Chapter 9: The Battle Intensifies

He told me many things about you that night, my son. Some things elated me, some things frightened me. You frightened me. He also told me that you’d be reading this exact passage one day. He even gave me the date and time you’d get to this point in the journal.

First of the Fallen chanted in the ancient tongue of the Shaivere Groguul. It was a far cry from the beauty of the first tongue that the Fallen used when they first came to the Physical Realm, but the Fallen no longer adhered to beauty. Purpose was their only reason for existence now.

Each of the four Fallen chanted rhythmically in the tongue of the Crig Cortan. As they did, they walked around in a large circle, their long arms tracing lines in the ground as they passed. The deft fingers of the Fallen wrote runes into the very hallways built by the cursed Light Monks themselves. As their fingers left the marks, the symbols pulsed with a black light, the light of darkness, tendrils of black smoke seeping out like fissures. Normally, the Fallen wouldn’t be allowed to perform this ritual, not with the Light Wielder close at hand and within his own territory. He would have sensed it and stopped them. But their master, the one called Desolate, had told them that the Light Wielder was temporarily out of commission. By the time he returned, even he would be too late to stop what they would unleash.

This ceremony also required sacrifice. Much sacrifice. Many souls would need to be harvested before it could be completed. Fortunately, their Mage allies on the planet of Tarrus below had already seen to most of the preparations. They too had crafted a circle from careful instructions that the Fallen had sent. In fact, it was for this very moment that the Mages infiltrated Tarrus over five years ago, a chance to deal a mighty blow against the Light Wielder and his precious Light Monks. Their Space Pirate puppets would act as a catalyst as they battled the Elemental forces here, allowing the two circles to become linked when the last of the pirates died. When that happened, the ceremony would be complete, and Galsin would fall, as well as the Monastery itself. Though it mattered little to the Fallen’s mission, the coming apocalypse would provide them with a suitable distraction to escape with their prize.

Their work complete, the four Fallen stood around the circle quietly and fed off the darkness that already seeped from it. Tendrils of black smoke were sucked into the masks that now served as the Fallen’s only faces. The Fallen feasted hungrily on the malevolent energies from the Shadow Realm. Though it caused them immense pain to do so, it was also the only thing that could sustain them during their exile here into the Physical Realm, that and the souls they managed to capture through their contracts. Over the millennia, the Fallen had taken lessons from their master, the Desolate, luring unsuspecting souls into their grasp by offering them their hearts’ desires. Many of the Space Pirates that now fought above the atmosphere had also made contracts with the Fallen. Those contracts had made each of the captains rich and powerful men. Now, the time had come to repay that debt ... with their very lives.

Shuddering slightly with both pain and pleasure, First of the Fallen waved his arm. “Enough. That should sustain us while we do our work on this accursed moon.”

“Want more,” whined Second in his high-pitched voice, his smiling mask hungrier than the others. “Too much light on moon. Too much of Light Wielder’s presence. It hurts us. Weakens us”

First hissed at his insubordinate follower, and Second recoiled. “We haven’t the time. We must be on our way by the time Light Wielder breaks free of his prison. The circle still needs time to draw in more souls. The Mages have yet to utter the final phrase. Until then, we are vulnerable with only weak mortals to aid us.”

“Them, and soon, the Undying as well,” said Fourth with his sad mask, insufferably countermanding First as usual.

First hissed again and growled at the same time. “The Undying have their own mission. We have ours. Now, let us be off.”

“Pirates,” repeated Éclair incredulously. “You’re sure?”

“Does a frigate crewman pee in space?” asked Skippy, his spacer jokes in full form.

“Uh,” was Éclair’s only reply.

“That would be a ‘yes’. Yes, frigate crews often pee in space. You know, we used to make a game out of it. Sometimes we’d open the airlock and raise an invisible forcefield to keep the cabin pressure. Then we’d pee on the shield. The pee could pass right through the shield and freeze into little clumps of yellow ice right in front of us.”

As he spoke, he more or less lost his sailor accent. He often did that around Éclair. She had been told that she had a way of getting people to drop their guard, a fact she infinitely regretted at this moment.

“Um, Skippy?” asked Éclair uncomfortably, raising a finger.

“And sometimes, we’d make it so the pee wouldn’t pass through the shield at all. It would just float there between the artificial gravity generators and zero atmosphere. Sometimes we even dunked each other’s heads in the floating pee.”

Then he frowned. “In fact, they used to do that to me quite a bit.”

His accent changed back to sailor jargon as he gave a wink and a thumbs up. “That’s why I started usin’ sailor talk, lass. Crew don’t seem to respect their mates unless they got some piratey gig going. Then the dunking eventually stopped. At least for me. New crewmates would inevitably become victims though. Caretaker bless their wee little hearts.”

Éclair sighed, knowing that she’d never get a word in edgewise at this point, and feeling mighty seek to her stomach. Fortunately, someone came to her rescue.

“Éclair,” called a voice that sounded familiar. “Is that you?”

Éclair looked passed Skippy, already spinning another frigate story. She realized the voice came from a group of dignitaries huddled together in the back with dozens of Elementals guarding them in a circle. Senators, governors, and noblemen often came to the exams each year to observe the up-and-coming Seconds, especially the sponsors of the Ministries. Naturally, she assumed the attack’s aim was to kidnap some of the visiting politicians and hold them for ransom. That was the whole reason she came to the east wing of the facility where they’d been gathered in their own private safe room. She felt doubly sure of her reasoning when she knew the attackers were Space Pirates.

But what drew her attention was a man pushing past his Elemental guards and staring wide-eyed at her. He was a tall, lean man in his early to mid-twenties with short blond hair combed back tastefully, and deep blue eyes. He wore a gray pinstriped suit and modern-styled pants with black shoes that many noblemen and politicians sported. David Kavic, the Viceroy of the Tarrus Empire and right-hand man to Alexander Chissler was a welcomed sight despite his associations.

“David,” said Éclair in awe.

Tork and Thisimius also noticed the Viceroy, and rushed to him before Éclair could respond.

Tork embraced Kavic in a fierce hug and flew around the room with him. The other politicians cringed away in horror at the display, but Kavic merely laughed, raising his hands like a child on a roller coaster.

Tork deposited the Viceroy to the ground and mussed his hair playfully, all the while saying, “Jolly good show! Jolly, jolly good show, old chap!”

The Viceroy, his hair now a mess, continued smiling and chuckling happily as he shook Thisy’s big arm, the Ogre’s huge hand engulfing his own.

Éclair approached slowly until she had the Viceroy’s attention.

Smoothing his hair back, and straitening his tie, the Viceroy held out his hand and bowed reverently. “Lady Kaves. It’s an honor to stand in your illustrious presence once again.”

Éclair gave a polite curtsy as the Viceroy took her hand and kissed it. “I assure you, my Lord Viceroy, the honor is mine.”

Then Éclair did a most undignified thing. She jumped forward and wrapped her arms around the nobleman in a fierce hug. She heard gasps from the other politicians watching the display, but that hardly mattered to her at the moment. Slowly, Kavic returned the hug in kind. In fact, he seemed genuinely moved almost to the point of tears as he held her out in front of himself.

“It’s so good to see you, Éclair.” He then swiveled his head to both Tork and Thisimius. “All of you, my friends.”

Once again, Éclair was overwhelmed by the sincerity of this man. She had missed that more than she could’ve realized. “I’m just sorry that it has to be under strenuous circumstances yet again.”

He nodded. “Yes. It would seem that fate has designed for us to share in yet another adventure with one another. I just hope that this one is not so costly.”

Éclair immediately started thinking of Silvia and all the hundreds of Elementals that lost their lives in the brief but intense civil war. She forced herself not to become too emotional as she choked out, “I couldn’t agree more, my friend.”

Hoping to make the conversation less somber, she asked, “If I may be so bold, my lord, what are you doing here? I doubt Chissler is a huge proponent of the Second Level Exams.”

Kavic put a single hand behind his back and assumed a more business-like tone. “Well, the Emperor may not be a fan, but I certainly am. I am representing my own personal interests, not that of the Emperor’s.”

He then leaned in close, cupped a hand to his mouth, and spoke conspiratorially. “And though it pains me to admit this, he often uses my trips to the exams to claim objectivity with the media in his dealings with the Elementals, saying that of course he doesn’t hate Elementals when his own Viceroy attends their rite of passage ceremonies.”

Éclair gave a sad smile and nodded slowly. “I understand. Everything has to have at least a little to do with politics nowadays.”

At least, unlike other politicians, Kavic is honest about it. I missed that about him too. An honest politician seems like such a contradictory concept.

After a slightly guilty glance at his feet, the Viceroy’s expression brightened as he raised his hands up enthusiastically. “Besides, I wasn’t about to miss watching you and Ryan perform in the final phase. Those of us in the senate who still adhere to Ministry teachings often select Elementals who pass the exams for missions throughout the Empire. And sometimes even those who don’t pass if they prove skillful enough.”

Éclair frowned in confusion. “But the final exam isn’t at least for another few days. Why would you come so early?”

For some reason, Thisimius gave a loud cough and Tork started whistling loudly while twiddling his thumbs.

Kavic seemed to notice their alarm and his face became guilty yet again as he adjusted his collar nervously. “Well, perhaps I’ve said too much.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Thisimius making a jerking motion with his hand, signifying the ‘stop’ signal. When she turned to him questioningly, he put his large hand behind his bulbous head and scratched, looking away innocently as if that’s all he intended to do.

She eyed the three suspiciously, her face stopping at Thisimius. They aren’t very good at hiding things. Trouble is, I’m not quite sure what they’re hiding, but I feel like I should.

Kavic then took Éclair by the shoulders, diverting her attention away from the Ogre. “The important thing is I am here, and I know you and Ryan will be a shoo-in to make Second, especially after your rousing preliminary bouts. Why, some would say you’ve already earned the right given your heroic actions of last year.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here so early. You could’ve watched the preliminaries and then left until the finals began,” she said skeptically, crossing her arms.

He chuckled nervously. “Well, that’s ... that’s simply because I ... I...”

Before he could finish, Éclair’s communicator beeped. When she realized it was Leon, she immediately answered. “Leon. I’m glad you’re safe.”

She could see him running down a hallway with Rachel by his side. Éclair tried not to let this bother her since she and Rachel had mostly reconciled at this point. Still, she hoped her sister wasn’t putting the moves on Leon in her absence.

“Éclair,” said Leon breathlessly as he ran. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m in the east wing with the dignitaries. I thought they would be the targets, so I came to help protect them. Kavic is here too.”

“Hello,” the Viceroy said behind Éclair’s shoulder, waving playfully.

“Éclair,” she heard Rachel’s voice. “Listen. We’re not sure that the pirates are here for the dignitaries. They may be here for-”

“INCOMING!” cried an Elemental at the door just before it exploded.

Éclair immediately created a wall of ice between her and the blast. Flames licked at her ice shield, vaporizing half of it in an instant. Before the fires could overwhelm her wall of ice, Tork flew over it and sucked in loudly, his mouth open wide in what could be called a very long yawn. The flames immediately fizzled out. She’d heard of this. A Dragon’s reverse breath, a way to extinguish flames instead of creating them. Tork coughed, wheezing slightly from the technique.

Through the smoke, Éclair perceived a group of men sprinting through the blasted doorway wielding energy rifles. They were dressed in mismatching uniforms of gray, black, and brown, the individualistic style of Space Pirates apparent in their tattoos and their various gold chains, earrings, and nose rings. Not all of the assailants were human. A great many were Harpies, flying around the room and firing rapidly with guns from their feet. A few even had horns on their heads and hoofed feet, indicating Satyrs. Even a few Elves and Dwarves dotted their ranks. There were other Demihuman species as well such as Minotaurs and Trolls, but at least half were human.

Without hesitating, Éclair summoned her bow to herself, drew back, and fired at her first target in less than an eye blink.

“They’re doing what?” Saria asked one of the floating technicians directing the battlefield.

“They’re ... they’re advancing,” answered the technician in disbelief. “The Space Pirates are abandoning their ships, jettisoning themselves in escape pods to attack our base directly.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Saria’s guard, Lyle, who stood behind her. “Without their ships, they won’t be able to escape. What’s the point of attacking if they can’t run with the loot? They’re pirates, aren’t they? Not terrorists.”

Even Varnus seemed disturbed as he stroked the bottom of his smooth chin. “Over half their fleet destroyed and still they refused to turn back. I should’ve seen this coming. They’re obviously not normal Space Pirates as they appeared to be.”

“The deception goes deeper than that,” said Saria, her brow furrowed in thought. “This attack had all the appearances of a raid. Now it’s clear that they’re simply out for blood. Logical goals like self-preservation and the acquisition of wealth are no longer factors here.”

Growling under her breath, and feeling a void at not being able to sense Tava’s presence any longer, Saria snapped her fingers and pointed at the nearest technician. “You, tell our ships to shoot down as many of the escape pods as they can and mop up any stragglers left behind. Then half are to land immediately and help us fight off the intruders. The other half will maintain defensive positions around the moon’s atmosphere with the rest of our fleet in case more marauders arrive. After that, put me on the speakers. I’m going to make an announcement to the entire base.”

The technician nodded, his fingers typing wildly on the holographic keys. After a few seconds, he gave a thumbs up and said, “You’re live, Lady Minister.”

“Attention, all Fire Ministry personnel. The enemy’s intent is to cause as much damage and destruction as possible regardless of personal risk to themselves. In light of these drastic events, I must ask every able-bodied Elemental to report for duty immediately and stave off any aggressors wherever they may find them. I repeat, all examiners and all examinees, report for duty immediately. Find the nearest entry point and protect our base. This moon is the sacred property of our friends, the Monks that serve the Light, given to our protection in trust. These raiders dare trespass on hallowed ground that has been defended by our forefathers since the beginnings of the Ministry of Fire itself. Do not let them take this base. Do not let them take our pride or our honor! You have your orders, Fire Elementals! May the Caretaker be with us!”

After the comm went off, Saria blew out a long, tired breath. If Eramar were here now, he’d make a snide comment on what a corny speech that was. Blast it all! Where is that man when I need him?

“Excellently executed, my Lady Minister,” said Varnus sincerely with a bow of approval.

Saria knew from experience that every compliment from Varnus was sincere. Though she liked the man well enough, she still preferred Eramar’s council. The Half-Elf was just too polite and boring.

“I’m impervious to all flattery, Varnus,” said Saria with a wry grin. “Just find out exactly how many enemies we’re dealing with and where they’re concentrated. Then have our ground forces respond accordingly.”

Varnus nodded graciously. Then in one graceful bound, he jumped up to the desk of a nearby technician to do just that.

Feeling another bout of pain from a migraine, Saria groaned as she rubbed her tender head. “Lanchester! I need another remedy! My head is killing me!”

No response.

Saria spun in annoyance, her robes swishing around her. “Lanchester! Answer me!”

But only the medics were there where her son-in-law used to be standing. They came to attention, realizing that the Minister’s attention was directed at them. “Apologies, my Lady Minister, but Dr. Lanchester left the command center a short while ago.”

“Well, where the hell did he go?!”

Suddenly, another alarm screeched out, more demanding and piercing than the others before it. “Multiple cloaked vessels detected. Automated defense turrets are firing?”

Varnus crossed his arms and frowned slightly. For any other man, it would be the equivalent of screaming in rage. “I worried we might’ve missed a few cloaked ships. What’s their heading?”

“Sector V-12, coming in at Mach five speed. At least three transports confirmed, frigate class. The energy pressure of their engines are well above that of normal. I think they’re going to explode sir.”

Another technician gasped, his eyes going wide in terror. “They’re on a direct collision course for the command center and charging their warp engines! It’s a kamikaze run!”

“All power to the defensive shields!” Varnus yelled.

But it was already too late. Saria could see several massive shadows through the viewing window growing bigger. There were explosions of bright light as some of the shadows disappeared because of the laser turrets, but not all. Saria instinctively stepped in front of Varnus and raised her hands. Summoning her true power would be dangerous, but she had little choice this time. But when only a tiny fireball came out, she recalled in horror that her powers hadn’t recovered yet.

Just before the frigates hit, Varnus pulled Saria back and summoned his Psionic Sword, raising it in front of him. As he did, glowing orange vines popped out of the ground, smoking with heat and leaking magma. Varnus was a specialty among Elves and Fire Elementals, having found a way to combine the element of fire with that of plants, creating a new species of vines that only he could use. He called them flame vines. Not the most creative of names, but an apt description nonetheless. The golden glowing vines entangled the viewport in an instant until the shadows were gone. Then he tackled Saria to the ground and covered her with his body, his armor flaring with energy as he intended to absorb the oncoming explosion.

There was a loud clap! followed by violent shaking, and then a painful ringing in her ear. Varnus slumped against her, panting heavily with a small trickle of blood leaking from his once-perfect hair. Saria gently pushed the brave Elf off of her, and held him protectively in the crook of her arm. The command center held up pretty nicely all things considered. The pointed nose of a ship poked in from the portal, Varnus’ vines ensnaring it and already melting through the hull. Only the nose of the vessel remained as most of the ship had imploded on impact, likely an intentional effect caused by the engines overloading. That was the only way that the vessel could’ve penetrated the shields. Although, the forcefields around the command center still likely took the brunt of the explosion, otherwise, they wouldn’t still be alive.

Saria’s heart came up in her throat as she saw many of the occupants of the command center lay unconscious or dead, including most of the technicians. Those still conscious rushed to her side, taking up Varnus’ weight. Saria felt the familiar sensation of being healed. It felt like someone was tickling her insides with a stick as the medics passed their healing hands over Saria and Varnus, their fingertips glowing orange.

As Saria looked out the portal, she gasped when she saw three fighter-type vessels hovering behind the broken portal and arming their weapons. Each fighter was brown and slightly rectangular in shape except for a sloping nose where the pilots sat behind a black glass shield. Twin engines glowing red poked out on the sides of each fighter. The defensive shields had partially returned, holding the ships in place as their engines roared to break free and crash like the frigate before them had. Since a suicide run was out of the question, the fighter pilots turned to weaponry. Missiles and turrets popped out of the fighters as they prepared to fire.

“Elementals! Scatter!” ordered Saria. Her well-trained troops joined her as she jumped out of the way of the first salvo. Fortunately, she hadn’t lost all of her superhuman abilities as she hoisted the injured Varnus out of the line of fire.

Missile explosions and laser bolts racked the command center. Most of the Elementals still alive deftly avoided death by running or jumping out of the way with superhuman speed and agility. When she couldn’t move as lithely as she might’ve while carrying Varnus, many of her guards formed a protective circle around her and the Wielder as they absorbed and dispersed the fires and explosions from the missiles with Fire Elemency. Others willed their helmets up and used their bodies as shields, flaring their psions to deflect the laser bolts with only their armor. Thousands of laser bullets bounced off of most of these guards as their armor glowed brighter with orange energy, but one fell to the ground and died as the integrity of his Psionic Armor took too much damage. She could tell he was dead as soon as she saw blood seeping through his red faceplate. Yet another casualty under her watch, and another reason to make these pirates pay with their lives when her powers returned.

After surviving the enemy’s initial wave, the Elementals returned fire in an instant, summoning their Psionic Weapons and unleashing fireballs, lightning bolts, and even magma bullets. The Elemental’s attacks rang true, acting as homing missiles as one of the three ships exploded. Another fighter was cut to pieces by a host of Spiritual-Types that teleported around it and used various Psionic Weapons to slice through the hull until the ship exploded. It didn’t matter how high the ships were. A host of trained Elementals could assail any enemy with or without the aid of vehicles of technology. Once Varnus recovered, he too contributed, knocking away missile attacks and laser barrages with lightning-fast thrusts of his sword and then sending his vines to entangle the last ship. With a snap of his fingers, Varnus’ vines exploded. The last fighter and all its occupants disintegrated in a shower of fire.