Chapter Four: The Grey Wanderers
Tyria, Thelion system
Refuge World of the Ambul'tiyen
The ancient gate hung above the planet, rotating silently in the void. It stood as both a marvel of engineering and a work of art – a huge horizontal ring of sapphire and gold, pulsing with blue and violet energy. It glowed in the soothing light of the planet's single yellow star. The gate was locked in a stationary orbit, perfectly calculated by its ancient architects. The gate had been constructed eons ago; yet it still remained after all that time, as both gateway and silent guardian to this world.
In the centre of the great ring, a sphere of soft blue light began to pulse and grow. The veins of power that spread across the gate grew brighter, generating the power required, which the gate drew directly from the systems blazing star. Shining solar sails of simmering blue energy, which unfolded now and then across the ring like huge gossamer fins, collected all the energy that was needed.
Finally a shining, simmering portal manifested within the ring. From this portal, a single small Vorentine ship – an Ambul'tiyen Shadow-Ketch – shot out of the portal like a flashing silver dart.
Almost immediately, the ketch slowed down to sub-light speed. Within the vessel's five-crew cockpit, Morlaniath let out a small sigh of relief. As a Ranger and Warden of the Ambul'tiyen he and his band were used to facing danger and living to tell the tale – but he was especially glad to return to the refuge this day, considering the extraordinary events they had witnessed.
They had been able to return to their home refuge, here on Tyria, within hours of departing the Human home system. Speed was of the essence – Morlaniath and his Rangers bore vital news.
The technology of Morlaniath's people had aided them in this. Most other space-faring races of the galaxy used wormholes in interstellar travel, resulting in massive time differences between points of departure and destination. An interstellar journey by means of an artificially-generated wormhole might seem only a few hours long for a starship's crew – but any number of solar cycles could pass at the ship's destination during the journey, depending on the distance travelled.
Thus wormhole travel took longer in reality, and was inefficient over long distances. Other methods of interstellar travel – which involved travelling at speeds closer to sub-light – were even more inefficient. This was what made pan-galactic communication and travel so challenging for many civilisations. But the Vorentines had solved this problem long ago.
Vorentine vessels did not use wormholes for faster-than-light travel, like the less-advanced races they shared the galaxy with. Nor did they use the grotesque, clumsy, gluttonous gravitational drives of the Swarm Hive Fleets. Their interstellar travel technology – developed eons ago, during their earlier years as a space-faring civilisation – involved travel through a completely alternate dimension, which the Vorentines had long since tamed, engineered and further expanded for their purposes.
They called this dimension the 'gateway' – and it served as a conduit enabling nearly instantaneous travel between far-flung worlds across the galaxy, with the vast gulf of light years between them. Gateway access – mastered brilliantly by the Vorentines – also consumed far less energy than a wormhole, or any other form of faster-than-light travel.
The labyrinthine passages of the gateway – carved out by Vorentium's legendary stellar and space-time engineers – were the Vorentines' ancient advantage. Also featuring in their teleportation technology, the gateway was what had enabled them to build and maintain an empire that spanned the galaxy. Vorentine battlefleets could always move faster and more efficiently than those who opposed them.
Including the Swarm, Morlaniath knew. Thank the Gods. The enemy's gravimetric-based drives were far inferior in terms of speed and resource efficiency. A Hive Fleet could take many years to reach a given destination, where a Vorentine fleet could take hours or days.
The gateway was thus one of the few remaining advantages his people held over the invading Hive Fleets, along with other foes. As such, the gateway technology was jealously guarded – Vorentine Seers and the Emperors they served ensured knowledge of its workings was restricted, even among their own people.
The gateway could be accessed either through temporarily generated portals (which the Ranger vessel had used to escape the Swarm at Earth), or through permanently operated gates. At one time, a vast array of permanent gates had been constructed across the galaxy, linking the huge Vorentine Empire in a vast galactic network.
The gate above this world had once been the latter, when this world had been a thriving colony. But those days were long past. As soon as the Shadow-Ketch re-entered real space, the vast portal dissipated from existence, leaving the huge ring gate empty once more.
This was partially to save power – the gate needed a constant stream of solar energy to operate. Yet it was also a protective measure. The gate's portal gave off an energy signature that could easily be detected from outside this star system. This world was a refuge, under the protection of the Ambul'tiyen – thus they wished for it to remain hidden. To that end, the gate also projected a vast stealth field, which shrouded the gate, the planet and what lay on the surface from outside eyes and sensors.
Morlaniath knew that other gates in the ancient array had not survived as this one had. Some gates had been destroyed by the Swarm, when they had overrun outlying Vorentine worlds during their initial invasion of the Galaxy. Others had been self-destructed by the Vorentines themselves, as they abandoned worlds that the Empire's borders withdrew from; a scorched earth strategy in the face of the Swarm invasion, and their people's decline.
The gateway technology was secret and sacred; for it to fall into the hands of any other race … or Gods forbid, the Swarm … that could never be permitted.
Yet the Tyrian Gate still stood watch over its parent world – which the Empire had long since abandoned as Vorentium's borders steadily withdrew. Tyria belonged to the Ambul'tiyen now, as did the ancient gate.
Perhaps, Morlaniath thought, some our people and our works will survive, in spite of all.
He made sure to keep a mental barrier on his own mind. Better yet, he decided to quell his own thoughts. The rest of his crew did not need to sense his constant gloom, hard as it was to avoid in these trying times. They would no doubt have more troubles on their mind very soon.
He directed the Whispered Dream – the Shadow-Ketch which he had commanded for many cycles now – towards the surface of the planet below. His vessel passed through the cloudy atmosphere of Tyria with the speed of an arrow, with the grace of a sewing needle.
Soon enough, the Whispered Dream was cruising through the blue skies of the refuge world, with a fine-tuned hum of its engines echoing across the picturesque sky.
As his crew continued with the final approach, Morlaniath resumed his habit of looking upon the vast landscape beneath him; the winding rivers which fed into vast lakes and oceans, the vast green or scrubby valleys, the snow-capped mountains, the wide ranges of rocky hills, the lush forests, the vast open plains.
Nestled seamlessly with this landscape were the towns and cities of his people – built into the green and rocky hillsides, often beside the great rivers or close to ancient farmland. Their white marble buildings – amongst them houses, amphitheatres and temples, settled along tiled roads, plazas and avenues – shone bright in the sunlight. Their towers, statues and spires were crowned and plated with precious metal, or carved from crystal, which glistened like stars. The settlements were linked in an ancient web of great canals and highways, which also shone brightly in the sun.
In ages past, Tyria had been one of many jewels in Vorentium's crown. It bathed in the light of its artificially enhanced star, which had been engineered in ancient times to further develop the rich climate and growing land. Its vast farms, fed by the great rivers and canals, had ensured this world was one of the Empire's great agricultural cornucopias in its heyday.
That agricultural potency lead the Vorentines to name this star system they had settled and engineered 'Thelion'; thus associating it with Thelia, the goddess of the harvest, healing, fertility and water, who shared her name with one of their homeworld's two moons. Tyria – goddess of the rain and rivers, one of Thelia's daughters in the Vorentine pantheon – had in turn given her name to this planet.
Blessed by the Gods themselves, this planet had prospered for millennia. But, Morlaniath remembered as the Whispered Dream soared over the silent ruins, those days are long past.
The majority of the old farms were laid abandoned, their buildings ruined and empty, their fields overgrown and littered with harvesting machines left to rot and rust. The canals still flowed, yet no ships plied their waters. The towns and cities remained – now empty and lifeless, save for the vines and weeds that covered the buildings and sprung through the pavements as they were slowly reclaimed by nature. Many had been dead for over a thousand years, when the Verixari, the Vorentines of the Empire, had left this world behind. Many of the older cities were in ruin, now long forgotten as remains of the past.
The population of this world was a mere remnant of what it had once been. Many of its former millions had departed to live on the homeworld of Vorentium or closer to it, in the safer regions of the empire's core. Only a few hundred thousand Vorentines had chosen to remain on Tyria, living as their ancient ancestors had done, in the looming shadow of the Hive Fleets and other dangers.
Yet even before the arrival of the Swarm the Vorentine population had been in decline, Morlaniath knew. In his people's culture, the birth of children was a rare and greatly celebrated event – even a single newborn Vorentine child was hailed by the seers with great ceremony and festivity, like the birth of a new star. Even in the best of times, their population only grew very slowly. Even at its height, their population was relatively small for an interstellar species.
In the past, this had not been seen as a problem. In their more vigorous years the Vorentines had expanded and conquered across the galaxy, confident they could hold their vast conquered territories. Their technology, society, warriors and war fleets had been greater than any other. They often conquered and defeated foes more numerous than themselves. Even after the Empire had declared an end to all new conquests and expansion – resulting in fixed borders – Vorentium's millions of years of galactic dominance inevitably led to complacency and arrogance, bringing with it slow decay.
Morlaniath knew now his people had been arrogant and filled with hubris – the huge empire they had expanded into overstretched their population and military, without regard to the long-term effects. This all came to a disastrous head when the Swarm first arrived in the galaxy over a thousand years ago, bringing death to the empire's outer territories.
The Swarm Hive Fleets had swept across the galaxy with vast numbers. The Vorentines were all too often outnumbered and overwhelmed by the ever-multiplying, seething, voracious hives which had overrun and devoured so many worlds which had once belonged to them. Their population had been badly hit by the constant wars with the Swarm – and other opportunistic, older and resentful enemies who were even now exploiting the old empire's weakness and decline.
In the face of this crisis the then Emperor of the Verixari – the lost father of the incumbent – had ordered a steady withdrawal of the imperial borders, leaving behind planets and star systems which were untenable and un-defendable. This slow, steady retreat had continued over the centuries; even after the great, costly victory at Ravennia Minioris.
In the wake of this withdrawal and the Swarm Invasion, the Ambul'tiyen – the Grey Wanderers – had arisen among the Vorentines who had remained on those abandoned worlds such as Tyria, which the Swarm had not yet reached. While some Ambul'tiyen operated nomadically as rangers, others governed their planets outside of imperial authority, protecting those of their people who chose to stay behind. The Ambul'tiyen thus split off from the main empire, forming a smaller, independent confederation of their own.
Of these protected worlds, Tyria was one of their most important – a major refuge, hermitage and key centre to their operations against the Swarm. Rangers such as Morlaniath and his band frequently set out on their long and dangerous missions from this planet. More than any other Vorentines, the Ambul'tiyen were committed to actively resisting the invading Hive Fleets, to aiding resistance across the galaxy – even when they were so few.
Yet Morlaniath would persevere, as would all of his brothers and sisters who followed the path of the Grey Wanderers, of the Rangers. Today, he bore news that might bring hope to some.
"The seers will welcome what we have seen today, Brother-Warden."
Especially hope in the young.
"The Swarm were defeated by the humans, where we thought they would be victorious once again. That is cause for hope, is it not?"
That was Dylios, the youngest of the Ranger crew. It was he who had first reported the anomaly in the Swarm's systems, and then the destruction of the main hiveship. Morlaniath could tell he had sensed his thoughts on the subject of hope.
"Hope is for fools, Dylios." The sneering thought spread among the crew like a cloud of biting insects. "Especially hope placed in primitive animals. You will learn that when you finally become worthy of our path."
"Enough, Saeros!" Morlaniath was quick to put the speaker in his place. "Dylios walks the path of a Ranger; as well as any of us, and as well as you should!"
The abrasive Ranger turned back to his station, suitably chastened by the Warden's furious thought-lashing. It was Saeros who had been the most dismissive of the idea that the humans could successfully resist the Swarm. His was sadly not an uncommon attitude among Vorentines towards 'lesser' species. But then, Moralaniath knew, Saeros always had a talent for being mean-spirited.
Even so, the Warden hid his own opinion on hope well, shielding his thoughts from the others properly this time. Morlaniath himself was not old – but he was still older than Dylios. He had fought against the Swarm for too long – and while hope was worth holding on to, it was all too often forsaken in his experience.
Finally, the Whispered Dream arrived at a far less depressing sight – a city that still lived.
Before them lay the city of Verulon; which stood as the capital and sole remaining populated city of this world. In the sky directly above the city, floating in mid-air like a bright, beautiful, overhanging cloud, hung the Port of Soothing Rains.
The Port of Soothing Rains was a huge, triangular structure, with enough docking spaces to hold dozens, even hundreds of starships. In ages past, fleets of cargo ships would have docked here, where their holds would have been loaded with Tyria's agricultural produce.
Now, only handful of vessels docked here at any one time. The Whispered Dream docked at one of the many empty slots on the vast, elegantly constructed sky harbour. It did so with a seamless motion that made barely a sound or vibration.
Morlaniath ordered the engines to power down, and left his vessel in the care of the watchful systems, repair probes and sentinels of the Port of Soothing Rains. Then he joined his fellow rangers in stepping out of the airlock, into the port's vast corridors.
The corridors were decorated with holographic artworks and dioramas that were changed on a periodical basis. Today there were decorative holograms that hung on the ceiling, in the form of hanging green vines and creepers that trailed diamond shaped leaves and azure flowers. To add to the effect, the port's environmental systems created a gentle breeze that filled the corridors, while the holographic hanging plants swayed soothingly in rhythm.
When the rangers reached the great teleportation hall – a vast domed structure in the centre of the triangular port – they were greeted by a holographic artwork that was even more magnificent.
The entire dome was covered by the illusion of a clouded grey sky, from which a gentle monsoon of holographic rain poured from. The illusion was so perfect that the imaginary rain even created splashes on the marble floor – yet the hall and everything in it was dry, save for the decorative tile pools, with their gushing fountains. Within the grey sky of the dome, a holographic sun shone through the clouds with its rays, creating the image of a glorious spring shower.
Morlaniath had always loved this hall. Yet its immense size and emptiness served to once more to betray the uncomfortable reality. There were no longer any great crowds of his people passing through the halls and corridors of this once busy port, going about their business, travelling to and from this once prosperous world, boarding and alighting ships that plied the whole galaxy.
Instead the port was only used by ranger bands like theirs – along with the occasional diplomat, traveller or merchant. Today, the teleportation hall was empty; save for the rangers, a few drifting maintenance probes, the fountain pools and the illusion of soothing rain.
"At least we do not have to fear walking through crowds."
The snickering thought came from Korath, the oldest of the crewmembers. Normally reserved, he had no doubt sensed his Warden's brooding and thought to humour him, in the hope of brightening Morlaniath's mood.
He succeeded - partly. Morlaniath allowed a small smile. He knew he really must stop immersing himself in the gloom of the universe. There was enough of it go around as it was.
They proceeded to the central structure of the hall – a perfectly arranged central ring of humming, glowing blue pillars, in the midst of the holographic deluge. The rangers entered the ring of central pillars as one, vanishing in a flash of blue-white light.
They passed through the gateway, before emerging from another ring of pillars in the bustling central plaza of Verulon; the Plaza of Thelia's Tears.
The Plaza was so named for the crystalline statue of the harvest goddess in the centre of the plaza. There she stood, her long hair and gown flowing behind her, in a large tile pool of crystal clear water. From her eyes, streams of water flowed in imitation of tears. Beneath her statue were similar likenesses of her daughters, plants and animals, all bathing in the waters of the goddess' compassionate grief.
The fountain and statue depicted a key moment in the history of the gods; when Thelia had wept at the lifeless state of the early world, where nothing could grow for long. Her tears had brought water and life to the newborn world, creating Tyria and her other daughters. From that moment on, Thelia and her children would hold patronage over the rains, rivers, oceans, lakes and all other water, as well as plants, fertility, love, healing and the harvest.
Around this great fountain and plaza, life still remained in Verulon. Here, there were crowds of Morlaniath's people – a sight that reminded him that his civilisation still lived, in spite of all.
A vast array of Vorentines from all walks of life filled the plaza – some browsing the marketplace that surrounded it, some going to and from their daily business and duties in the city. Morlaniath could sense a vast array of lives and occupations in the bustling pedestrians; seers, merchants, engineers, artists, architects, musicians, poets, scribes, gardeners, warriors, craftsmen, diplomats, administrators, farmers and fellow rangers. There were men, women and children – though the latter were as ever very few. On many occasions, they would be completely invisible.
He felt their thoughts – the ambience of the life of Verulon – washing over him like a relieving shower after a long journey. The people, in turn, allowed their thoughts and minds to wash over the rangers and one another, like a collective welcoming embrace. Some of those who passed the rangers in the plaza even gave them a direct greeting; often a nod of respect, sometimes even direct messages of appreciation and gratitude to their brave protectors.
Those thoughts made Morlaniath feel positive once more. These were his people – and they were worth fighting for and protecting from the terrible darkness that could descend upon them at any time, as it had done the humans and so many others.
The people of Verulon created a miasma of colour in the crowd they formed. Flowing robes, gowns and dresses of many colours, the seers wearing robes decorated with rites, prayers and spells. There were dark grey and green cloaks of fellow rangers, which covered dull-coloured armour, masks and helmets. Silver armour fitted to the warriors and city guards, who bore plumed and flared helms, fine broad hats or headdresses worn by merchantmen and others of wealth, drab brown, green or grey overalls of farmers and engineers, interspersed with fine jewels in necklaces, bracelets, collars and headdresses. Some carried gossamer parasols of protective energy to shade them from the sun, or swatters charged with psychic electricity to beat away biting insects.
As with all Vorentines, their eyes glowed brightly with their inner mental power; always with a bright golden, feline-shaped pupil. Yet there could be variation to the colour of the iris and eyeball – just as there was with humans. Sometimes their eyes would be all gold, glowing like precious coins and healthy stars. Others would have eyes that glowed gold and green, purple, blue or ivory-white. Their skin was most often coloured light grey or brown, though sometimes this could be a darker shade. In a few cases, it could be pure bone-white.
Though the appearance of Vorentines was always striking the men, with their rough bony ridges, bone studs and armour at the back of their downward sloping heads, were overshadowed by the women; who bore elegant, graceful appearances and minds that floated their beauty on the wind like fine perfume, always with long manes of hair flowing from the back of their heads. Their hair would be auburn, brown, ebony, silver-white, golden…
Morlaniath shook himself from his thoughts on the passing women. Now was not the time to be distracted. He noticed one of his other rangers, Vetius, snickering as he picked up Morlaniath's thoughts.
"Come," he announced, moving their business forward. "The High Seer will wish to hear of our news."
Verulon, like the ancient cities that the Whispered Dream had passed over, was built into a hillside; the Plaza of Thelia's Tears was the highest point in the city. Unlike those older, abandoned towns however, Verulon's buildings were a mixture of historic white marble and stone, alongside modern octagonal, cone roofed towers and a few domes of glittering metal, crystal and glass. Here the majority of the planet's remaining population could be found. The rest occupied the lonely villas, villages and hamlets that could be found outside the city, some even further out in the now wild valleys, fields and hills, with their residents living out their long lives beside the empty cities.
While the traffic in Verulon was mostly pedestrian, a few hovering ground runners plied the streets, their hums bringing a pleasant tune to the bright summer day on this world. From the top of the hill, Morlaniath could see other ships in the sky – sometimes interstellar vessels such as his own, but mostly sky runners and other smaller craft flying between Verulon and the remaining outlying settlements. Their drives hummed, whined and whistled on the air, like morning birdsong.
Most Vorentines living inside and outside the city, however, used gateway portals to get around Verulon and the entire planet. Their technology significantly reduced vehicle traffic on the ground and in the air.
In this high plaza lay the most important sites in the city; which included the bustling marketplace with its crowds before the rangers, the silver domed senate house with its inner council chambers to their right, and the broad white marble rim of the Odeon amphitheatre to their left. From inside the Odeon, Morlaniath could hear the soft music of flutes and pipes, and felt the soothed, enchanted thoughts of the audience bathing in the serene melody. At other times it would be a choral performance, poets reciting their works, or the seers telling the great stories and myths of old.
The rangers were concerned with none of this. They were heading for the largest and most important building in Verulon, which lay across the plaza directly ahead of them – the Hermitage of the Grey Seers. Walled with marble and crystal pillars covered with scared glyphs, topped with a beautiful domed roof with four octagonal marble towers at each corner, this building dominated the plaza and the entire city, above the Odeon and senate house. Within its walls lay shrines to the gods, the greater shrine that housed the souls of the ancestors – and most importantly, the inner sanctums of the Seer Council.
They strode towards this great central Hermitage, skirting the crowded marketplace as they did so. Sometimes they had to work their way through throngs of people – but the ever respectful citizens made way for their protectors.
Morlaniath had no choice but to deliver his news in person. He had sent a transmission informing Tyria of the Whispered Dream's arrival during the return journey through the gateway – but he could not relay his ranger band's findings through that transmission. Nor could he send a transmission detailing what they had seen while remaining at Earth. Both actions were against protocol – there was every possibility that other Hive Fleets might intercept such a message, and there were too many others who could be listening in.
So he would relay what they had seen at the human homeworld face-to-face, to the High Seer Kheldoran – the one who had assigned them their mission. As ever, Morlaniath would trust his judgement.
Within the inner sanctum of the seers, Myriana did her best to concentrate.
At the instruction of her teacher, she once more immersed herself in the wider skein. As ever, she could feel the minds, essences and souls of her people; not only those who lived in the city and across the planet, but also the souls of the unliving, preserved in the Hermitage's central shrine.
Myriana could sense the spirits of those ancestors through her telepathy – their essences had been passed into the crystals of the soul shrine upon their deaths, preserving their memories and wisdom for the generations that followed. She could hear their collective whispers and singing from the centre of hermitage, soothing her like a fine music. The songs of seers long dead, heroes and leaders of old and lives past filled her mind with joy and sadness in equal measure. The spirits of the dead all too often matched and outnumbered those of the living.
She could feel the thoughts and lives of her kin across Verulon and all of Tyria; their inner thoughts, emotions, histories, hopes, along with their many possible futures. The skein felt like a chorus of individual lives, each with its own unique quality. As she immersed herself further, she expanded her psychic range into the gateway, through which she could feel the many other souls of her people on the myriad of other worlds the gateway could lead her too.
"Concentrate," her master repeated. "You know you can sense it all, that you can immerse yourself freely. Now you must hone your focus toward the possible futures before us."
Myriana continued as instructed, her mind melded with that of her master, their immense mental power burning like a torch that could shine a light in the darkness, illuminate the universe around them and the future that lay ahead.
Myriana was still only an apprentice, learning the skills and ways of the seer from her seasoned teacher. All Vorentines had potent psychic power – but for the average individual among her people this was limited to general telepathy, mental focus, psychic sensitivity of emotions and thoughts, use in their technology, the ability to bond with each other's minds and also to shield themselves from hostile psychic attacks.
This limitation was deliberate. As Myriana well remembered in her earliest years, all of her people were taught from birth to discipline their minds, to suppress their potentially dangerous powers; lest they be used irresponsibly, destructively and selfishly. Such had been the case in the civil conflicts of ancient times, before the first Emperor of the Verixari.
Yet this was not the case for those who chose her current path. Vorentine Seers were trained to develop and wield their mental power to the full, harnessing and disciplining their inner energy for a greater purpose in service of their people and gods. Typically, they were drawn from those who exhibited high psychic potential. With enough time and training, a seer could wield a wide range of the incredible and terrible powers for which Vorentines were renowned and often feared for across the galaxy.
These powers included the gifts of precognition and divination, to sense a range of possible distant and immediate futures; something Myriana was still trying to master.
The young seer followed the mind of her master to the web of possibilities – that part of the skein which often frightened her, due to the sheer range of horrific outcomes that came up in these dark times. The older seer's mind soothed her; they are only possibilities, not certainties. As seers, our task is to guide our people through and from the darkness that you see before us.
One possibility – which her teacher had often shown her, to remind her of the divine importance of their work – showed Verulon as a barren, desiccated rock, in a galaxy filled with lifeless worlds. Not even the homeworld of Vorentium was spared. Her master had shown her every event that lead to this future – which included the Swarm finding Verulon, slaughtering her people, sucking the life from the world ... and doing the same on the homeworld ... before moving on from the dead, empty galaxy they left behind ...
Her duty, the older seer emphasised, was to prevent such dark futures and disasters; to sense which choices, fates and events might lead to such doom, or avert it. Today, however, she would not be examining the possible end of all things again. Instead, she would be joining her teacher in examining the immediate possibilities that lay ahead for her people, and the wider galaxy, in their great war against the Swarm.
Myriana and her teacher examined the current disposition of events, reflected in the psychic realm of immense knowledge, fate and possibility that was the skein. They could not make sense it all – that could overload even the strongest mind – but they could illuminate what was within their ability. They examined the fates that were easiest to interpret – those that would directly affect the Ambul'tiyen of Verulon.
At first the visions that emerged from this simple cross-examination were not extraordinary. The familiar visions of battle, of the splinter Hive Fleets that still prowled this galactic spiral arm, of the resistance they encountered ... these were all too familiar to Myriana and her master.
She saw the battles that Vorentine warriors would have to fight against the Swarm splinter fleets, along with the Resistance forces. The Ambul'tiyen, as part of the coalition of the Ancient Sphere, would of course send their warriors and rangers to assist the Resistance in their constant struggle. This was no surprise – something for which divination was not required.
Then Myriana sensed something else – which her master did not notice at first. It was a vision and a fate that stood out from the others, which Myriana felt herself being instinctively drawn to. Temporarily parting from her master, she pursued it herself, briefly informing her teacher of her diversion.
She saw a new planet and people in her chosen vision – one she did not know of, nor had perceived before. The planet was blue and green, a world of water. The people of this alien world were primitive – yet Myriana could sense a bright beacon of potential in them, shining like a lighthouse in the fog of fate.
The Swarm had come to this world. They had burned, killed and massacred. Myriana saw burning and shattered cities, lives, souls and potentials snuffed out in an instant – like millions of voices of men, women and children crying out in terror, before being suddenly silenced. She felt the native's agony and the mental pain of it all, before suppressing it. She had to compose herself. Seers often sensed the death of worlds lost to the Swarm - this was not a new feeling.
Then the vision took an incredible turn. The Hive Mind of the Swarm featured in this vision, as it did with all visions concerning that species, like a choking, invasive gas in the skein. Yet this time, Myriana could sense that the Hive Mind was also feeling pain, shuddering and screaming with unexpected injury. That was something not often sensed – yet it was always a welcome sight.
She channelled herself right into the growing psychic scream of the Hive Mind; the source was many light years away from Verulon, directly above that primitive, alien world. The Hive Fleet's ships were burning, their main vessel and Navigator vaporised to dust by the heat of a star. She felt the psychic backlash of this Hive Fleet's defeat and sundering echoing through the skein, like a screaming dragon in death throes. Like a pilot flying through a storm, Myriana just managed to maintain her focus in the mental hurricane produced by the main hiveship's destruction.
Then she saw the source of the Swarm's pain – the natives had united and fought back. They were defeating them. The young seer immersed her mind in the vision even further, and sensed these people were lead by a strong-willed courage and defiance of the odds that burned into the skein like a small star, which lanced into the Hive Mind like a red hot poker. The Swarm's prey would not go quietly into the night, nor vanish without a fight.
Myriana was awestruck and inspired by what she saw. The seer followed the pace of the vision – what she had seen thus far had occurred in the immediate past and present. Now she traced the luminous thread of the vision to the future, unravelling it like a ball of twine. As she did so, she saw the natives cheering and celebrating, amidst the ruins of downed and burnt-out hiveships. These people were wounded, yet they were alive. Victorious. Free.
Then Myriana noticed the vision branching into two separate possible futures, like gestating branches from the stem of a growing plant. One branch continued to brighten with promise and potential – at least as far as she could see with her inexperienced and increasingly strained mind. The other branch of fate was darkened, as if it were stillborn in gestation. Troubled, she focused her attention on the latter, immersing herself into this alternative thread of fate.
Myriana could see the natives still jubilant and hopeful as they destroyed what remained of the Hive Fleet's forces, their hope restored in the wake of the terrible invasion. Then within seconds, their jubilation turned to terror and despair. Their world fell into oblivion, so soon after they thought it had just been saved. The young Vorentine once more felt all their minds and souls crying out in heart-wrenching terror and pain – of the whole people, right down to the last child – before they vanished with the air of their world.
Myriana felt tears flow down her face as she felt their collective death, their instant and total extinction. She wanted to save them, to do something ... no. This is only a vision, a possibility not a reality or certainty ... do not lose yourself to it!
The seer tried to maintain her composure. She did so just long enough to trace the source of this horror; the core of their world, being drilled, sucked out and drained...
Myriana cried out in empathic pain – the vision was overwhelming her. Had she waited for her teacher to accompany her in her interpretation, she would have been able to maintain it safely. But inexperienced as she was, such a powerful vision could leave her mind damaged; the pain of the natives, the shriek of the Hive Mind's initial defeat, now its vindictive victory ... the psychic pain it all produced ... it could kill her ...
Then she felt the presence of her teacher's mind beside her. With his fine honed skill and disciplined mind, he banished the rampaging storm of his young pupil's vision in an instant. Myriana felt overwhelming relief, as if her mind had been released from a grip of steel.
Myriana opened her pure golden eyes. They remained moist with tears. She lifted her head, and her teacher's blue and gold eyes met hers.
"You strayed too far from my guidance, child. Some visions can be fatal."
His voice sounded through her mind – stern, yet gentle at the same time. Myriana wiped the tracks of her tears from her face, before she could find the nerve to speak again. Even so, her voice was broken by her sobbing and exertion.
"I know now I have strayed master...the vision...it drew me in..."
"Let me see for myself."
The older seer put a hand close to his pupil's forehead. He drew in her stored memories of that moment, experiencing what she had envisioned. To her further shame and sorrow, she saw that her teacher remained calm and collected the whole time he viewed her vision.
He is older. He has been a seer far much longer than I.
When he had finished, her master's eyes and thoughts did not contain a reprimand. Instead there was kindness and understanding.
"A troubling yet intriguing vision, my child. You have sensed a truly seismic event. I am sure we can interpret it further, with time."
"But those people – they were not ours. Nor any that we have fought alongside...or know of!"
"They are not a people that you know of, child." Now his telepathy was scolding. "You have not experienced this galaxy and universe to the degree most of us have."
Myriana considered this. Before she could reply, the older seer continued.
"Yet from your vision and our line of divination, we can see their fates are tied to those of our people. That is something worthy of further investigation. It is not often that the Swarm is turned – should this be true, that too would be worthy of our contemplation."
"Could it be true, teacher? Could the Swarm have been defeated? By those people, standing alone?"
Now the older seer took a moment to consider.
"Visions of the present and future are not always certain, child. They should never be taken at absolute face value. The dark fate you perceived as possible has certainly not occurred yet. Furthermore, you lost control during your divination – you may not have perceived the entire vision. Even what you saw my have been clouded. As I have said, we will review it again in full. With my guidance."
Her thoughts were calmed and content after that. She felt a determination to understand what she had seen – and what it could all mean.
"Shall we resume now, teacher?"
His thoughts became stern again. "No. You suffered a major backlash. If you immerse yourself in the skein again so soon afterward, your mind could suffer further damage. Damage that could be permanent."
He rose from where he was crouched before her, beckoning her to rise with him. She did so, leaving her position of meditation and standing. Myriana's seer robes were long and inscribed with runes and prayers – yet they were not as grand and decorated as her teacher's. She knew to respect his instruction.
"Return to your chambers and rest, my child. I will call you when you are ready."
"How will you know, High Seer?"
Her teacher cocked his head and raised his eyes in amusement.
"Do I not always know?"
Myriana allowed contentment to wrap her mind. To other species, it would have been the equivalent of a smile. She bowed her head and curtsied.
"Of course, High Seer Kheldoran."
She left the mediation chamber, her robes and long brown hair flowing behind her. Kheldoran briefly adjusted one of the charms that hung on the walls, with its draping prayers and runes – before adjusting his own robes, taking up his staff and preparing to leave.
Then he sensed a mental chime in his mind – a visitor was summoning him. They were in the foyer at Hermitage's entrance. Kheldoran pursued the mental link and identified the sender – the Ranger Warden Morlaniath.
This had to be important. He made all speed to the foyer.
The hermitage foyer was as grand and beautiful as Morlaniath remembered it. Like the Port of Soothing Rains, it was also decorated with large tile pools. Here however, the crystal-clear water pools were inhabited by floating plants such as brightleaf pads, along with fish native to Tyria.
This was not the only appreciation of natural beauty on display. In secluded rectangles of fertile soil, there grew small trees, beds of flowers and creeping plants with exotically coloured leaves and blossoms. Inside and between these small gardens and the pools, exotic insects could be seen; sunshell beetles that hummed and buzzed around like flying gemstones, as well as beautifully coloured fan-wings which added to the natural decor.
The foyer itself was covered with mosaics, depicting scenes of the gods and mythology of Morlaniath's people. Along either side of the foyer, statues of great seers long past lined the walls. In the ceiling above, a shifting hologram depicting images of the stars, nebulas and galaxies of the wider universe shone down onto those below. Songs from the ancient shrines, sung by seers both living and dead, echoed through the foyer, the whole hermitage and Morlaniath's mind like the chant of a heavenly choir.
Morlaniath's attention however, was fixed on the High Seer emerging from the direction of the inner sanctum. As a gesture of respect in Kheldoran's presence, The Ranger Warden had removed his face mask and lowered the hood of his dark grey ranger's cloak in deference. He had also ordered the other rangers to wait at the entrance – what would be said today had to remain as confidential as possible, before a decision could be made.
Soon enough, High Seer Kheldoran was before him, in his dark blue and grey seer's vestments and robes that tapered down to the soles of his four-toed feet, decorated with silver and gold lining, inscribed with spells, runes and charms according to his experience and station. Around his neck hung a necklace bearing several holy charms and icons, in deference to the gods and spirits he served. His face, with its blue and gold eyes, carried the expression of authority and the lines of age and experience.
"Hail Kheldoran, High Seer of Tyria, Seer of the Grey Council" Morlaniath declared in reverence, his head bowed. "Forgive me for disturbing your meditations this day. I humbly request an audience."
"Well met, Warden Morlaniath." There was an air of humour to the seer's thoughts. "Your respect is appreciated. But your apologies and boot-licking are unnecessary. Have we not discussed this before?"
Morlaniath allowed himself a small smile, and his thoughts to relax. In spite of his high office and standing, the High Seer possessed an endearing humility and informal nature. He could be serious when required – yet even then he would display a calm and humble facade, even light humour. Morlaniath decided that such a bearing was most befitting of a leader – and he knew Kheldoran well enough to know him as a leader worthy of their people.
"Of course, High Seer." Morlaniath decided not to waste time with platitudes. "My rangers and I have returned from the mission you assigned us. We come bearing important news."
"So I gather."
Kheldoran turned and paced toward one of the tile pools, beckoning the ranger to join him. The telepathic choir of the shrine-song echoed around them as they came to the pool. The elder seer leaned on his staff and motioned his four-fingered hand idly over the surface of the water, watching the red and blue sailfins swim in circles as they blindly followed his casual telepathic emissions like invisible bait.
Even as he did so, Morlaniath could sense that the seer was placing a mental block on their conservation; a psychic firewall that would keep what was said private and confidential. Kheldoran spoke again after a short moment.
"Your thoughts betray you, Morlaniath. You have seen something that has awed you – yet it troubles you. You are not sure what to make of it. I often deal with such confusion from my pupil."
As a High Seer, one of Kheldoran's duties was to train the next generation of Vorentine seers. Morlaniath had occasionally seen his young pupil, Myriana, accompanying her teacher at key council sessions and briefings from time to time.
"As it was I who assigned you your mission, it is only right that I am first to hear of the outcome. So tell me," Kheldoran declared, turning to the Warden again, "what news do you bear that so troubles your mind, ranger of the void?"
"We accomplished your mission as you ordered High Seer," Morlaniath began. "We assisted the Ancient's Resistance as best we could. Furthermore, we located the Swarm splinter fleet both you and they spoke of. Once we did so, we tracked it accordingly to its target system."
"Yes – a splinter fleet centred on a single colony hiveship. A survivor of the Royal Hive Fleet we faced at Ravennia Minioris, I believe."
Kheldoran's words betrayed no bitterness, but Morlaniath could tell that the seer's mind was pained. Like the ranger, the High Seer had been present at that infamous battle. He had fought there, like so many other Vorentines...and suffered, only to see the Swarm regroup in the wake.
"That splinter had much blood on its hands, High Seer. When you assigned us our mission, it had previously devoured one of our refuge worlds, and several of those of the Resistance. However, I bear welcome tidings; for that hiveship has now defiled its last world."
"It is destroyed?!" Kheldoran's thoughts were jubilant. His mind was like a fireplace lighting up with warm flames of celebration.
"Indeed, High Seer. It met its end at the system we tracked it to, where we last reported it. However..."
But Kheldoran's thoughts overcame his own. The normally calm and wise seer was in an excited mood – even he had been waiting for some victory over the Swarm. Then he calmed himself again.
"This is indeed most welcome news. In that system you say? Forgive me, noble Warden, but I would like to know who we have to thank for this. As I remember that star system is remote ... primitive. I know my kin of the Verixari could not have done the deed. If so, they would have informed me. Their Imperial war fleets do not bother with that part of space. As for the Sphere, she would have informed us already if her coalition had..."
Morlaniath sent out an interrupting thought, making it clear that he had more to say. He also strengthened the mental firewall with his own telepathy, to further ensure secrecy.
"With respect, High Seer, I was about to answer your question. That hiveship was not destroyed by us, or any other outside party. The natives are whom we must thank. The humans."
Now Kheldoran was stunned into silence. He recovered after a minute – but Morlaniath never thought that he could see the seer so frozen with surprise.
"I was not expecting that answer, ranger. I do not doubt what you saw...but how is that even possible?"
Morlaniath removed a data crystal from his belt. He had extracted it from the Whispered Dream's systems. On his orders, the crew had saved all the recordings they had made while in the human home system. He had made a point to bring it with him – Kheldoran and the council would need visual evidence of what the rangers had seen.
With a sweep of his hand, Morlaniath telekinetically captured the crystal, and sent it floating into Kheldoran's waiting palm. The seer captured it with his own telekinesis. Then he used his mind to access the data within the floating crystal.
The data crystal could project a holographic projection of the recordings it stored – but Kheldoran chose not to, keeping the visual and audio recordings within his own mind. Even in the Hermitage of the Grey Seers, it could easily be perceived by the wrong minds.
Kheldoran mentally absorbed the recordings and data on the crystal stoically. When he had finished, Morlaniath could sense a range of emotions within his mind; awe among them. Yet Kheldoran's mind also betrayed a knowledge that he had stumbled onto a major piece of a greater puzzle; a discovery that could be far-reaching.
When he spoke again, Morlaniath could feel the decisive thoughts of the wise leader he knew the seer to be. He could also sense that Kheldoran had strengthened the mental block on their conversation to its maximum, further ensuring any eavesdroppers would be shut out.
"You did well to inform me, Warden. The news you bear is...extraordinary. But we should discuss it further in my chambers – there will be no prying minds there. Afterward, I will announce it to the council this evening. This news must be acted upon."
He grasped his staff, now holding it upright as he took a formal stance before Morlaniath.
"Until then, I believe I can trust you and your crew to be discreet?"
"Always, High Seer. On my life and honour."
The elder seer nodded, before beckoning the ranger to follow him to his private chambers. There was much to discuss before the evening began.