Bane of the Dead (Seraphim Revival Book 1) (21 page)

Still the Original Eleven refused to speak.

“Venerable masters, if the pilot Azeal is a threat to Aktenzek, we must know. Please, at the very least, share with us your reasons for silence. It is unprecedented that you would deny us knowledge we need.”

Vorin let the words hang in the air. A ripple of activity spread through the auditorium’s stands. Groups of past sovereigns were becoming restless and even angry at the Original Eleven’s refusal to share.

But there was nothing they could do beyond wait for the Original Eleven’s deliberations to end.

***

Veketon took one long look at this upstart sovereign and the stands full of irritating rabble before turning back to his ten colleagues.

“They’re a restless bunch of peasants, aren’t they?”

“We must salvage this situation,” Dendolet said.

“Yes, but how?” asked Balezuur, appearing as an old bearded man with diagonal stepping patterns of white and black across his cloak.

“What right do they have to demand information from us?” Veketon said. “We should send them on their way and be done with it.”

“That would only deepen their resolve,” Dendolet said.

Veketon glanced at Dendolet, then at the other nine faces looking at him expectantly, for he was their leader and had set them down this path all those eons ago.

“Hmm. Yes, you are correct,” Veketon said. “This rabble is now driven by fear of the unknown, and that fear must be redirected somewhere constructive. But how best to do it?”

“Do you mean to reveal our secrets?” asked Xixek, a woman clad in a flowing white gown with thorn-like patterns of black at her cuffs and hem.

“Perhaps.” Veketon tapped his lips with a finger. “Naturally, we must continue to hide as much as possible. If we reveal too much, then our other manipulations will begin to unravel. We shall deal with this matter carefully.”

“Perhaps a measured bit of fact is in order,” Dendolet said. “I see no reason to believe these peasants know anything about the Great Mission or the Grendeni origins. Even if we reveal the truth about Vierj, I doubt they will see the connections.”

“Do not be overconfident,” Veketon said. “Our web of lies is dangerously close to crumbling. If we reveal anything to this rabble about Vierj, it could set them searching along unexpected paths. It is foolhardy to reveal our manipulations, especially when our experiments are so close to success.”

“Your fears are somewhat premature,” Dendolet said. “Even if someone suspects we created the Grendeni, how would they prove such a radical claim? The war has gone on for so long that its genesis is lost to all but us.”

“True,” Veketon said. “And though we have had difficult moments in this long war, the rationale for creating an enemy remains just as true. Creating the Grendeni and sustaining the war provided an ideal environment for us to continue our research. But, all our struggling means nothing if we do not complete our work before these peasants find out.”

“We have long known this moment would come,” Dendolet said. “Vierj’s return was inevitable. Though the timing is… most inconvenient, especially when the products of this false Mission are so near fruition.”

Veketon shook his head. “To think that we would actually succeed in creating another one, only to make the same critical error.”

“We did not foresee the consequences of removing the seraph’s limiters,” Dendolet said. “We thought no one was capable of surviving such an ordeal, since all our previous attempts had failed.”

“At the time, Pilot Donolon’s strength nearly exceeded our own when we lived,” Balezuur said. “We should have anticipated he’d survive the merger.”

“Regardless, we have failed to foresee much,” Veketon said. “To think that both those failures would unite. We chased Jack Donolon away too quickly.”

“We could not control him, as we could not control Vierj,” Dendolet said.

“Veketon, what do you believe those two are planning?” Xixek asked.

“We’ve known what Vierj wanted ever since Ittenrashik fell and became Imayirot,” Veketon said. “Is it not obvious those two seek the Homeland Gate?”

“But what possible motivation could Jack Donolon have for seeking the Homeland Gate?” Dendolet asked.

“Unknown. Perhaps he seeks it for Vierj’s sake.” Veketon shook his head, unsatisfied with his own answer. “It does not matter. I believe they will seek out the Homeland Gate. And that means they will come here, to Aktenzek.”

“Even if those two failed experiments attack us here, we are not defenseless,” Dendolet said. “We have the seraphs and Aktenzek’s temporal shielding.”

“We should still plan for the worst,” Veketon said. “We cannot rely solely on Aktenzek’s defenses to stop Vierj.”

One of the Eleven cleared his throat and grinned. “Ahh, but what is life without its little challenges?” said Ziriken, Eleventh of the Eleven.

A wave of painful groans spread around the circle as they all glared at their most eccentric member.

“Must I continually remind you that we are dead?” Dendolet breathed.

“You are not helping matters, Ziriken,” Veketon said. “Shut up or I
will
purge you this time.”

“My apologies. It just occurred to me how exciting these next few days might be.”

“Veketon, they are becoming quite agitated,” Dendolet nodded towards the vast crowd of Aktenai sovereigns. “We should finalize what we are going to tell them.”

“I will handle this.” Veketon stepped out of the circle and walked towards Vorin. He stopped and spoke in a booming voice that filled the Great Hall. “We have finished our deliberations.”

Vorin bowed deeply towards Veketon. “Venerable master, will you now reveal to us what you know?”

“First, let me state this.” He traced his gaze across the stands. “We do not make this announcement easily, for we ourselves were in doubt until recently. However, upon careful consideration of the evidence at hand, we, the Original Eleven of the Aktenai, are prepared to reveal our discovery to you. And so it is with absolute certainty that I announce the following: this pilot Azeal is none other than our greatest enemy, the Bane of Ittenrashik!”

Cries of shock and disbelief erupted across the listening sovereigns. The entire Great Hall filled with thousands of agitated and frightened conversations. Vorin himself looked sick to his stomach.

“We regret the delay in revealing this information to you, our faithful servants,” Veketon said. “But I am sure you understand we could not make such a monumental announcement casually. We, the Original Eleven, appreciate your understanding and your patience.”

Veketon turned away from the stunned audience and returned to the circle of founders.

“A small drop of truth for a group of small minds,” Dendolet said.

“This is a necessary risk,” Veketon said. “Besides, letting them know who Vierj is may increase Aktenzek’s chances of survival when she finally attacks.”

“But, Veketon,” Balezuur said, “it may lead them to discover that pilots—”

“No, I seriously doubt that, though I share your concern. Regardless of what is to come, we must be prepared. We should make arrangements for leaving Aktenzek.”

“But where to?” Xixek asked.

“Zu’Rashik, the fortress planet under construction. That is our path of retreat if all turns against us.”

The other founders nodded cautiously.

“In preparation,” Veketon said, “we must move the thrones and our other research material to Zu’Rashik.”

“The thrones are not ready for deployment,” Dendolet said.

“No, they are incomplete. That does not make them useless in combat. And, I fear, we may need their power.”

“But releasing them is dangerous. They are uncontrollable, even psychotic in some cases. We dare not use them.”

“We may not have a choice,” Veketon said. “But this is only a precaution. With fortune on our side, no one will ever know about the thrones until it is too late.”

“Despite what we learned from Jack Donolon’s seraph,” Dendolet said. “We have not perfected how to transfer our personalities to the thrones.”

“We have waited millennia for our divinity,” Veketon said. “We can wait a little longer.”

***

Quennin sat with all the
Resolute
’s pilots, medics, technicians, and even the Renseki in the recreation center. Vorin’s hologram shimmered within a rough ring of tables, resplendent in his gold-trimmed coat-of-office as he explained the situation simultaneously to all Aktenai pilots across the fleet. They hung on his every word in breathless silence.

Azeal is the Bane!
Quennin thought, grasping her trembling hands. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

A part of her didn’t want to believe it, but the Original Eleven had spoken and had set all doubts aside. The seraph squadrons not only faced the traitor Jack Donolon and the hordes of archangels, but also the greatest foe the Aktenai had ever known.

Seth sat next to her, his fists clenched in rage. She rested a hand on his, understanding his anger all too well.

“It wasn’t enough that he killed our son,” Seth whispered, breathing in angry huffs.

“All seraph squadrons and fleet elements are being recalled to Aktenzek,” Vorin said. “We have reason to believe an attack of enormous proportions is imminent, and we believe the Bane will participate. Those who can, return to us as quickly as possible.”

The hologram flickered and vanished.

“Seth?” Quennin put a hand on his shoulder.

Seth stood quickly, face twisted in anger. His chair clattered to the ground behind him, and he walked out of the room.

Quennin watched him go and almost followed, but she knew Seth preferred to sort out his emotions alone, at least until some of the heat left his mind.

All six of the Renseki sat one table over from Quennin. Yonu had joined her parents there and now stood.

“Okay, not to put too fine a point on this, but how are we supposed to stop the Bane?” Yonu asked. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t have any idea how we’re expected to beat this thing. This is the same creature that destroyed Imayirot, and it’s coming after Aktenzek! Maybe some of you are made of sterner stuff than me, but I’m
terrified
by what that means!”

Quennin stood, her fingertips resting on the tabletop. “You are forgetting one very important thing. This is our purpose. This is what we have trained for all our lives. We as seraph pilots are the only people capable of stopping the Bane. Even though we’ve spent most of our lives fighting the Grendeni,
this
is what we were all born to do! To complete our Great Mission! To finally defeat the Bane!”

“And yet, a seraph pilot has allied himself with the Bane,” Yonu said.

The memory of Tevyr’s seraph being cut down stung Quennin’s mind, and she looked away.

“I know. All I can say is we here are still true to the Great Mission, and it is our duty to carry it out.”

Yonu sat down. Quennin saw a tentative hand go up from the EN table. The pilot seemed nervous, as if the very act of asking his question might be an insult.

“Yes, Pilot Daykin?” Quennin said.

Jared stood up. “Now, I hope I’m not making a fool of myself by doing this. Most of you Aktenai may find this question disturbing, but please bear with me.”

“Of course, pilot. What do you need?”

“This is just for my own personal benefit, since I’m a simple guy from Earth,” Jared said. “But could someone
please
tell me what this Bane actually is and how we’re supposed to beat it?”

Several Aktenai stared at him in disbelief, but Quennin nodded, expecting this. Earthers did not share Aktenzek’s long history, nor were they required to learn it as children. Concepts like the Great Mission, the horror of Imayirot’s destruction, and the Bane’s terrifying power were still foreign concepts to them, yet so important to what went into being Aktenai.

“The Bane is a creature that the Original Eleven and their followers, the Aktenai, created,” Quennin said. “It is our great sin, and it became our Great Mission to right this wrong. This is what it means to be Aktenai, to be one of the Forsaken. The Bane is a creature that can manipulate time, speeding its passage or stopping it entirely, and can use this ability to lay waste to entire worlds.

“Our Great Mission, the reason we seraph pilots exist, is to kill this creature unchanged by eons, to kill that which cannot be killed… for if we cannot, no one else will.”

“So, how do we kill something that can’t be killed?” Jared asked. “The Bane destroyed that gloomy planet we visited, right? What chance do we have?”

“Seraph pilots are immune to the Bane’s manipulations,” Quennin said. “Pilots and their seraphs, through the protection of their chaos barriers, cannot not be frozen in time or rapidly aged.”

Jared nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s better, I guess. The Bane may be able to slaughter everyone and everything we all care about, but at least we’ll be safe in our cockpits. We still can’t hurt that monster.”

Quennin could think of nothing to say. Jared slumped in his seat and stared glumly ahead. After that the meeting began to break up.

Four of the Renseki left, but the twins Kevik and Kiro walked over to Jared and sat with him. Despite his gloomy disposition, he seemed slightly cheered by their arrival. Quennin wondered why.

Slowly, groups of people left the rec center. Some were quiet, while others loudly discussed these revelations. Quennin followed a large group of technicians out, determined to find Seth and check on him.

As she walked through the
Resolute
’s long corridors, her mind buzzed with activity. Something about Jared’s question bothered her, though she couldn’t quite pin it down. She had never given much thought to why a seraph pilot could fight the Bane, and up until now she never had reason to. It was always a given that this final battle should be a seraph pilot’s true purpose in life.

So how can we resist the Bane’s powers?
Quennin thought.
What makes us so special? And how could anyone prove we have this ability? It’s not like there were seraphs and seraph pilots around when the Bane destroyed Imayirot. The first seraph was created two thousand years ago, eighteen millennia too late for that battle.