Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy) (4 page)

Some help from somewhere at some point would be wonderful, so why not this, and why not here, and why not now? Stella walked up to the pulsing crystal obelisk, and noticed how its light mixed with the blue from the walls to create a deep, rich purple that almost felt...warm! She could feel powerful heat radiating from it! She took off her gloves and held up her bare hands less than a meter from the shimmering surface. Yes!

“We've got heat, Mtumba!” she cried with joy.

“What?” he asked as he walked up to join her. “This is amazing...I can't believe you actually found us a heater!” he said, bewildered as he noticed the distinct change in temperature by the strange crystal. “Wait...what's inside-”

“It's heat, Mtumba!” she said excitedly, and snapped open a bag of dried rations to celebrate. She unwrapped a nutrient bar and broke it in half to share it with her friend. They both took big bites, grateful for the sweet sustenance.

They sat down about a meter from the glowing red crystal, and Stella felt a yawn. Mtumba glared at her and stifled a yawn of his own.

“I'm going to try getting some sleep,” Stella said as she lay down. It had been a hard day, and she was beyond tired...far too exhausted to worry about anything else right now. She decided they simply had to accept the risks that came with sleeping in a place like this.

Mtumba watched his strange new friend close her eyes as his own exhaustion crept in with another yawn. He wished he could tell this girl about the crystals...how they sang to him and his people, and how the music in this place was singing a strange, ancient song that he'd only heard stories about before now. He couldn't tell her about any of it though, and it wasn't right to try. She wouldn't understand.

So, as he kept watch over her, Mtumba held his wimbaji mawe...the sacred singing stone he'd received to help him through his wadi ajali. He'd been about to begin the sacred vision quest before his family had been removed from Kaj.

One of the kingdom companies decided that it wanted to extract the valuable chrystum around Mount Kanji, and then suddenly, the Turami were living on valuable property...property they couldn't prove legal ownership of...but it was land his tribe had lived on for hundreds of generations. His family's home, he thought as he yawned and felt his heavy eyes flutter from exhaustion.

Then Mtumba saw his family again. They were smiling around the warm fire, and his older brother laughed at a joke as his mother passed the gumali to their grandfather...

And so the children dreamed.

The soaring spires of the Prime Citadel looked low and small through the wall of energy-glass in Regent Varion's office. He stood as a proud monument of aristocracy, statuesque in his high-necked silver collar and black overcoat. Some called him the Plenipotentiary, but he would quickly correct them. As Regent, he was only enacting the will of the High King in his absence, not entitled to make his own plans for the kingdoms. That had allowed Varion, of course, to do essentially whatever he wanted as Regent. Amazing how much a small dash of humility could achieve toward granting political largesse.

Varion pressed his fingers to his aching temples to quell another of those blasted headaches before it got out of control. Couldn't afford to make any mistakes today. He had too many moving pieces to keep track of. He sighed, and resigned himself to the discomfort. In a foul mood, his attention drifted back to the voices of his ministers. One by one, they summarized their sectors' reports. The Brigadier Empire's recent dragon incidents had seen an uptick at the borders of the uncharted territories. That would change soon enough.

Nearly everything was in place to allow for a declaration of war. The proper senators had all been bribed or coerced as was necessary, and the rebellions at the borders of the uncharted territories were essentially under control. There was that one last loose end to tie up out there, he reminded himself as he checked on the status of the contracted op.

It looked like they would be able to keep the delicate event silent with some reconditioning at the reeducation facility, and that meant they could move forward with confidence. He smiled to himself as he considered what he was about to achieve. The propaganda machine was telling everyone what to think, and that would help ensure that the people fell perfectly in line. A terrified populace was easily led.

So, he had encouraged the masses to become terrified, and maintained a steady broadcast of footage that showed dragon attacks on merchant and civilian vessels across nearly all the primary systems. As the High King's trusted Regent, he was prepared to lead them into a glorious future with a firm, guiding hand. Not like the distant High King, who was gone on yet another of his retreats from the public eye. He could stay there forever, and Varion hoped he would. Lord knows the Regent had done everything he possibly could to encourage it.

That old fool had been out of touch with the people for decades. How could he not be? The man was a living relic of a bygone era, Varion sneered. Like someone's grandfather, only a hundred times worse. He laughed to himself, which caused one of his aides to skip a beat in their recitation.

The slip drew Varion's ire. This was an important moment in history! He could not afford anyone on his staff who wasn't able to keep up the pace. That aide was getting old, anyway. What was his name? Qortus? Had they been friends, once? His head throbbed at him, and he could not seem to recall much about the man.

He snapped for his guards, and they removed the gray-haired minister for reeducation. The poor man seemed utterly terrified, but Varion was unmoved by the emotional display. As were the rest of his ministers, thankfully. Only one out, today, then.

He smiled, and noted that soon it would be a moot point for them anyway. Reeducation, or mental reconditioning, was something that kept everyone performing at the top of his or her capability. Qortus would emerge from it as a truly changed man, and everyone else would be reminded of it every time they saw him. Unfortunate that it caused people to burn out after a few applications. Something about the mind being stretched too far. Still, fear, it turned out, was an excellent motivator when used correctly.

As if to prove the point, the next minister stepped in seamlessly, and continued reading their own sector's litany of crimes perpetrated by the dragons or dragon kin upon the citizens of the Brigadier Empire. These files would surely sway the rest of the House of Lords to endorse his campaign into the uncharted territories. Perhaps they could even discover the home world of those horribly annoying, yet admittedly useful, beasts. Then, perhaps, he would be the next High King. Varion smiled to himself. He had a very good feeling about this.

As expected, he soon received a coded cue from his earbud alarm, and without bothering to excuse himself, Varion abruptly turned from the window and walked out of the room and boarded his private yacht.

Soon he was flying toward the House of Lords, and behind him, he could hear the massive explosion of his office tower. Varion turned on the news, and calmly watched the debris fall. He relaxed into the opulent comfort and safety of his yacht, and prepared to make an official statement.

He signaled his earbud, and a light-screen was projected in a semicircle around his face. It would pick up every nuance of emotion and conviction that he had always conveyed so well. He had a unique gift for connecting with people. Always had.

“My friends,” he began into the screen, his face and voice now on all the official news stations. “I hope that what I have to tell you will not break your hearts, for it cut me deeply when I heard about it mere moments ago...”

He paused, took a thoughtful breath, and allowed his eyes to cloud over. “I have just discovered that I...we...lost many dear friends...in what all our evidence suggests was a cowardly attack by dragon sympathizers. The danger these draconian criminals pose to our children's futures has been made painfully clear. It is time to rip them from the shadows where they hide. We must root them out and force them to pay for their crimes!”

Varion focused his gaze into one of determination. “As your Regent, I promise you that I will not rest until you and your families are safe and every last dragon...and dragon sympathizer...is purged from our homelands!” As he had predicted, his approval rating was bolstered by every word.

Regent Varion cued the prepared footage of dragons as they destroyed a defenseless merchant-class vessel in the Gann Province. The ship's blazing explosion was followed by the telltale spectral implosion that marked it as a draconian attack. Behind the subsequent footage of refugees and wounded soldiers, he continued to speak. “This is what we have at risk! Our children, our elders, our families, our brave men and women in uniform whose only crime is wanting to defend our freedom in the stars!”

Powerful music crescendoed behind him, and lent its weight to his words. “We cannot let those who would destroy our way of life corrupt us from within anymore! We must demand that The House of Lords do its duty, and pass legislation that will pluck this poisoned thorn from our fair civilization!”

He cut the feed, and watched as his popularity surged higher than any Regent in recent memory. He nodded with satisfaction as he sent off a quick message, and took a refreshing sip of crisp Aspirian wine. “Excellent vintage,” he murmured into the plush cabin.

Varion smiled as he surveyed the carnage below him that used to be his office. He signaled his ship's computer with his earbud, and two beautiful female slaves were brought in for him to celebrate his recent political victory. One looked frightened, and the other dejected. Might still be some spirit left in that one, he mused. He smiled at them, and they seemed to relax until he took out the shock-wand.

Quinn looked across the hot, filthy bar at the hazed-out dancers and shook his head, unsure why he'd agreed to meet in such a dive. Bio-alters, every one of them, and not voluntarily, if he had to guess. Apparently, human trafficking was alive and well out in the border country. Well, he'd seen worse during his three tours with the Knights, and he didn't have time to do anything about it right now. Maybe some other time, he thought. Not as if they were going anywhere, he thought sourly as he took a deep draught of ale from his thick mug.

His head was still spinning after what he'd experienced on the dark moon of Irlanni, and he struggled with keeping the news to himself. It had been strangely enlightening and horrifying at the same time. He was consumed with an itching compulsion to share it with someone, but his handler had assured him that for now, he needed to wait.

The news was important, but they didn't want to incite unrest in the population. His report had apparently attracted the attention of the Regent himself, and it was determined that they needed to go through official channels to avoid panic. It could make things easier, he allowed with some skepticism.

How, Quinn wasn't rightly sure, but he granted that it was possible, and he didn't understand wishy-washy things like political psychology or socioeconomic analysis. He was just an old warrior, but at least he was good at that. Therefore, he granted that waiting it out might be the right approach for now. He wasn't willing to wait very long though.

More importantly to Quinn, he didn't want to be branded as a lunatic or a traitor. That was a distinct possibility if people considered him Dragon-kindred, even taking into account his honorable service as a Brigadier Knight. Dragon-kindred. The idea still made him itch.

He just felt so far out of his depth, but this information could change the face of the Empire, he reminded himself. Could save a lot of innocent lives. Therefore, in exchange for a meeting with the Regent, he'd agreed to do just one more mission. His handler mentioned that it would be helpful for laying a positive foundation for his meeting with the Regent. Quinn's thoughts were cut short when a slim hooded figure slinked toward his table from the deep shadows at the back of the room.

“Finally!” he muttered as he wiped his mouth with a meaty fist.

The hooded figure looked like a woman, if he had to judge by the graceful athletic gait. “You have it with you?” he whispered in the raspy voice he'd developed from years of barking commands.

The mysterious visitor slid a metachip-ring across the table, and Quinn quickly put it on to begin the synch with his earbud. He looked around to make sure no one had seen the transaction.

The earbud's optical screen blinked once during the transfer, but it didn't happen again so he shrugged it off. Must be a big file. His scan of the room showed that no one seemed to be watching, but he was still annoyed by the woman's carelessness. He shook his head. In a few hours, he'd be in a different system, and the small indiscretion wouldn't matter.

“So you have everything you need?” the figure asked in a mech-distorted voice. Yeah, it was probably a woman. Men didn't usually bother with that kind of thing. Quinn nodded, and then knocked back the rest of the swill in his heavy mug before standing up to leave, revealing his dominating physique.

“Good as done,” the large Knight replied. The visitor shifted in her seat as he towered over her. She must not be used to dealing with people like him. Maybe she was new. Nothing he hadn't encountered before, though.

Veterans of the Brigadier Knights made a lot of people uneasy, especially if the person knew to whom they were talking. Some of the more well known among his brothers-in-arms even had devoted fan followings. Possibly even a cult or two, somewhere, if you could believe the idle talk he'd overheard after missions.

You tended to win some friends among the thrill-seekers when your Fist of Knights was registered as having taken down a dragon with nothing more than your flight armor and shock-lances. Of course, most people were just afraid of men like him, and thought the Knights were completely insane. Those same people slept safe in their homes because of the men they feared so much. He couldn't help but notice the irony.