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  Mind’s Eye

  A.R. Knight

  Copyright © 2018 by Adam Knight

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN (ebook): 978-1-946554-20-8

  ISBN (print): 978-1-946554-21-5

  Published by Black Key Books

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and co-incidental.

  Black Key Books

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  Also by A.R. Knight

  The Mercenaries Trilogy

  The Metal Man

  Wild Nines

  Dark Ice

  One Shot

  The Riven Trilogy

  Riven

  The Cycle

  Spirit’s End

  The Rakers Saga

  Rakers

  The Skyward Saga

  The Spear

  Oratus

  Starshot

  Mind’s Eye

  Clarity’s Dawn

  Creator’s End

  Humanity Rising

  The Last Cycle

  Discover More Stories

  Want to find out when the next adventure comes out? I’ll only send out a newsletter when there’s a new release, so no spam, only sweet, sweet story goodness.

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  To Anna and Elsa, the cats whose fluffy fur blankets keep the winter writing warm

  Contents

  1. New Empires

  2. The Hunters

  3. Ignos’ Bounty

  4. First Encounter

  5. The Warning

  6. Misdirection

  7. Training

  8. The Lunare

  9. Homecoming

  10. Into Darkness

  11. God’s Chariot

  12. An Inspection

  13. Two Forces

  14. Deadly Designs

  15. Fury Fought

  16. Living Decisions

  17. Captive Views

  18. The Space Station

  19. Everything Is New

  20. A Change of Plans

  21. The Truth

  22. Sample Test

  23. Sessions

  24. Training Allies

  25. Ordinary Extraordinary

  26. Worth A Life

  27. The Empress, Alone

  28. When Push Comes to Claw

  29. Histories

  30. Weapons Testing

  31. The Grand Design

  32. Attrition

  33. Unsteady

  34. Experiments

  35. Escape Plan

  36. Never Stop

  37. The Stuff of Life

  38. Familiar Frame

  39. Spark of Resistance

  40. Together

  41. The Caretaker

  42. Last Acts

  43. Choices Made

  44. Resurgence

  45. Leaving It Behind

  46. To Space

  47. One Last Leap

  An Excerpt from Clarity’s Dawn, The Skyward Saga Book Three

  If you liked this story, please leave a review!

  Also by A.R. Knight

  Discover More Stories

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1 New Empires

  The black pool burbles, pops and churns in front of me. A pair of tanned, cloth-wrapped workers sweep long-handled poles through the same mix that had brought my god to me, keeping what’s inside churning, bringing it closer to what we need.

  Well done.

  I’m smiling as I look around the chamber, walls lined with lit torches, and see a second pool slowly filling as more workers dump buckets of the mixture into a stone pit. Alchemists create each new batch of the mix; a blend of plants, minerals, and water.

  My fellow gods will be happy. Proud of what you’ve made.

  Ignos talks about his fellow gods a lot now, but that’s not the only thing that’s changed.

  With the Cache, the people who call me Empress are crafting one miracle after the next. It’s like watching a fire-burned jungle grow: something wholly different emerges from the landscape. My people, our world is changing. The words taste strange to me. My people. The Charre were, not long ago, enemies. Or, at best, adversaries to be wary of when they crashed through the jungle to my village.

  Now, they scream my name when I walk the markets. They drink every word I preach. Take my every order as a dream.

  Months ago, I was a sixteen year-old girl with no real future. A small tribe Solare waiting for something to happen. Now, I’m getting called by a pair of priests and told it’s time to lead a ceremony.

  I leave the pools, following the trail of torches up and out of the temple. When Ignos tells me that when they’re ready, we’ll use a device my metalworkers are making to send a message to where the other gods are staying. We’ll tell them that it’s time to come home.

  When the rest of the gods arrive, then truly everyone will see as I have seen, will know what I know, and all of my people will be saved.

  I don’t know about that part, but not having to struggle for food, not having to carve out the hearts of captives and pray for rain, that sounds pretty good.

  Still, I’m not an Empress of nothing. Evidence of my people’s prowess is on display as I climb the hard stone steps into the Vaos’ main chamber. The windows on either side let light in from precise angles so that a golden glow fills everything. Heat comes with it, comforting after the cool air underground. Incense, burning in several small vials around the chamber, hides the musk of a city in full growth.

  There’s something new hanging on the walls: three clear globes with black bases latched to the stone. I go to the first one and press a small round, raised area close to its bottom. The globe flickers, green sparks popping up from inside it. After a moment, they steady, keeping up a cascade that brightens the room.

  “A sparker, Empress,” says one of the ever-present priests awaiting my command. “A new miracle, though this one of our own making.”

  “Our own?”

  “The inventor took what the Cache provided and made her own modifications, Empress.” The priest bows deep. “She mentioned that if you wish it to stop, all you need is to release the button.”

  I do so, and the sparks die off immediately. “Tell this inventor to come here soon. I need to congratulate her.”

  Your people are growing up, Empress. I am impressed.

  I smile at the voice in my head. Ignos doesn’t talk as much these days. He is, he tells me, pulling and weeding through more of the information from the Cache. Once the pools are ready, things will move quickly and he needs to be prepared. When I ask him for what, he doesn’t reply.

  I like it when he talks to me. Ignos is the only one who truly knows, after all, who I am. Where I came from. He keeps our grand show going. Keeps my people from finding out who I really am.

  I reach up and adjust the emerald headdress so that it fits more comfortably. The shawl on my shoulders is similarly green, a homage to where I came from. One of the few I allow myself. I can’t be seen as a Solare. I can’t be seen as less than the people I lead.

  “They are ready for you.” My lead general and commander, and my friend, Malo joins me in the chamber. To the lion’s mane framing his face and shoulders, he’s added a fine white and gold robe, a symbol of his rank. I think he looks better in the plain skirt of a fighter, but then, I come from a simple village. “Only adoration today, Empress.”
>
  “Don’t call me that,” I reply. “You know my name.”

  Malo quirks a smile. “I do. But now, especially right now, you have to be a leader. And a leader needs her title.”

  I don’t argue, because he’s right, as he is about most things. So I follow Malo as he walks ahead of me. As soon as he appears at the threshold to the great steps, their mottled gray stone sprawling in front of him, horns blow. A cheer rises up, one that continues and grows as I join Malo. As I raise my hands to the crowd.

  Thousands throng into the square around the Vaos. For a moment I can’t resist, and look up behind me at the twin altars, up those many steps. They glow in the noonday light of Ignos. Each of those altars holds a prisoner. Ones caught plotting against me.

  Not every Charre likes the thought of me leading their empire.

  Once, I’d wanted to end the sacrifices. I’d never relished holding the black glass knife, making the cuts. Ignos, though, warned me to wait. Told me that such ceremonies might be useful. He is right.

  I walk up the steps, the crowd cheering behind me. Today, I’m grateful. I won’t be wielding the knife. Instead, a pair of younger priests carry the burden. New ones in my order, and they’ll be doing slicing.

  I watch, and occasionally look over the sea of smiling, cheering faces, and this time when I speak the rites and prayers, I add new ones. I tell my followers to believe, to get ready, because their time is nearly here.

  Ignos is coming for them.

  2 The Hunters

  Sax admits that this is one of the prettier planets he’s ever seen. From space, the swirling whites layer over large swaths of blue give contrast with the brown and green continents. The colors of life.

  And life mixed with the Sevora means danger.

  “Briefing, how long have the Sevora been here?” Bas, his pair, asks the line of terminals in front of her rose-gold body. Much more fascinating than Sax’s own gleaming gray, one of many reasons why Sax is infinitely happy Bas shares his existence.

  They’re standing in the bridge of their craft. A shuttle they’ve been squeezed into, seeing as Oratus are massive creatures. Four clawed arms, two taloned legs, and a tail, all covered in hard scales, makes for awkward seating arrangements.

  Bas is talking to the shuttle, to a briefing program and the windshield’s sudden shimmer starts its response. The program scans its available data for an answer, then flashes green as it finds one and molds it into a conversational phrase.

  “Less than a single local orbit,” the program replies in the voice of Evva, their commander. “By conventional measures, and the estimated technological level of this planet, you have enough time to interrupt the process.”

  Sevora move quickly to establish their foothold, to capture a race and build their infrastructure. If the planet is truly primitive, it can take longer. Sax, though, is more surprised at the look of this planet than anything. Atmospheric scans and visual data indicate a world rich in resources, with a hospitable climate.

  It’s surprising the world isn’t already settled, inducted into the galaxy at large.

  “Evva, why is this an unknown planet? We’re not on the fringes.” Sax addresses the program as if he’s talking to his commander.

  It’s easier that way.

  The windshield flashes red a second later. No logged answers.

  “Transmit question,” Sax says and the program beeps acknowledgment.

  Evva’s ship is a long ways from here. Light-years. The briefing programs use quantum tuning to leap the distances - micro changes in this shuttle’s program shift the designated one on Evva’s ship - but the process takes time. Every letter of Sax’s question would be sent one by one, registered by Evva’s program, and then Evva’s answer, when she chose to send it, would be received by the shuttle in the same way.

  It’s why memory dumps are more efficient - simply spew everything about a given mission into the designated briefing program before leaping away and make it easier for the team to look things up.

  Of course, this is only necessary because the Vincere forces split up. They destroyed the last seed ship - a mobile Sevora breeding ground - and now Sax and Bas have to clean up a Sevora that escaped.

  Which is why the Oratus have come; One Sevora, left alone, can rebuild the entire race. It’s happened before.

  From orbit, they spend revolutions scanning the planet and find the only real concentration of civilization is in a broad belt just north of its equator. An East-West stretch that covers a range of climates.

  They pick up structures, movement, and even some signs of energy use. It’s strange to see life so concentrated in this one part when there’s a whole world to explore, but Sax isn’t here to ask questions. Isn’t here to learn why these people chose to do as they have. He’s here to make sure they can continue to make their own choices.

  And if they can’t, he’ll save them from that fate too.

  3 Ignos’ Bounty

  The high, healthy stalks signal a great harvest is on the way. I point across a rolling hill, covered in yellow wheat, towards a roving herd of goats farther off in the distance. There are several dozen of them, roaming around a couple of shepherds. If I had a pair of the new telescopic eyeglasses our metal-workers are making, I could likely see the silver collars around the animals’ throats, and the shock-buzzers in the shepherds’ hands.

  “Are they yours too?” I ask the man standing next to me, who laughs.

  There’s real joy in that laughter, a big-hearted chuckle that says more about the state of my people than anything else.

  “No, Empress. I tend the crops, and they tend to the goats. In exchange, I give them food and they give me milk. It works for the both of us.”

  “It works for the Charre,” Viera, standing behind me in her emerald leather armor, hand perennially on her pistol hilt, says. “Looks like you’re having quite the year.”

  The farmer laughs again, dishes Viera a knowing look to say he doesn’t begrudge his own success. “It’s been a wonderful year for everyone. Ignos has favored us, and the alchemists’ fertilizer has made our stalks grow tall, hard, and strong. This season will be the best we’ve ever had. Not one in Damantum will starve.”

  “And none of your purses will be empty,” I say. The farmer nods, but says nothing else.

  Societies must either be desperate or thriving before they’ll invest in something new. Be happy yours is on the latter side of that equation.

  “Have we seen enough for one day?” Viera asks.

  We’ve been visiting the major landholdings outside of the city. Crawling up and down the wide sloping hills and mountains that overlook the glorious metropolis that I now name my home. Damantum, city of thousands upon thousands, all of whom call me, whether they wish to or not, Empress.

  I’m still not used to surroundings of brick and stone, and the chance to get out of the city, feel the wind in the wild free air instead of the stultifying smells of sulfur and waste, has been a treasure. One I’d rather not relinquish until I have to.

  “Are there anymore?” I say, both to Viera and the farmer.

  “Depends, Empress,” the farmer says. “There’s not many who wouldn’t step outside to thank you. But most of us, especially as Ignos draws down, have to see about feeding our own families. Finishing our chores. Life out here doesn’t wait for ceremony.”

  “You’ll wait on your Empress just the same,” Viera says.

  “Of course, of course, I didn’t mean to imply any disrespect,” the farmer looks at his hands. Wrinkled and calloused, though he himself is not that old. “What I only mean to say, is my wife, my children, they will be missing me.”

  I shade my eyes, look to where Ignos is bleeding down towards the horizon. The act reminds me of the four guards standing near us. My Shadows, Malo calls them. A permanent part of my life, especially after Jakkan, the former high priest, hired assassins to kill me. Ferociously loyal, Malo says. Personally reviewed by himself. I trust them.

  I trus
t Viera too; a Lunare traitor who, nonetheless, has helped me become who I am. As I look at her, what really holds my attention, what draws a frown to my face, is the pistol looped through a leather belt on her waist.

  We are advancing through ages. Faster than you could ever imagine. Guns are a necessary evil. Simple, deadly. They’ll keep you alive long enough to get to better ways of waging war.

  Though, with the Lunare driven back, I don’t know who we’re going to be fighting against. It’s clear my people don’t either – there’s been parties in the streets. Celebrations. Trade is booming with the jungle tribes and new routes are opening to peoples in the West and North. It’s a good time to be a Charre. It’s a good time to be an Empress.

  4 First Encounter

  They land the shuttle in the dark of night over the crater where the seed crashed. Bas found the site from orbit - a rippling, fresh pit where the devastation from the strike is still visible beneath new growth.

  It’s clear to Sax, as soon as the boarding ramp goes down, that the seed hit some time ago. It’s already overgrown with small plants and ferns. Vines stretch around the mottled gray outside of the craft. A small nest of furry creature scatters as Sax claws his way to the ship.