The Nemesis Blade (13 page)

Declan saw
Caballa first and she looked up from a book and smiled.

“Declan!” She
rose to embrace him in welcome.

He returned
her clasp with a laugh. Caballa was another beautiful woman, a
Golden in every way. She and Torrullin were close once and he
suspected they slept together, but she and Saska got on famously.
Perhaps he had it wrong.

Saska
performed introductions and of the women only the Minean stuck in
memory, because he could not ignore her dark, whiteless eyes. Iris
was her name.

There were
three men, and he remembered them, for they looked each other over,
assessing threat.

One was from
Yltri, troll-like as Yltri males were. He was old, no threat, and
his name was Gorin. The other was younger, but marginally so, a
refugee from Lax. The man’s name slipped his grasp. The third
intrigued him. The man was in the prime of his life with long fair
hair and blue eyes. He seemed familiar. The man claimed to be a
historian, specialising in ancient cultures, and that was
interesting. He had to be sure to pick the man’s brain before he
left. Now, what was his name? Ah, Sabian, that was it, from …

“Where do you
hail from, Sabian?”

“I was born on
Xen, a toddler on Beacon, had a stint on Fortani, spent long years
on Titania and met Igor here on Lax, helped him get out of there.
We both ended up staying, but I am sure to be moving on soon. Still
much to discover out there.”

Educated,
experienced … and spent long years on Titania? Titania had the
largest known library in the entire universe. “You studied at the
library?”

Sabian smiled.
“I did. Are you after nuggets of information?”

“I am.”

Sabian
inclined his head. “I am happy to share.”

“After we
eat,” Saska said. “Declan is hungry, can’t you hear his
stomach?”

Everyone
laughed and Caballa hooked her arm through Declan’s and drew him
back into the herb garden. Saska grinned and passed them on the way
to the kitchen.

“I assume this
is no idle visit?” Caballa asked, taking him further from listening
ears.

“Lowen is
missing, a time shift, and a confrontation brews out there. I need
your help.”

“Agnimus,” she
murmured.

“How did you
know?”

“I saw you
come and saw what you were after.”

“You are
good.”

She smiled. “I
know. We will talk later, all right?”

“I have only a
week to find him, Caballa.”

“But you need
to eat, so we eat and then we talk, and then you can collar the
sexy Sabian.”

“Sexy?” Declan
grimaced.

“Very. We all
have our sights set on him.” She laughed at the disbelief in his
eyes. “We are isolated, not dead, and he is harmless.”

“Yes, well …”
and Declan allowed himself to be pulled towards the kitchen.

Nothing exists
in a vacuum. What this statement means has little to do with the
likelihood of life in an airless space. It means all is connected,
that function results from mutual reliance.

~ Book of
Sages

Luvanor

A
s Torrullin descended into the bowels of Grinwallin’s
inner city, Shenendo put in an appearance at the Academia of Truth
on Atrin continent.

He was charged
with finding information on the Luvans of Grinwallin, the ancient
race before the Senlu, and judged the Academia a prime place to
commence his search.

Shenendo was
to be disappointed. He managed to speak to the resident archives
master, but the Brother informed him the tales in their possession
went back no further than the time of the Nine. That was too
recent, for the Nine came to Luvanor when the Senlu had already
vanished into abeyance.

“What do you
know of the Luvans?” Shenendo asked of Brother Tas.

“For Luvan
tales you should have a word with Emperor Teighlar.”

“I get the
distinct feeling he will not talk.”

“Then you are
buggered,” Brother Tas shrugged.

“Yes.”
Shenendo rose, thanked the Brother and left.

He went next
to Titania.

Titania

Titania was a
vast planet.

It possessed
eight continents, five moons and rotated within rings of stellar
dust.

It was a
strange place by any standard. Mountains were spongy on Titania and
marshland moved with the moons’ influences. The sky was rosy during
daylight and yellow at night. Trees grew above the ground and there
were no flowers or shrubs. Mosses, mushrooms, algae and various
spores were the featured plant and animal life. Water was
drinkable, but tasted brackish and earthy, and was emerald in
colour. The air was breathable, but tasted of metal and cloyed to
the skin, akin to humidity. It was generally cold.

Titania was
immeasurably wealthy in two things, which was why Titania would
never be ignored.

One was the
vast resource of minerals and the other was an even greater store
of knowledge. Titania did, in fact, possess the largest library in
the universe and it contained everything from pictograms scratched
on pieces of bark to the most advanced technological devices.
Titania claimed to have a copy of everything ever written, over all
time.

Shenendo was
cowed by the massive entrance doors. He noted how they opened and
closed soundlessly, as if by magic, and yet knew it was
technological. He hailed from a backwater world and had in his life
little to do with things on such scale, and not even his recent
years with the Kaval altered his expectations. Shenendo, of the
Nipponese races, would be changed forever after this foray into
vastness.

Knowing how it
would be viewed if he failed in his mission, he gathered his wits
and courage and approached the massive doors. Nobody questioned his
right to be there and he found it disconcerting. If he were in
charge of this vast store of knowledge, he would guard it with
everything at his disposal. He knew Titania had an open door
policy, but could envision the damage caused by an act of
terrorism. It should be well guarded, a place such as this.

What he did
not know was that it was guarded and monitored every moment of
every hour, but by sensors so advanced not even the universe’ most
ingenious thief could penetrate, and it also possessed a database
so huge it could match every face of every entrant to records
already in place.

Shenendo was
matched as Kaval, vetted as safe, and was allowed to pass through
the doors unmolested. Titania had a force of crack troops to hand,
and had he failed the matching, he would now be in custody.

The doors slid
closed behind him and he was in a modern lobby. Information desks
were staffed by bright, friendly men and women, and lines of people
snaked before each.

Beyond lay
another set of double glass doors and through the transparency he
saw walls of books, shelves of computer screens, aisles and
corridors the length of streets and tiny, manned cars buzzed up and
down the ‘streets’, the distances too great to negotiate by
foot.

Shenendo’s
mouth fell open. There had to be zillions of books and he meant it
literally. No wonder, then, the snaking lines, for one required
help to find anything in this vastness.

His mouth
snapped closed and he joined the line that seemed shortest and
found the well of patience to endure what could prove a long
wait.

Ymir

Chaim was a
Jew.

Like to the
humans who held onto a belief system that claimed Jesus Christ as
Saviour, the Jews of Earth took their monotheism into the wider
universe and believed as they had ages ago.

He was a small
man, a spiritual leader, a wise man, and compassionate and
understanding of human failing, including his own. White-haired,
bent and wrinkled, he became immortal late in mortal life. The
strength of his spirit aided him well in the change and he chose
the path of longevity purely because he felt he did not know all
truths. Others followed his ways - gone now - but had not seen as
he did that it was impossible for all truths to be revealed.

Truth was
subjective, and it was a populated universe.

The only truth
he suffered over was the ability to travel space.

Worlds in
solar systems were far apart, solar systems within galaxies were
even further removed from each other and galaxies lay within vast
spaces incredibly distant one from the other that space should be
eternally limited to a stint to the local moon. And it was not
so.

Craft sped the
spaces as if travelling between cities, achieving destination in
weeks when it should take billions of light years. Astronomers
attempted to explain the amazing unseen highways in the black
nothingness; engineers attempted to unravel for him the astounding
capabilities of engines that could go faster than light; quantum
physicists attempted to explain simply the concept of folded space,
of wormholes, of time shortening the further and faster one
travelled … and many others slotted in the pieces of a gigantic,
boggling puzzle.

It was truth
that space travel was achieved daily, yet so much forever
unexplainable accompanied the achievement, it was short of truth to
him.

When he
learned of and later saw with his own eyes, the concept of magical
travel, city to city, world to world, galaxy to galaxy, in the
blink of an eye, he surrendered his search for that truth. Travel
was as it was, and it was a God-given gift; who was he to question
the ways of God?

He taught
himself the paths of magical travel and never questioned the
gift.

Some truths
belonged only to the High One.

He was charged
with finding an army, if one existed, and he commenced his search
on Ymir, the unholy world of depraved sex.

Chaim smirked
as he wandered into one of the city rings. That depravity was
gradually being eradicated, for Elixir abhorred the abuse of
children. Children should be children, not used as sex slaves, and
children should feel safe wherever they were, not barred and
guarded behind chain link fences. The day approached when Ymirian
children could roam without threat; Elixir would ensure it.

The reason he
came to Ymir was Adri.

Adri was an
informant. He dealt in information the way others dealt in
commodities and wares, but he was a good man who trusted Ymir could
return to the salubrious world it was once. He was a gangster with
a heart of gold, but few saw that, which was as well or Adri would
have fed the fishes years ago.

He bartered
information between the crime clans without interfering in their
business, but when something sat wrong with him he told Chaim’s
agents, who told Chaim, and Chaim now passed on potential
atrocities to Elixir. Adri was a double agent and Chaim his
controller. Dealing in information was Chaim’s duty before Kaval
and Adri was not the only one to send snippets through his network,
and both duty and network served Elixir well.

This search
could not be handled through his network. He needed Adri
face-to-face, for this was dangerous information he sought, and the
chain needed to remain short. He set the meeting up using a trusted
agent, and now hoped Adri would be clear to show his face.

Ymir cities
consisted of rings. An inner circle of farmland was surrounded by a
walled ring, then there was a ring of land, then another walled
ring, and so forth. Chaim transported to one of the smaller cities,
three rings, and approached an established safe house in the outer
ring. As an old man he raised little suspicion, and strangers were
a familiar sight on Ymir.

His agent
loitered outside the nondescript house and scratched at his nose
when he saw Chaim - the sign all was well. Chaim tugged at his ear
- keep watch - and entered. Inside was as nondescript and Adri,
thank the Lord, was there.

Ymirians had
red hair and brow ridges and were otherwise familiar. Adri’s hair
was the brightest hue. The man could not hide even in a Ymirian
crowd, but it served him well, for few suspected a visible man.

“Chaim, on
time as usual,” Adri drawled, rising to shake the older man’s
hand.

“Thank you for
coming.” Chaim found a seat, sank down. Immortal, yes, but old
bones remained old bones.

The Ymirian
lifted brow ridges. “Uncommon to meet like this, not so? Something
must be brewing, for I know I have nothing to pass on at
present.”

“The less you
know the better, my friend.”

“And the less
I can tell you, not so?” Adri grinned.

Chaim returned
the grin. “We will compromise as we go.”

“Excellent.
Now, what can I do for you?”

“I am looking
for pockets of resistance and hope your ears heard tell.”

Adri sucked at
his teeth. “Resistance against who or what?”

“Elixir.”

Brow ridges
shot sky high. “Come again? Elixir? Why should that worry him? He
can stamp resistance out by raising a finger - if that.”

“Not small
units hoping to unite. We need to wait until the units become one,
and then it may be too late to stamp on anything.”

A low whistle.
“You describe an army in preparation.”

Chaim sighed.
To receive one had to give. “Yes, it may well be so.”

“And who
organises such a thing?”

Chaim then
lifted his eyebrows.

Adri laughed.
“Ah, you hope I can tell you.” Then he was serious. “How bad are we
speculating here?”

“Potentially
annihilating. Sanctuary will feel the hammer and likely Valaris and
Luvanor, and then who knows?”

“Someone with
a vendetta against Elixir?”

“Of which
there are many,” Chaim muttered.

“True. The
darak fallen types hate being thwarted.”