Chains of Mist (28 page)

They were in a hut of baked red clay, lightly furnished with only a pair of woven sleeping mats. There was a small firepit in the center of the hut, currently unlit since it was both mid-day and summer. Other than that—nothing. The Kastria warrior who had led them here had called the building an
a’kali’a
. Drogni suspected that it was served specifically to house foreign emissaries, as it was located very close to where the
kat’ara
met. Convenient for quick summoning…or eavesdropping
. The walls look thick, but I bet they don’t keep in sound very well
, thought Drogni
. These Kastria can probably learn a lot from what their foreign guests unwittingly say to each other when they think no one’s listening. They’re probably expecting us to go and have a merry old conversation, so they can find out if we’re lying about why we’re really here.

If they were, however, they would be disappointed, for the Tellarians had turned off their implanted translators. Any Kastria eavesdroppers would think that their guests were speaking gibberish.

Makree didn’t meet Drogni’s eyes. “I owe you an apology, Admiral,” he said, his voice distant. “I haven’t been honest with you. In fact, I haven’t been truly honest with anyone for a long time. A long time.” He sighed. “In a way, I am relieved that it is finally over, that the lying can finally stop. Even though I have dreaded this day for years…yes, I’m glad that it is here.”

Makree’s unnaturally calm demeanor sent a chill down Drogni’s spine.
Dammit, I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. I’ve heard that tone before—it’s the voice of a man who knows he’s about to die. Not thinks—
knows.
Whatever he’s hiding, it’s big.
“All right, then. Let’s start with the obvious. You speak the language like a local. How?”

Makree was silent for a moment. “A week ago, had you ever heard of Espir?” he asked finally.

Drogni frowned at the evasion but decided to hear Makree out. “Yeah, I’d heard of it. But I never thought I’d ever end up coming here. What’s your point?”

“What indeed?” Makree sighed again. “To you, this planet was just a name in a reference index. But to me it was more, far more. In fact, this planet has dominated my thoughts and dreams for half a decade. Until a few days ago, you barely spared a thought towards this planet. But I have long known that I would die here.”

He said it so casually that it failed to register at first. Then, it was like a fist in Drogni’s sternum. “Say that again?”

“I’m sorry, I should explain. I didn’t mean
here
, specifically. But it was on a list. A short list. And the rest is happening exactly as it was supposed to, so there is no doubt in my mind that I will die here. I had hoped for more time…but it was not to be. And I am trying to accept that.”

Makree’s voice faded into silence, but Drogni had barely heard the last few sentences. He was still trying to wrap his brain around that first bombshell. “Slow down a minute, soldier, and try that one again. What list? Where? How? And that’s just for starters.”

“A list…no, not
a
list.
The
list.” Makree looked as though he was struggling to adequately verbalize what he was thinking. “Have you ever heard of the Planets of G’Char?”

The what?
“No.”

“I thought not,” continued Makree. “The term is ancient, back from when the galaxy was young, and it has been forgotten in all but a few select circles. I first heard it whispered by the elites of the Blood Legion, and there are ancient libraries that contain references…but that is beside the point. The Vizier knows the planets of which I speak, though I doubt he has ever heard the term ‘G’Char.’ They call to him, as they call to all with magic in their blood. And in the days to come, they will beckon more strongly, as ancient forces awaken and add their power to the mix. Espir, Marthun, Vellanite, Kholaz: that is the list. I knew that I would die on one of them, but for five years I did not know which. Until now.”

Of the four planets, Drogni recognized three: Espir, Marthun, and Vellanite.
Two empty worlds, and one that’s the cesspit of all that is criminal in the galaxy.
The last name meant nothing to him, though ‘Kholaz’ sounded vaguely H’Grosshi
.
“So why are these planets so special?”

Makree laughed, a humorless sound that faded quickly. “Why are they special? One might as well ask a child to explain a u-drive! No, I am not mocking you,” he added, seeing Drogni redden with anger, “But you do not realize how difficult a question that is. I will do my best.” He paused and thought for a few moments. “The simple answer is this: they are
power
. Power incarnate, power to shatter galaxies and tear the fabric of time and space. In its natural state, this power is dormant. But there are rituals to ‘activate’—for lack of a better term—a Planet of G’Char. I have read that there are hundreds of such rituals, many involving two or even three of the Planets, activated in a certain order. And the effects of these rituals…” He shook his head and shrugged helplessly. “The effects are legion. Nearly anything you might imagine. And once a ritual is complete, it cannot be undone by any force that I know of.”

“So that’s why Rokan Sellas came here?” Drogni felt slightly nauseous at the thought of entire
planets
forged of magic. “To ‘activate’ Espir?”

“It must be. And, once activated, the power of G’Char is almost unfathomable; there is no telling what Rokan Sellas might do with it.”

“Well, that’s just great.” Drogni dug his knuckles into his temple, as if by doing so he might reveal some hidden solution to their problems. “And there’s no way to tell which of these rituals he’s trying to start?”

Makree shook his head, his eyes dark. “None.”

Drogni let that sink in for a moment, then shook himself mentally.
If there’s no way to know, then there’s no sense worrying about it. Focus about what we
can
do instead.
“All right, fine—it doesn’t matter exactly what he’s trying to do as long as we can stop it from happening. So the real question is:
can
we stop it? Rokan Sellas has got a head start on us—for all we know, he could be done before we can even get to him. Hell, he could
already
be done.”

Makree sighed. “Yes, he could. Fortunately, it takes time to awaken a Planet of G’Char. And I think that, if he had, we would see signs of it. But I cannot be sure. All we can do is get to Nembane Mountain as quickly as we can…and hope for the best.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” They sat in silence for a few moments. Once or twice, Drogni thought he heard a burst of static in his ears, a dull buzzing that didn’t appear to have a source. He guessed that the Vizier was trying to make contact but, for whatever reason, was unable to.
Well, he did say that once he lost the link it was probably gone for good.
It looked like they would just have to figure this out on their own…which, quite frankly, was how he would prefer to do it.
“Alright, that’s a good start. But it still doesn’t explain why you’ve been walking around with the language spoken in this region of Espir inside your skull.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Makree sighed, and for a moment he broke Drogni’s gaze. “Talking about this is proving…difficult. I thought I had accepted my death—I made a choice, you see—but now that the moment is actually here…” He shook his head. “It is not an easy thing, to walk into death when you know that you cannot escape it.”

He sounded
lost
, terribly lost. It was an abrupt departure from the confident, deadly Aras Makree who had risen like a rocket through the ranks and had never lost a soldier under his command, the man who had shown no fear as he fought through waves of enemies on Leva and Hilthak. The man who now sat before Drogni was somehow diminished, his veneer of invincibility abruptly stripped away, and Drogni was unsure how to reply. “I wish I could say I understood what you’re feeling, but I don’t. The best I can do is say I’ll do my best to keep you alive.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” Makree took a deep breath. “I appreciate the gesture…but there is nothing you can do. In fact, it is important that I
do
die here, because my death serves a purpose. You see, I…” And his voice abruptly trailed off.

Drogni waited a few moments, then said quietly, “Take your time, Aras.”

Makree closed his eyes and took a series of calming breaths. Finally he opened his eyes, and the gaze that met Drogni’s was steady. “Thank you, Admiral. Like I said before, a part of me is relieved that this day is here. It is important to me, to tell someone the truth, so that it can live on after…after I am gone. The truth should always endure—it should never be stopped by something as trivial as death.”

Drogni said nothing; he sensed that nothing needed to be said. He simply waited.

Makree continued. “For eleven years, I was a member of the mercenary corps known as the Blood Legion. Although perhaps ‘mercenary’ is not the best way to describe them… ‘Guardian’ is better. The Legion is primarily a protector of technological secrets from another age—technologies that, in the wrong hands, could wreak unimaginable destruction. That
did
wreak such destruction at some point in the past, obliterating entire races of beings so completely that no trace of them has yet been found. Even the Legion knows almost nothing about the peoples whose technology they now guard—all we know is that a war such as the one that wiped them from existence cannot be allowed to happen again.”

At Makree’s tone, something clicked into place in Drogni’s mind. “You think that that’s what Rokan Sellas is planning, don’t you? You think that’s his endgame—annihilation?”

“I cannot say for sure…though I cannot deny that the thought has crossed my mind.” Makree shook his head. “I hope that I am mistaken. It takes a special kind of malice to intend the deaths of billions, to willingly seek the end of all life as we know it. However, I have seen Rokan Sellas, and I have felt his evil, his
will
…and I fear that he is the sort of man who will not be satisfied until the galaxy burns around him.”

At the mention of burning, memories of Denlar surfaced in Drogni’s mind, and rage seethed within him.
Oh, I’ve got no trouble believing that. I’ve seen it firsthand.
“Yeah, but it won’t get that far. It can’t—they’ll see him for what he is long before that. He might want armageddon, but I’d bet the rest of the Coalition doesn’t. Once they see what he’s planning—”

“Perhaps.” Makree shrugged. “Or perhaps not. You have felt his power, felt its allure. You were there on Leva; you heard his speech in front of the Coalition Senate. Remember that, Admiral? He called for war, and the delegates replied with thunderous applause. His power is such that he will compel them to follow him to whatever ends he desires. It is true that perhaps once the reality of his intentions sinks in, once a hundred worlds lie in smoking ruin, they will see him for what he is and cast him out…but I would not count on it. And even if they tried, I doubt they would be able to; he would simply destroy any who tried to depose him, and replace them with those who are firmly in his thrall.”

Makree fell silent, his words hanging ominously, and Drogni knew with terrible certainty that the Sergeant Major spoke the truth. He had felt Rokan Sellas’s power, and had proven helpless against it. His thoughts returned to Hilthak. He remembered the Mari’eth that he had slaughtered in his rage, remembered the exhilaration he had felt as they had died—he broke off that thought, shuddering with fear and revulsion.
I would have killed them all that day. By the gods, I would have killed them all.

Makree spoke again. “Regardless, that is the Legion’s mandate. And it is a noble one, and for my eleven years I served them proudly. But then it all changed five years ago, when I met a man whose name I do not know—a man of mystery, but yet a man of power and
vision.
This man spoke to me; he told me of a future in which the apocalypse that the Blood Legion feared would come to pass. He told me this, and I believed him—why, I cannot say, but in his own way he was as persuasive as Rokan Sellas. He told me that I could stop it—but the only way to do so would be to leave the Legion behind. However, as you might imagine the Legion does not allow its members to simply leave its ranks—the knowledge they safeguard is far too important. Desertion is not possible; they have ways of finding deserters. There are only two ways out: death, and banishment. Death was obviously not an option. And banishment carried with it a punishment more terrible than death.”

More terrible than death?
The way Makree said it sent chills through Drogni’s spine.
“Explain.”

“There is a technology that is spoken of in whispers even among the Blood Legion elites. A weapon so terrible that it is only used in the direst of circumstances, the last of which was centuries ago. Those whom the Legion banishes, they first punish—by erasing their memories. Not completely…but in a way this is worse. The victim has flashes of remembering, moments where he thinks that he is about to stumble upon some great secret, but then that revelation never comes. A perpetual state of existing on the threshold, never able to cross it. This weapon had only ever been used on criminals, beings who had committed crimes terrible beyond words. I could not face becoming the first to willingly choose such a fate; the thought of becoming such a…
husk
…terrified me more than anything else.”