irrelevant?"
"Cabal do not threaten humanity's survival."
"If they're here to conquer, then they very much-"
"Objection: significant loss of human life does not equate to extinction of human species."
"Wh... what do you mean?" Formora pressed. She stopped polishing and stared right back at the thing's dead crystal eye.
Kida's head tilted. It made her nervous. "Loss of significant human life falls within acceptable parameters, as the human species is not threatened with extinction. AI Command Scipio places survival of human species above all else. Every action furthers that end."
A cold sweat broke out across her brow. "That's not... that's not right! You should be helping-"
The waning light pouring in through the entrance was suddenly blotted by the arrival of a humanoid figure. Formora half rose, ready to take the fight to the intruder, but it was only Ikharos who stepped inside. He held Orúm in one hand, the sword dark with what she assumed to be blood, and what appeared to be a massive helmet in the other.
"Welcome back, sir." Kida saluted. Ikharos dipped his head and strode in, dropping the helmet in the centre of the floor. It appeared to be of a blood-red and forest-green colouring over sturdy metal plating. Ikharos's own helm was removed by his Ghost in a small flash of light.
"How did you find us?" Formora asked.
Ikharos gave her an amused look. "I've tracked Devils through the catacombs of Paris. You're significantly easier to find."
"Should we move?" She asked, worried.
"No. Cabal are smart, but they aren't natural born hunters. They're herd animals, if anything. They won't pick up on our scent for some time."
"What about..." She pointed to the helmet. It was hard to imagine anything big enough to fit in it. Even the tallest of Kull wouldn't comfortably wear it, their horns notwithstanding.
Ikharos shrugged. "They'll discover that later. Xiān had to trick the Battlenet into thinking he's still on patrol, rather than dead in a ditch." He crouched down beside it. "This is our ticket into their encrypted messages."
"Are the Cabal near Ceunon?"
"They're in Ceunon," Ikharos corrected. "Seems they've taken the city. Saw a bunch of movement inside - looks like they haven't started killing civilians just yet. Ships are moving between the city and across the fjord."
"Why?"
"I'm assuming it's where their ship crashed. Lotta salvage. Good equipment. And the fuel tanks would be there, still full of black gel."
"Black gel?" Formora questioned. She wasn't all that fond of how clueless she was where foreign forces were concerned.
"An oil. It's as valuable as Glimmer to them. Used to fuel their machines, heal their wounds, and power their pressurized armour."
"Why would their armour be pressurized?"
"Cabal will go anywhere to conquer. They can breathe our air and survive our worlds, but they're just as likely to visit the most inhospitable places in the galaxy. Scorching deserts or frozen rocks, they're prepared for it all." He kicked the helmet. "This was a Legionary. Average-sized Uluru, rank-and-file soldier. I don't recognize the colours. It's a different legion than the kinds I'm used to. Older armour too. Not Red Legion, that's for sure."
"You've been fighting them a long time," Formora observed.
"I have. Looks like I will again."
"Will there many?"
"Not an entire legion's worth. Maybe a cohort or two? Depends on the carrier."
"How many would that be?"
"Two to three thousand. More or less, but it's hard to tell."
As an army, it was not the largest in Alagaësia, but outfitted with guns and flying ships... "That's too many."
"Agreed," Ikharos said grimly.
"Do you have a plan?"
"I'm working on..." He held up a finger for silence. Ikharos half-turned to face the entrance. Formora strained her ears. Yes, she could hear something. An odd crackling noise... and careful footfalls from somewhere nearby.
Ikharos brought the finger to his lips and moved to the entrance. Before he even left, he disappeared from sight. It appeared as if the shadows had moved to obscure him from view. She didn't see any further sign of him. Mere moments later she heard a surprised inhuman yelp, a strangled bark, the screech of metal against metal, and finally silence. Formora brought out her own gun - the smaller sidearm - alongside her sword and crept forward.
"Come out," Ikharos called out calmly. "I've got it."
She and Kida rushed out of the hollow with weapons primed, but they found Ikharos safe and unharmed. He had a boot placed on the chest of an armoured creature - the likes of which she'd never seen before. It hissed and would have likely fought back if not for the sword tip held against its throat. It wore complex armour and an object resembling a rifle rested not far from where it laid. It possessed four long arms, each ending in claws, and two powerful legs. Four glowing blue eyes glared up at Ikharos through its strange helmet, motionless for fear of its life. It was large enough that if it stood, it would be taller than her and Ikharos by a head. She'd never even heard of a creature like this - save for the odd mention from Ikharos. It's form flickered from solid to invisible and back again.
"Psesiskar!" It grunted in a deep gravelly voice, accentuated by a series of muffled clicks.
Ikharos huffed and replied in the same language, albeit without the indecipherable animalistic sounds. "Shes ta drekh."
Though Formora didn't understand his words, it had a visible effect on his captive. "Ta do liksni?" It gasped.
"Eia. Da yus?"
"Nama, da yus?!" The creature growled.
"Sri, sri, Uluru." Ikharos glanced pointedly at Orúm. "Ne sava. Da yus?"
"... Moliko!" The creature closed its inner pair of eyes.
Ikharos spoke up in common, assumedly for Formora's sake. "His name is Moliko."
"I've never..." Formora began.
"He's Fallen." Ikharos added. "Don't know which House yet. I'm willing to bet they followed the Cabal here. And he followed me. I didn't think to find any of their kind here. I wonder where his..." Ikharos looked up, past Formora. "Ah, psekisk. He wasn't alone."
She slowly turned about. Another two of the creatures had crawled over the rock with guns of their own raised in her direction. Formora's heart hammered in her chest. Motion on the edge of her vision caught her attention, and she spotted another three emerging from the surrounding forest.
A growl from behind made her turn around, and she spotted an even larger specimen march up and raise a gun like the Lumina - though one of bronzed metal and less sleek design - against the back of Ikharos' head. "Ra fre. Hu dir," it ordered. Ikharos stepped back from his captive and tossed Orúm onto the grass. His former captive surged to its feet.
"What do we do?" Formora demanded. She had a fair idea what would happen if the new creatures opened fire.
"Drop your weapons. Slowly," Ikharos ordered. "Kida, don't be stupid."
"Sir?" The Frame's eye darted between targets.
"They've got wire rifles trained on us. If they shoot, only one of us is going to walk out of this. Trust me on this. We're not going to fight this."
"Negative."
"You and Formora won't get out of this alive, so let's-"
"Irrelevant."
"Shut up and do as I say!"
"Negative." Kida raised the rifle. "Analysis: Unknown extrasolar lifeforms detrimental to THREAT: DUSKRISE. Procedure: Must-"
A lance of lightning tore through the Frame's head. The whining body stuttered and fell, sparks shooting from the slagged neck joint. Instant silence fell over the small clearing. The shooter and bearer of the devastating weapon switched its attention to herself and the Risen.
Ikharos looked at her. "Formora. Don't."
"Are they with the Cabal?" She whispered. The too many weapons were aimed in her direction and there wasn't any form of cover within easy reach. Her carefully maintained wards were useless against the advanced weapons. Her armour wouldn't hold up either if Kida's prone form was any indication.
"No. I can talk with them, just... just trust me, okay?"
She lowered her arms and, reluctantly, let go of her weapons. The Eliksni surged forwards and collected them, never moving their eyes from their new captives. The big one - wearing a helmet with a wide fan shaped crest rising horizontally from the back of its head - forced Ikharos to turn around. "Ta do liksni."
"Eia," the Risen replied in a careful tone.
"Kri?"
"Nama dir."
"Hah!" The big Eliksni barked out a laugh. "Eia, nama dir. Ne zes sha."
"Ne... Sha'ge."
The big creature narrowed all of its eyes. "Sha'ge?"
"Eia, Sha'ge-"
"Nama, Sha'ir."
"Oh crap."
"Mraskilaasan-veskirisk kana. Nama-Hulunkles." It waved with a free hand to the others. "Kle-nan! Irso da!"
One of the creatures approached her and grasped her wrists; she had to resist the urge to smash it apart with a spell. The moment she fought back, the others would open fire. At least in the city they'd heard the Frames coming, but this... this was too sudden. The creature forcibly tore the shield from her bracer using inhuman strength and, with a strand of metallic rope, tied her hands together. It jerked its head forward. "Da!"
She started walking in the direction it indicated. Two of its fellows picked up Kida's corpse between them and followed the rest of the armed group.
000
Ikharos remained silent throughout the entire march to the Eliksni camp, carefully studying his captors. The red they wore initially led him to believe they were Devils, but the glittering gold sigils and the fact that they hadn't immediately murdered him shot down that theory. Which was fortunate for them. If they had been Devils, then he wouldn't have let them live longer than a minute and damned be the consequences.
Even so, they didn't bear the banner of any House he recognized. Their armour was in great condition, far better than the salvaged relics House Dusk handed out to all its members. They carried trophies attached to their weapons, pauldrons, and helmets in the forms of bones or Cabal dogtags. The Captain wore a cloak made of Cabal warbeast scales, golden stripes painted across the red to signify her loyalty. She set a hard pace and snapped at any who fell behind. She seemed used to command - not a recent promotion, that was obvious. Their ranks had the added benefit of stability and experience, it seemed, which made them all the more dangerous.
The Captain had taken his Lumina and gawked at it over the course of the forced march. Just when they arrived at the entrance of a cave set into a jutting rocky mound, she turned to him and asked, "Did you forge this?"
"With some help," Ikharos replied in low Eliksni. He couldn't imitate the barks or the clicking, but he managed to get his meaning across just fine.
Her inner eyes narrowed, signifying displeasure or suspicion. Likely the latter. "You are armed. Your people are not."
"I've arrived only somewhat recently. The same as you, I suspect."
"Where are you from?"
"Earth." He saw no reason to lie. If they wanted to find humanity's homeworld, it would be an easy thing to do. By then the entire Cabal Empire must have known about it. Besides, what would be the harm? They'd only get ripped apart the moment they arrived in the wartorn territories of Sol.
"I wonder if you are being truthful with me, Light-Thief."
"I haven't stolen anything. Particularly the Light. It was given to me."
The Captain snorted. "We'll see."
They were shoved to the back of the cave with four Vandals and a single Marauder - Moliko - to guard them. It became increasingly clear that they weren't related to the Houses stationed at Earth. They made no move to draw out Xiān, unaware of the chaos posed by the small machine. He doubted they even knew what a Ghost was, let alone if he had one.
His hands were cuffed and two of the Eliksni had rifles primed to fire resting loosely in their hands. Ikharos was sure that was a mistake. Fallen weren't known for their otherworldly powers, whereas both their prisoners were creatures of paracausal design. He and Formora didn't strictly need weapons to kill.
"What happens now?" His elven companion mumbled.
Ikharos glanced at her. They were unharmed, which was a lot more than he could have asked for. His Light wasn't far away either. If push came to shove, he could have teleported them out with an altered Nova Warp - but the ensuing explosion of noise would have been sure to draw the attention of the Cabal. They were poor trackers, but given a whiff of prey and they would have doggedly ran it down. "I don't know. I suppose we wait."
"You speak their language?"
"I do. I've had ample experience with their people."
"Can you fight them?"
"One should never rush with Fallen. They're too smart, and dangerous besides."
"Why did you surrender?" Formora asked him, while she glared at their captors. "I've seen what you could do. You could have killed them all."
"I would be the only one left alive. Firefights are quick and brutal affairs. Survival is never guaranteed. And I'm not a heartless bastard. There's bound to be an easier way out of this. One where we all survive."
"You could move us."
"And have an entire Cabal cohort snapping at our heels. If I use a Super, it won't be quiet. The Psions would pick up on the power surge and zone in on our location. We'd be in an arguably worse situation."
A brief pause followed. "Thank you," Formora said softly. She met his eyes. There wasn't a trace of the rage that so commonly followed their little talks.
They didn't have to stay there very long. The Captain returned and pointed to Ikharos. "You. Follow me," she ordered in Eliksni.
"I'm not moving until we get an assurance of safety."
"You don't have a choice."
"Do you want to test that?"
The Captain glared at him. Suddenly her outer eyes narrowed and she bellowed with heavy laughter. "You have fire, Light-Thief. I'll give you that. I will not visit undeserved pain unto you."
"Same for her," Ikharos jutted his head towards Formora.
The Captain waved him on impatiently. "Yes yes, no undeserved pain unto your friend. Now move."
"I need your word. In High Speak."
All four eyes narrowed. "You know much of mine-culture, Light-Thief," the Captain drawled. "How is that, I wonder?"
"I've known Judgement, Devils, Kings, Wolves and Winter," Ikharos replied evenly. "I've known of your people since the day I was given life. I know your kind."
"Then you know that an oath in High Eliksni is not easily given."
"I guess we'll wait."
The Captain stepped closer, one of her hands drawing nearer to her sword. "I could make you."
"Try it," Ikharos dared. "See what happens."
Once more the Captain laughed. "I like you. You remind me of mine-brother, before he was crushed beneath a Centurion's heel." She switched to High Eliksni, speaking slowly to better pronunciate the delicate words. "I swear no undeserved pain will be delivered unto either of you."
"That's better." Ikharos stood. "What do you want me for?"
"Knowledge. I have heard of you, Light-Thief." She grabbed his arm and led him away. More Fallen had arrived at the cave, from Dregs to Splicers, and they all watched him like keen-eyed hawks. The Captain stopped by another chamber, far larger than the previous. A holotable rested in the middle with a hologram of a city displayed in orange light: Ceunon. Little Harvester and Thresher models flew overhead. The Captain let him go and walked to the far end of the table. Two Vandals armed with Arc spears flanked her. "Mine-Baron has put out a price on your capture."
Ikharos frowned. The metal wire around his wrists irritated him. "You said a Wolf told you about me. Which is impossible. The Wolves are gone."
"Wolf of the past, Scar of the present."
"A deserter?"
"Watch your tone!" The Captain bellowed angrily. She calmed quickly. "Merely a lost warrior. He knows all about your kind. Said you are strong. Said that you are no friend to Eliksni. And said that you are deathless." The Captain's eyes sparkled with interest. "Deathless like Hive. I want to know."
Before he could object, she drew a Arc pistol and shot him point blank. His shields held. Without a moment's hesitation the Captain emptied the rest of the gun's battery as he began to move, overloading his shield and sending a fatal burst of electricity coursing painfully through his body.
When Ikharos came back, he brought forth a protective aura of Solar around him, searing the very ground he stood upon. The Captain stared back, mildly impressed. Her guards rapidly backpedaled. Xiān was thankfully out of sight of the Eliksni. She was as much a veteran at it as he was.
"So it's true," the Captain remarked. "You are deathless."
He doused the flames and sent her an angry look. "You broke your word."
"I promised not to deliver undeserved pain." She said flippantly. "That was deserved. You threatened mine-brother's heir, Moliko. Our feud is no longer an issue now that the debt is paid."
Ikharos glowered. "He wasn't hurt."
"You don't look hurt either. It is in the past. Now we talk." She leaned forward. "I am Sundrass, Captain of the Scar banner."
Scars. Ikharos knew of them - sort of. What was it Variks said? 'Cannot keep Wolves from Kings, Scar from Winter. Fell to fighting. Fell to hate.' "You went to war with House Winter."
The Captain perked up. "Hah, yes. They could weather a storm, but not the Scars! How fare those cowards?"
"Disbanded. Draksis is dead, along with most other Winter nobles." Though not all.
Sundrass clicked her fangs. "Draksis... Yes, I knew Draksis. Great warrior. Smart hunter. How did he perish?"
"I killed him."
All talk died away. His mind filled with Xiān's colourful words of pure exasperation. The Captain looked at him as if only seeing him for the first time. "You killed a Kell?"
"Eia." He half expected her to shoot him again.
She blinked her outer eyes. "Bah, it was only Winter, the cretins." She leaned back. "Name yourself, Light-Thief."
"Ikharos."
"Were you titled?"
"Eia, by Devils. Ikha Riis pak Psekiskar."
Sundrass chuckled. "You are a good prisoner. You have entertained me."
Ikharos grew irritated. "Not what I'm here for. Is that bounty for a corpse?"
"Dead or alive, does not specify. Though I think it would always be alive for you."
"Are you calling it in?"
"Hmm..." The Captain scrutinized him. "Not now."
"Not now?"
"Tell me about the machine above us. The web."
The Warmind. Ikharos shuffled uncomfortably. "It's an independent AI acting on a defensive subroutine to contain something here."
"Contain what?"
Ikharos didn't reply.
Sundress growled. "You will not say? I will learn sooner or later, of this I am sure. You are fortunate that I have need of you elsewhere, or I would have already taken an arm. As you are deathless, the risk involved is little."
Ikharos felt for the veil of Void, the threads of Arc. He was ready to fight his way out if need be. "And what need is that?"
Sundrass waved towards the hologram of Ceunon. "See this? Cabal have claimed one of your cities."
"And you care about that?"
"No, of course not." All four of her eyes narrowed into a glare directed at the heart of the settlement. "I care about mine-crew. Mine-scouts. The Cabal have captured some of mine-Eliksni a number of rotations ago. I want them back, but the psesiskars have locked everything up. Nothing can get in or out alive." She looked at him. "You can get in dead."
"You want me to rescue your scouts." Ikharos crossed his arms.
"Eia."
"In exchange for what?"
Sundrass closed her outer eyes. "You will be released. After that, I do not care what happens. Go back to traveling in the wilds or fighting Cabal; it makes no difference to me."
"What if I refuse?"
"Then your friend will die," the Captain vowed. "I know she is not deathless. You would not have pestered me for a promise of safety if it were otherwise."
Ikharos simmered with sudden fury. "You made an oath."
"And it will be deserving." The Captain responded harshly. "The lives of my scouts are valuable to me. If you let them die, I will return the debt. What do you say to that, Light-Thief? Shall I call for Moliko to cut open her throat?"
AN: Thanks to Nomad Blue for editing!