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  “Will you tell me what this is? The great secret you claim to have?” Sax asks Avan.

  “So that you might dispatch me and deliver it yourself?” Avan gives Sax a toothy grin. “I won’t take that chance. The words come from me, or from no one.”

  “If this was your plan, then,” Bas says from across the ship. “Why try to kill us?”

  “You aren’t necessary,” Avan replies. “I would be on this ship, heading out into the battle, with or without you. If I can save our seed ship from your claws, and help my own goals in the process, then why not do so?”

  As Avan speaks, the shuttle lifts and burns out of the docking bay. Sax looks out the front window, into the laser show of the fight still underway. The four of them left the middle of the seed ship to find a way into the very heart, and now they have it.

  Avan’s promises are intriguing, of course, so Sax will see to it that the Avan will make it to Evva, but Sax also has a mission. One he will not fail.

  45 Forward March

  Jakkan waits for me at Damantum’s gates. The Emperor has assembled a vast train there, with soldiers standing in rows along with porters to carry goods. The Emperor is there as well, standing on his own chariot, to which are hitched a pair of large creatures. They’re called, so I’m told by one of the guards, oxen. Bulky beasts with horns, most are used for field duty, which is why I haven’t seen them throughout the city.

  These two, though, sport mantles of blue and gold washing down from their massive horns, across their backs and spilling into tassels down their sides. The Emperor’s chariot is opulence. Thankfully it’s a cloudy day, or I’m not sure I could stand all the flashing gold and gems.

  My spot, so I’m told, is walking next to the chariot. A place of honor, and as nobody else in the force - save Viera - is riding, I don’t begrudge the opportunity.

  We’re leaving with a purpose: to convince the Lunare that a fight with the Charre will be costly, will be terrible, and is not condoned by either their god or ours. To that end, I see a series of woven crates supported with bamboo poles stretched across the backs of Charre workers. I open one to confirm my suspicions - inside are some of the weapons we’ve been making, waiting for their chance.

  Crude, but the overall design should work. I would not be the one to pull the trigger, Kaishi. Let someone else see if it explodes.

  I have no intention of fighting the Lunare. I’m not here for a battle, and, after the Pits, have no desire to start one.

  “I have a gift for you,” Jakkan says as we say goodbyes near the front gates. I wait, but he doesn’t present anything. “Your spot. In the train. I’ve elected to stay behind in the city and give you my place at the Emperor’s side.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “I’m giving you the chance to supplant me,” Jakkan spreads a warm smile. “I’ve seen it. During these last few days especially. You are truly one with Ignos, and you deserve your place at the Emperor’s right hand. I will stay away to watch the two of you grow a great empire and will serve you as best I can. Right now that means taking care of our city and carrying on the work that you started. Destroy the Lunare, Kaishi, and bolster the Charre with their bones.”

  “Destroy?” I haven’t heard Jakkan use such harsh language, but there’s anger in those words. Pride too. “I think we’re going to negotiate. To convince them to leave Charre alone.”

  Jakkan laughs. “With the Lunare? The Emperor is bringing you on this journey for a reason, Kaishi. To see that no civilization, no upstarts from the mountains, dare provoke us. They will either run, or the Emperor will see them crushed.”

  I’m stunned by the admission and can’t think of anything to say. My expression only delights Jakkan further, and he leaves me then, staring after him as he gathers followers to wave at our march from the gates.

  Come now. You can’t really be surprised? What is the point of power if not to destroy your enemies and raise up your allies?

  I’ve driven a knife through flesh and bone. My words have brought about at least one death. My hands are not clean. But those were my choices, and I knew the consequences. If Jakkan is right, then what I’ve been helping the Charre make will result in conquest, in fire and death.

  Either you or them, Kaishi. Do not be so naive. Think of how far you’ve come.

  I do, and feel like retching.

  When the horns sound to march, I’m alongside the right ox and one of its large, brown eyes stares back at me. It’s in shadow as the Ignos’ morning light hits the other side of the beast’s long head, and in its iris I see a warped reflection of myself. I’m wearing my finery; the green headdress and bright cape, my mosswrap is back at the Vaos, not fit for a high priestess.

  I don’t know who I’m looking at.

  “You seem distracted,” The Emperor, above me in his chariot and adorned in all sorts of glittering, blue and gold robes, says. “Are you not honored to be on this great and glorious march?”

  “I’ve never marched with an Emperor before. It’s overwhelming.” I say something to say something.

  The Emperor chuckles, then raises his right hand. At the signal, horns blow again and the column begins to march. Thousands of warriors with all manner of skins on their shoulders. Servants, porters, cooks and caretakers mix in. For the first time I feel what it is like to move with an army, to be a part of something so large and in motion. The thunder and rhythm.

  It almost lets me forget what Jakkan said.

  Almost.

  After an hour without conversation, the Emperor turns back to Damantum and I follow his gaze, careful to keep my march steady. The walls stand tall. People are on top of them, still waving at the departing army’s snake. “All of them believe in us, Kaishi. It can be hard to leave under the weight of so many expectations, but you will get use to it. Our mission demands it. Ignos demands it.”

  “Jakkan says you want to kill them.” I can’t keep from asking anymore. “The Lunare?”

  “As they wish to own us,” the Emperor replies. “I am the chosen one. There can be no other ruler. The Lunare proclaim themselves the divine people. How can I allow such a thing? How can my people keep their faith when such blasphemies stand?”

  “So death is the only way?”

  “If the rumors are true, the Lunare leader will offer another path to us, only to stab us in the back should we choose to walk it.” The Emperor shakes his head. “They conquer through lies as well as force. Any negotiation will end in blood, one way or another.”

  After the rest of the morning bleeds away with footsteps, the troops at the front announce a halt. Other, friendly forces are coming. The new warriors resolve themselves into Malo and his band, returning from Damantum’s outer villages, and coming back with foul news.

  “They’re falling before the Lunare,” Malo explains to the Emperor while I listen. “Some try to fight, but give in when the Lunare spit their fire. Others don’t even bother. They bow and scrape. Trade freedom for their lives. Embrace Lunare’s rule, and march with them.”

  After the briefing, I excuse myself from the Emperor’s company and find Malo back with Viera, near the rear of the column and being pulled along on a small cart. Malo greets me with a soft smile. “So you found her.”

  “She lives,” I say, and seeing the two of them together brings unexpected heat. “With no help from you.”

  Malo nods. “The woman is an enemy. She deserves what came to her.”

  “She promised to save me. Just as you did.”

  Malo hesitates, then reaches into his belt, unhooks Viera’s weapon. Places it on the cart next to the Lunare.

  “I hope she still can.” Malo leaves before I can say another word, vanishing back into the press of troops.

  That one is moody. Though I think he still means you well.

  There are thousands of people here. I believe I can count on two of them, and one of those is still lying in a cart, eyes closed and broken.

  When the horns blow to resume the march, I leave Viera’s side and head back to the front.

  “Tonight,” the Emperor says when I’ve rejoined my place. “You will demonstrate your miracles. Make sure they work as Ignos demands. When we meet the Lunare, there will be no room for failure.”

  46 Split

  The movements need to be precise. Use every moment. Sax seeks out their eyes.

  The shuttle coasts free of the seed ship, and as the craft leaves the sliding plates and their magnetic field behind, it lurches. The Flaum, sitting on the couches, jostle from side to side. Their hands leave the hafts of their miners to steady themselves. Sax sees Avan notice. Sees Avan’s mouth open, his warning shout begin.

  Too late.

  Across the shuttle, Bas strikes at the Flaum on both sides of her. Two claws on her left, two claws on her right, each with three sharp razors raking at their targets. Going for the miners, for the hands reaching towards them. Lan and Gar do the same, as does Sax. A simple grab, clench, and tear. Now without arms of their own, the Flaum freeze in shock.

  “What are you doing?” Avan finally finishes his exclamation.

  The Sevora tries to rise, but unlike Sax and the others, whose tails don’t interfere with their legs, Avan’s inexperience makes the action difficult. Unwieldy in the low gravity.

  Sax springs towards the shuttle’s ceiling, catches himself on the inside hull with his claws, then launches back down at Avan. As the captured Oratus makes it to his feet, Sax slams into him, knocking the creature to the ground. Each of Sax’s claws pins one of Avan’s, while Sax’s tail goes over his shoulder and wraps itself around Avan’s throat.

  “Do not struggle,” Sax says. “The shuttle is ours. You have no reason to die for it.”

  Though Sax keeps his eyes on Avan, he can hear the sounds from the cockpit. Panicked squeaks from the Flaum, and the subsequent orders from Lan to turn the shuttle up and around. Orders Lan finishes with a simple statement: if the Flaum and the Sevora in their heads obey, then Lan and Gar won’t tear them all to pieces where they sit.

  Bas joins Sax, holding a pair of the heavy miners in her arms and pointing them down at Avan.

  “Why haven’t you finished him?” Bas asks. “He is an abomination.”

  Sax tightens his tail around Avan’s throat to keep the Sevora from getting any ideas, and looks at his pair. “He states that he has valuable information that could change the course of the war. I can’t take the chance that he is not lying.”

  “We cannot take him with us. He won’t sit quietly while we destroy the ship.”

  “No. Which is why Gar and Lan will take him to Evva. She’ll decide whether his information is worth his life.” Sax turns back to Avan. “I offer you this, Sevora. A journey to our side. A chance to tell your tale. Will you accept?”

  “That is what we were doing, before you murdered my crew,” Avan says once Sax loosens his tail enough so the Sevora can speak.

  “And that is what you will continue to do. Bas, ready one of the evac mods. We’ll use that.”

  Bas hisses her dissent. “Reckless, Sax. We can guide the shuttle in. Its size alone guarantees damage to the seed ship’s core.”

  Avan’s eyes flick between them, wide, red, and shivering. Sax ignores him, “You heard me, Bas. Until the mission ends, I make the call. Ready the mod.”

  “What are you trying to do?” Avan asks, but Sax doesn’t respond.

  He watches Bas for a moment, making sure she actually goes to the evacuation module’s door and begins punching in the commands to ready the craft. Bas does what Sax asks, though Sax knows he’ll catch many mouthfuls about it later.

  If there is a later.

  “Gar, Lan,” Sax announces. “You will fly the shuttle back to Evva. Make sure Avan gets a chance to tell his promised story. If it fails to justify his existence, I trust you will rend the skin from his bones. Now, you will bring the shuttle across the center of the seed ship. Bas and I will use the evac mod to make our assault.”

  The two Oratus greet the command with silence. Sax refuses to turn his head away from Avan - the body of an Oratus is a weapon, and Sax dares not it out of his sight.

  “We will honor your command, Sax, even if we don’t understand it,” Lan finally says.

  “You see, Sevora?” Sax hisses after Lan speaks. “We are loyal without control. Without giving up our bodies to your parasites.”

  “I am trying to save my species.” Avan, for the first time, sounds broken.

  “Until you convince me otherwise,” Sax says. “It is my goal to destroy it.”

  Gar approaches then, trading watch on the pilots with Lan, and places a clawed hand on Sax’s shoulder. Without speaking, the two exchange positions, with Gar holding Avan against the ground and wrapping his own tail around the Sevora’s neck. Only when Sax stands and heads towards the evac mod, does Gar say anything, “You are taking my blood, brother.”

  “I shall spill enough for both of us, brother,” Sax replies, as custom demands. The answer satisfies Gar, who focuses on his prisoner. Sax knows the Oratus won’t move from that position until something blows him away or they land on the Vincere ship.

  “The launch window is approaching,” Lan announces from the cockpit. “Get ready.”

  Bas waits inside the cramped evac mod, the benches inside too small for her body. Sax joins her, squeezing into the opposite side. Their tails meet in the middle, looping around each other. Without any sign, any words or glances, Sax puts his claws out and Bas clasps them with her own. She accepts his apology, forgives the harsh words, and they promise to fight together through whatever is coming, all with a touch.

  So it is with one’s pair.

  The evac mod has no windows. Shielded with thick metal to block both the heat from an atmosphere, radiation from outside space, and the inevitable impact a jettison from a crashing ship would cause, the evac mod serves a singular purpose: to get its passengers to their destination alive.

  So when Sax shuts the door behind him with a simple press of the two-button control panel, the two of them wait for Lan to get the shuttle in the right position without worry.

  They will have one shot at this. A speeding projectile aiming directly at the heart of the seed ship. Miss, and they will either crash elsewhere and be stuck in the same plight as before, or they could burn through the ship entirely and fall into the crushing gravity of the giant orange planet.

  A shunt sounds. A moving of metal. The brief wail of an alarm.

  No other clue announces the evac mod leaving the shuttle. No other sensations bleed through to the two Oratus that they are now in motion.

  They fly in silence.

  47 Testing Miracles

  That night, as an endless number of campfires illuminate the desert around us, I gather with a group of Charre warriors, including Malo, to run a final test on what the Cache has given us.

  Four woven boxes are arrayed in a half circle on the edge of the army camp, with nothing but sand on the other side. Nomis’ light shimmers from above, mixing with the flickering orange to cast our shadows out beyond.

  As the warriors watch, I go to the first crate and open its lid. Inside appear to be blades. The same black-glass that marks the sacrificial knives. Only these blades are loosely connected. A single long central fiber runs between them, flexible and twisting. It ends in a sturdy grip of wound rope, with a soft bulge on the underside. I take hold of it, and lift it out. It’s long; almost twice my height, and the weapon coils around my feet. Despite the sharp blades, the device is light. Easy to hold.

  “This is called a shard,” I say, remembering the name from what the Cache told me. “You can whip it at your enemies, like this.”

  I heft the shard and snap it forward, cutting back with my hand at the last instant to crack the blades. They slash forward, biting through the air and clashing against each other, throwing sparks. Vicious, but not all that different from the kukri they hold already.

  Until I use the trick.

  I twist my wrist so everyone can see the small orb attached to the end of the shard’s grip. “Here, however, is the secret. Squeeze this. A little bit of oil will leak down through the fiber and onto the glass blades. Then all you need to do is crack it again.”

  I do what I say. Squeeze the pump and sheen coats the rope’s fibers. I crack the shard again. Sparks fly as the black-glass clacks. Only this time the sparks catch fire. Soon the entire rope, except the handle, is aflame.

  “See how it burns, but the fiber beneath does not?” I say. “You can strike fear into their hearts. Over and over again.”

  I let the whip settle into the sand, the dirt snuffing out the remnants of the fire. The expressions on the warriors’ faces are suitably impressed, though they’re not amazed yet. An interesting weapon, but hardly a divine miracle.

  I’m just getting started.

  From the next crate, I pull out something very similar to Viera’s pistol. A wooden stock in a metal frame.

  “The Lunare will load a black powder into their weapons before they fire. This will give us an opportunity. Whether to strike with our hands, or with these,” I lift the weapon, aim into the distance, and pull the trigger.

  With a pop, the gun makes a loud noise. My shoulder rocks back, but I ignore the bruising, the brief bite of pain as the weapon kicks into me. No time for that now. “Rather than packing the powder into the weapon, we pack it into the ammunition. Press the trigger, you strike the shot and it explodes forward. Each of these can hold twelve at a time.”

  What I don’t say is that the entire Charre army only has three of the guns. Their point, after all, is not to decimate an army but to show that a fight would be fruitless. Too costly for either side. At least, that’s what I hope.