Infinite Day (111 page)

He heard a strange chattering all around.

Vero forced himself to focus on the Blade of Night.
It must be here somewhere
.

Then he remembered it wasn't the place he sought; it was the person.

“I call on the lord-emperor Nezhuala,” he cried aloud.

At his cry, the voices fell silent.

In the darkness, a figure made of shadows seemed to approach him with slow, powerful steps.

“
Who are you?
” the figure asked in a voice so powerful that it seemed to make the stars tremble. “Why do you trouble the most high over men amid the field of stars? Why do you pester me at my hour of triumph?”

Now
.
Deliver the message; don't stammer
. “I am Merral D'Avanos, the great adversary borne here out of time and legend and summoned to slay you. Just as Lucas Ringell slew your forerunner.”

Vero sensed a flicker of some deep emotion.
Fear, perhaps? Or is that my wishful thinking?
He spoke again. “I wish to challenge you. In the name of the Most High.”

“
Here?
This way? In this place?” There was mystification in the voice, and doubt seeped into Vero's mind.

Have I got this wrong?
But he pushed the thought away
. I cannot afford to think of anything except that I am the one he fears. I must challenge him
.

Vero sensed a deep prodding and probing of his mind.

“I am the great adversary come to challenge you,” he repeated.

“You are not D'Avanos! You're just a
fool
!” The answer slashed at him like a knife blade.

In a moment of utter terror, Vero knew that he had miscalculated.
No—worse. I have done wrong.
“Lord Jesus, have mercy!”

I need to get back into the land of the living. I've been an idiot. My cunning has betrayed me just as they always said it would
.

Vero fled.

But the darkness chased him, and the shadows overwhelmed him.

As Merral heard Lezaroth pronounce his sentence of death, an extraordinary resolve flooded over him.
I will fight. I will not have death come to me. Lord, give me strength!

Another deluge of flashes and blasts lashed through the sky, and he felt the bridge tremble. Almost without thinking, Merral threw the blade at Lezaroth's face. As it spun up and caught the vivid moonlight, he launched himself at the man's gun.

“The Lamb!” he cried.

The sword blade struck the helmet's edge and clattered down harmlessly. But Lezaroth had stepped back, and for a second Merral had the advantage. He leaped at his opponent, pushing and grappling for the gun.

There was a bang, and something flashed. But the round hit his armor and he was unharmed.

Merral's gloved fingers failed to grasp the pistol, but it was somehow dislodged from Lezaroth's grasp. It hit Merral's foot and he kicked it clear.

He tried to seize Lezaroth's helmet and pull it over his head. As he did, his enemy twisted, and for a second the moonlight caught his face so that the flesh looked like pale clay. The eyes, immersed in dark pits of shadow, were inscrutable.

They were locked together now, and Merral felt Lezaroth's hands going for his neck.
My enemy is both heavier and more powerful. I do not have long!

Lezaroth jerked hard against him. “I have you now. And I will kill you with my bare hands.” The words were spat out.

Merral, trying to free his head, glimpsed the time on his helmet datastrip. 11:17:45.
Less than a minute
.
They will be sending out the solar flare warnings now.

An idea came to him. Feeling the gloved hands tighten around his neck, Merral swayed and moved around slowly. He was aware of the audience of the silent, immobile Krallen, the still form of Lloyd, and the flexing of the bridge under his feet.

Merral jerked his head forward, trying to hit Lezaroth in the face with his helmet. His opponent ducked back, and as he did, Merral twisted. Lezaroth's face was struck by the full light of the moon, revealing the scars and the veins under the skin.

Merral felt Lezaroth's hands finding their way beyond the collar of the chest armor so they could press unrestrained against flesh. The hands tightened and Merral felt his breathing become labored.

The moonlight glinted off his opponent's eyes.
If Amethyst is to work, it must be now.

“Lezaroth,” he gasped, “your fate is sealed. Look up at the moon.”

With a grunt, Lezaroth tightened his grip. Then he looked up.

Merral stared down at the ground and closed his eyes.

Light stabbed into his world. A light so stunningly bright that Merral thought he had not closed his eyes in time. A light so dazzling that it seemed to be solid, to have an almost physical presence.

A terrible scream of anguish came from Lezaroth, and he snatched his hands free. As he did, Merral kicked hard at his foe's legs and pushed. He felt the man stagger.

He dared to half open his eyes. It was as if the sun were shining in its midday power over a world covered in snow. Everything gleamed and sparkled with an eye-watering brilliance. Every detail—the immobile Krallen, the prone figure of Lloyd, the ravaged bridge, and the battered landscape beyond—seemed etched in detail by the eerie, flickering, dazzling silver light.

Suddenly, the static Krallen circle seemed to bend and twist into life. Each one lifted its nose skyward, and they uttered a united howl.

On some whim of instinct, Merral froze into immobility. He saw the Krallen swing their heads from side to side in an oddly hesitant way, and it registered that there was no red gleam to their eyes.

They are blinded!

Lezaroth, his hands clawing at his eyes, was reeling. Merral saw how the heads of the Krallen tracked his movements.

They hear him. I dare not speak to warn him.

Lezaroth groaned, and the pack moved toward him. A Krallen slid past Merral, touching his leg.

Lezaroth staggered again and gave another heavy moan.

Whistles sounded, and in a second, every Krallen bounded forward to seize Lezaroth. In a flurry of brutal ferocity, the air was filled with dreadful screams.

Lezaroth reeled about, with at least five Krallen tearing at his arms and face. Blood gushing down his armor, he staggered blindly backward—one, two, three steps.

Then, still screaming, he struck a cable and, covered in snapping and tearing Krallen, toppled over.

As he fell away off the bridge, his screams fading after him, the remaining Krallen unhesitatingly followed him.

Merral watched in the weird silver light as they tumbled and spun down into the rocks and flames far below.

Merral gawked at the scene for a second in disbelief. Then, cautiously screening his eyes with his hands, he looked up to the sky. The moon was a dark disk with an extraordinary halo of shimmering silver illumination around it as if the light was streaming off its surface into space.

We did it! The Blade was destroyed. But at a price.

And as he thought of the cost, he thought of Lloyd. He walked over to his aide, bracing himself for the worst. As he approached, the man stirred.

Merral knelt down by him. “You okay?”

“Yes.” He groaned and got to his knees. “A stun weapon.” He looked around. “It's daytime. What happened? The Krallen?”

“They fell off the bridge. You were quite right, Sergeant; it is a hazard.”

Anya met Merral at the door on the side of the bridge, and after helping the dazed Lloyd through, they embraced.

“Is it over?” she whispered.

“Yes. I think so.”
And I can take Ringell's tag off forever
.

It came to Merral that a future that he hadn't dare think of was beginning to be born.

He turned to look back over the battlefield; it had fallen strangely silent. He remembered his role, and he walked inside to the crowded core center.

“Welcome, Commander,” Betafor said. “You did not tell me about this surprise.” There was what sounded like irritation in her voice.

“In our place, would you have?”

“I am
not
human.”

“I'm sure that continues to be a comfort. Any signals?”
I want to hear from Vero.

“Commander, almost nothing is getting through. There is so much static and radiation. . . . It could be hours before some links are restored. Wire signals work. Just.”

“Can you get me the chairman? Then let's get the reserves out.”

Merral saw Lloyd slumping in a chair, looking very pale. “Sir . . . ?” he said.

“Yes?”

“If this
is
all over, can I resign?”

Shortly after one in the morning, a crackling message from a space telescope was relayed to Merral: the Blade of Night was destroyed. The vast column of dust had been replaced by a glowing cloud of debris with an enormous amount of associated electrical activity and various other perturbations. There had been losses: despite the solar flare drill, few ships had survived even a million kilometers away. There was no word from the lunar bases on the far side, but the predictions were not good. More positively, Laura and the
Sacrifice
had surfaced from Below-Space after a turbulent journey. At the last news, Merral gave a little heartfelt prayer of thanks.

Command and control appeared to have utterly failed in the Dominion forces everywhere. Whether on the ground or in space, they appeared to be in chaos. Some ships and units with humans had surrendered, while others had fought on in a lackluster way until overwhelmed. In places the Krallen had ceased functioning, while in other cases they were blinded and easily killed.

Over the next few hours, as the reserves swept in and destroyed the remaining Dominion forces, extraordinary manifestations of the aurora in the outer atmosphere started, and the sky began to glow and flame with strange lights.

Around three, Merral received a message in text. “My friend! We won. Talk to you tomorrow when signal is better. Exhausted. Long live the Greater Assembly. Vero.”