The following exchange was recorded between prisoners 83109 and 80113 at the Hel facility on Lokh. Most of the video captured during the exchange has been heavily corrupted and is unavailable for display. Audio is uncorrupted and will now be played.
There is a distinct patter of bare feet on cold stone. From the sound, it seems to be two men, one with a limp and significantly smaller than the second. A hard thud is heard along with the cracking of several bones. It is likely that one of the men has just been struck in the side, breaking multiple ribs.
A voice is heard. “Who do you think you are, coming into my home and telling my own men that they shouldn’t be taking orders from me?” The voice is a throaty bass, likely the larger of the men. Several more thuds and cracks are heard. The smaller man seems to be suffering a great deal of bodily damage.
Another voice is heard. “Look, I just meant that they are their own men, and they should look to the Great One for guidance here, not another man. We’re all equals here.” This voice is a soft tenor, likely the smaller man. More cracking is heard along with shouts of pain.
The first voice speaks again. “The Great One?! You think the Great One gives two flying hrags about men like us? No, we’ve got to fend for ourselves.” There is again the sound of cracking, and the shouts become screams this time. “I protect these men from the gangs! I teach them how to fight!” The screams drown out the sound of the first man’s voice again. “People like you teach them nothing but weakness.” The sound of a body falling to the floor can be heard.
The second voice laughs. “You think I’m weak? Do you even know why I’m here? I know why you’re here, 80113.” Hands can be heard sliding across the stone floor as the man on the ground tries to get up.
“Shut your mouth,” says the first voice. “You don’t know the first thing about me.” There can be heard now the sound of a blade being drawn while another slides across the stone floor. There’s a scuffling as the man on the floor tries to get up, but the sound of a blade cutting through the air interrupts it, meeting shortly thereafter a clang as the blades meet one another.
“Loriard Khuda’Feliiah, a former cargo ship offloader, was captured by the Armada yesterday for attempted assault over a dispute about a pet hrag. After resisting his capture and attempting to flee the Armadian Security Forces–” There is another clang, this one much louder. The second voice continues his recitation of the news broadcast. “His sentence was extended to four cycles in the Hel facility with no chance of parole. It is suspected he will die in the prison, where usually only the most hardened criminals are sent.” The second voice stops speaking, and for a few moments, the only sounds that can be heard are labored breathing and the sound of feet sliding across a bloody floor.
“Of course,” the second voice continued, “we both know that’s not what really happened. In reality, you were the only survivor of the ship that got hit by that pod from the alien ship that came from the other side of the Bifrost. That’s why you’re here. You’re here because you were so busy counting the guns you were supposed to be shipping to the underground Ginnung that you didn’t know the ship was coming, so when it smashed a big hole in your ship, you were still in a sealed compartment. The Armadians came through to investigate, and you were sent here.”
There is the sound of a man being picked up and thrown across the room into a wall, and there is a loud grunting as the man who was thrown has all the breath knocked out of his lungs. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” the first voice says. “I’m king here, now. I’m in charge, not you.”
There is a loud series of unpleasant-sounding snaps, cracks, and pops, and the man who had been thrown seems to be standing up slowly against the wall. “Do you want to know why I’m here, Loriard? I’ll tell you why.”
Video corruption ends here. Video will now be displayed.
A large man is propped against the wall, blood staining his ragged clothes, his breath weary and drawn out. Across the room, standing straight, is a short man with what seems to be a large, metal cuff on one leg, stopping just short of the top of the foot. He begins to speak. “It’s because they found out I was a Sheii’Cronell, and there’s already another one bidding candidacy to the Monarchy. There’s only allowed to be one Sheii’Cronell at a time, you see.”
In a single frame, the smaller man moves across the length of the room, thrusting his knife into the larger man’s sternum. The man falls back against the wall, his face blank as he begins to slide back down the wall to
the floor.
“I can’t be king out there,” the small man says, “but there’s no way I’m letting a weakling traitor like you stay king here.” He places his fingers over the larger man’s face, closing his dead eyes. He then takes the belt the larger man had been wearing and throws it over his shoulder. “At least I can be king here.” He walks away as guards and medical personnel are seen rushing into the room.
This concludes the recording of the exchange. No further data is found on prisoner 80113 other than a certification of death three centidays later. Prisoner 83109 is known to have been the first person to be removed from the Hel facility due to the risk of endangerment to other prisoners. Records indicate that he was transferred to Nivlahim for unknown reasons. Further records for prisoner 83109 cannot be found on the general access archives. All further information regarding 83109 is classified.
Monthly Archives: September 2012
Plans
About eight centidays after beginning, Gril’Die finished talking. The Ginnung Council sat in silence, reflecting on all the information they’d just been provided. For several millidays, the Councilors just sat at the table, fingers interlaced or drumming on the wooden table. While they thought about everything he’d just told them, Gril’Die took the time to wonder at the architecture of the room.
The Council Room was a circular room carved out of the inside of one of the Skogr Forest’s many trees. It had two windows, each about a quarter turn of the wall long. The windows were heavily latticed, so that sight was easily achieved outward from the inside, but sight was incredibly difficult to achieve inward from the outside. The wall of the room was clearly maintained with regular burning treatments to prevent the tree from growing inward again, and Gril’Die wondered just how often they had to recarve the lattices in the windows. The ceiling of the room was heavily arched, the central point at least four times higher than the wall.Gril’Die also noticed that the only door was the one leading into the lift that led back down into the city, which jutted out of the wall into the room exactly where one might expect a door leading outside to sit. Gril’Die wondered for a moment what they would do if there were a fire but was interrupted in this thought by the High Councilor, Feriadd Khuda’Salongriell, with whom he had initially spoken.
“Mi’Olnr, what do you expect us to do with all of this information?” Gril’Die snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Feriadd. Feriadd was leaning against the back of his chair with one arm, the other extended outward onto the table. Gril’Die briefly had to remember that these men were not actually politicians but rebel military leaders who were elected to their positions without campaigning. None of the men in this room cared for the pomp and circumstance that would frown on such a stance. He smiled at the thought, encouraged to be surrounded by military men instead of the politicians to which he had become accustomed on Thor. One of the men even had his feet propped upon the table.
“Well, to be quite honest, I would rather you not distribute it to common knowledge just yet, first of all.” At this, a few of the Councilors frowned, but most of them nodded in agreement. It would hardly be surprising if people reacted in a way that no one would much appreciate if they knew half of the information the Council had just been told. “Secondly, I think it would be a very good idea to destroy the Monarch’s… device.” Poison seemed to drip from Gril’Die’s voice as he spoke of the machine. He wasn’t sure how many people knew about it, but he was fairly certain that there weren’t many, though he had a feeling the Valkyries knew about it. Those women were never surprised by anything.
“And how would you propose we go about destroying said device? We don’t even know when next it will be used. Fargerre Sheii’Cronell just became the Monarch a few cycles ago. Sheii’Cronells don’t exactly age quickly.” This time, it was not Feriadd but a Junior Councilor named Qziderien who spoke. He was no older than twenty-three cycles, but he seemed to be one of the more hardened members of the Council. Based on the musculature of his neck and shoulders, he was probably an armored karlsohk pilot, which would mean he’d probably been at the front lines of several more battles than most of the men at this table had even commanded. This meant he also had a much more skeptical mindset than most of these men, making him a good counterweight on the Council. Gril’Die silently applauded the Ginnung for electing such a well-rounded government.
“That’s true, but the Monarch always wants a stronger body. If an even more powerful Sheii’Cronell were to be born, we might be able to use him to destroy the device, assuming we could get him on board with us. All we need is someone willing to reject the Monarch’s transfer without letting the Monarch catch on before the transfer was attempted. The device would be deadlocked and totally useless. All that would be left would be the Monarch himself.” Gril’Die tried his best to make this seem like a passing detail, but he knew better after the previous comment.
“I thought the device would kill the Monarch if the transfer was rejected. His mind would already be in the device when it deadlocked, right?” Qziderien was as quick to this as Gril’Die had expected.
“It was rigged that way initially, but the Monarch’s too careful, and he’s had a lot of time to learn more about that machine. The deadlock reaction couldn’t be removed, but he’s had a lot of time to figure out a way for it not to kill him. To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t kill me after I found out about the device.” That was certainly the truth. Gril’Die avoided further detail on the matter of that occasion.
“Well, we’re certainly glad he didn’t. I suspect it might have had something to do with the aliens,” Feriadd said. He was now leaning toward Gril’Die over the table, as were most of the other Council members, just as they had when he had been telling them everything he knew about the Monarch, the truth of the Fehmadadi, and the Sheii’Cronells. They had certainly reacted strongly when he got into the idea of genetic alteration. It was something very specifically forbidden in Jalihu’dai’s later sacred texts.
“Nonetheless,” Qziderien said, “how do we find a stronger Sheii’Cronell than Fargerre? He’s the most powerful one history has ever seen. And if we do, how do we get him to join the Ginnung?”
The last Councilor with his feet propped dropped them with a thud, and ever
yone looked in his direction. He had been so motionless during the entire discussion that most of them had thought he was sleeping, his bulky robes covering even his face with their large hood. He hadn’t even introduced himself when Gril’Die had begun, opting instead to sit in silence. “You just let me take care of that.” The Councilors all stood quickly but none so quick as Gril’Die. The voice had not been one of a man but a woman. Looking about the room again, Gril’Die wondered how none of them had noticed that there were only twelve Councilors, yet there were fourteen people in the room, until this moment.
The mystery woman stood slowly, her hood pulling up and away from her face a bit more. Before she even reached up to remove her hood, however, Gril’Die was fairly certain he knew who it was, though they had never met. He could see the green glow of her eyes against the dark interior of her hood as her hands came up to the edge of the hood. She pulled it off to reveal gray and blue hair that had been tightly braided and bunned to disguise her identity.
“Matriarch Khuda’Cronell, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” Gril’Die said, cutting through the apprehension in the room full of men who feared only one thing and suddenly found that thing in their midst as if it was just as at home as they were, if not more so. How she had gotten in, no one could be certain, but if Gril’Die didn’t do something fast, she may be the only one leaving it, and he was fairly sure that wasn’t her intention. “Would you care to elaborate on that last comment, please?”
Continuing to remove the heavy Councilor’s robes she had been wearing over her highly decorated Valkyrie uniform, the Matriarch spoke, “Well, you may remember setting a protocol that sent Valkyries out to that mystery beacon you found consistently over the past few dozen cycles.” Grie nodded, and she continued, ignoring the nervous Councilors as she neatly folded the robes and placed them on the table. “Good! Then I presume you’ve been receiving my reports to you on our findings there? You did mention some of those findings in this meeting, after all.”
“What’s your point, Matriarch?” Qziderien seemed to have found his voice again, and the Matriarch turned to him. He stepped back a bit as her gaze set upon him, but he stood a bit taller when he stopped.
The Matriarch smiled. “My point is that the Valkyries have been visiting a planet full of these ancient Murhan for the past several dozen cycles, which has been quite a different extent of time on the other side of the Bifrost. Valkyries aren’t exactly known for romantic indecisiveness, either. Eventually, one of them is going to find a mate, and you may recall what the Mi’Olnr just told you about what would happen if a Valkyrie reproduced with the exact same type of people who are on that planet.”
The men in the room all looked at her with a bit more surprise, if that were even possible, as they realized the extent of her words. Feriadd, nodded, his eyes narrowing as a faint smile grew across his face. “I see.”
But even the Matriarch had no idea just how soon her prediction was about to come true as Jake Kendrick began digging into a pizza in a restaraunt that was a Bifrost and several galaxies away with a Thorlinthian communicator in his pocket.
Jake
“Yes, Liha, I think you’re right,” Feri’Andi said in calm response as the Valkyries looked out the viewport at the black smoke pouring out of the building beneath them into the bright, blue sky above them. “Should we move out and put the ship elsewhere?”
Lihandii narrowed her eyes in thought for a few moments before standing and saying, “No. If we fly out now, the Valkyr will push the smoke out, and someone might notice us. I have a better idea.” She smiled at Feri’Andi in a way that said Feri’Andi wouldn’t like the plan but would have fun executing it, earning an exasperated face from her copilot.
“I swear, this planet has a bad influence on you,” Feri’Andi said. “Let me guess, you want us to go in there just so we’ll get pulled out by the firefighting robots. In case you haven’t noticed, the robotics here aren’t exactly that advanced.”
Lihandii rose her eyebrows at the suggestion. “Honestly, when did I say anything about robots? I saw a short while ago on one of the transmissions I was going through that they have people fight the infernos here.” Lihandii was very interested in the apparent physical similarity between creatures here and Thorlinthians, as well. In the same transmission to which she was now referring, she had noticed that the people on this planet, or at least some of them, looked almost identical to Thorlinthians, if more primitive. She wanted to find out why.
“Well, if we’re going out there, we can’t wear our uniforms. From what I can tell, the people are pretty paranoid about military uniforms they don’t recognize. We’d stand out a bit.” She stood and started moving aft to change into something that might be less conspicuous. Stopping just short of moving into the next compartment, she stopped. “And what do you plan on doing with Valkyr, Liha? We can’t exactly just leave it here.”
Lihandii smiled as she finished what she was doing at the controls, shutting down her screens and standing up just before Feri’Andi had had a chance to see what she was doing. “You just leave that to me. I’ve already taken care of it.” She pushed Feri’Andi lightly to get her to move, and they both went back to change.
“So, do you two ladies plan on telling us what you were doing in that building? It’s not exactly a favorite hangout for girls your age. It’s been condemned for years, and you two don’t look to be druggies or prostitutes. You’re too healthy and wholesomely dressed.” Jake Kendrick couldn’t get a word out of the girls, whose outlandish appearance and apparent inability to speak English were their only suspicious traits.
Based on where they were in the building when he and his partner had found them, he was pretty sure they hadn’t started the fire. Still, he couldn’t let them go without some sort of information, and the police were licking their lips to get their hands on the two. “Can you at least tell me your names? I need something here.”
At that, he noticed one of the girls perk up slightly. She nudged the other, who started to say something aloud before catching herself and signing something with her hands instead. This time, Jake thought he might catch something. His mother was deaf, and if that was the problem, he had it covered. He paid close attention to what they were signing between each other. It must not have been American Sign Language, though, because he barely recognized any of the signs. Still, he thought he saw them say something about fires and names.
Attempting to help out, he signed very carefully, “I need you to tell me your names, so I can let you go.” Smiling, the girl who had almost spoken earlier looked at him and signed something else. It seemed like they couldn’t quite understand where he wanted them to go. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?” He signed this out even more slowly, trying to be very obvious about what he meant. If they were homeless, it might explain what they were doing here.
The girl talking to him closed her eyes momentarily and swiped her hands in front of herself, crossing her centerline. That was a no, then. At least it seemed like they were communicating. He signed again, “Well, can you tell me your names? My name is Jake.” He said his name aloud as he signed it.
The silent girl began to say something when a police officer walked over. “Have you managed to get anything out of these two, Jake? No one else from the building recognizes them, but we’ve already got our arson. He just got caught trying to start another fire a few buildings down the same way. As soon as we get their contact information, they’re free to go.”
The officer began to walk away, but Jake said, “I think they’re homeless, Miles. And on top of that, they don’t seem to know English. I tried Spanish earlier, but they seemed even more confused, so I’m pretty sure they’re not border hoppers. They might be deaf, though. They both seemed to respond a bit to sign language.”
Miles patted Jake on the shoulder. “Well, try and get what you can. Homelessness isn’t a crime, and the building didn’t have a trespassing policy, so I don’t need ’em. I’ve got to get back on the beat.” He starte
d walking away again before calling over his shoulder, “You’re buying tonight, right?”
“Not tonight, Miles,” Jake called back. “It’s Paul’s turn. I buy next Tuesday.” He waved it off and faced the girls again. They seemed a bit tense. He signed at them, “They’re leaving. You’re not in trouble.”
“Nom edt Feri’Andi,” the silent one said, pointing at herself. She pointed at the one who had been signing with Jake earlier and said, “Nom edta Lihandii.”
Jake grinned, happy to see that he had gotten through to them. He did his best to write their names, but he was pretty sure they were both spelled wrong. “Thank you,” he signed and said aloud. “I don’t suppose you have any way for me to get a hold of you if I need to.”
Lihandii placed her hands over his ears gently and closed her eyes. For a brief moment, he thought he had heard something in his head, but it must have been his imagination. She stepped back, placing a small, metal box in his hand. It looked a bit like a communicator from Jake’s favorite science fiction show, and upon further inspection, he found it opened out just like the ones from the show. He looked up from the device to find out more, but the girls were simply gone.
Jake’s partner came walking over to let him know that it was time to go back to the firehouse. “They gone already?” Jake nodded, placing the box in his pocket. “Too bad. They were cute. I’ve got to admit, the hair was a little weird, but that shorter one’s going to be the future Mrs. Ayling. What was her name?”
“Tell you what, man. You can have the taller one. I’ve got dibs on the other one.” Jake smiled, holding his hand over his pocket.
“That’s perfectly fine by me. They were both smokin’,” Ayling said, nudging Jake as they got into the truck. “What was her name, then?” Jake handed him the paper he had written on and pointed as he leaned his head back while the truck started on its way back. “Fairy Andy? You’re screwing with me, right?”
Jake smiled again, more broadly this time. “Well, that’s what it sounded like. I didn’t exactly check the spelling. Let’s just finish up our shift. We’ve only got half an hour left, anyway. Paul’s buying tonight.” Protests were made by the driver as he heard he had to buy pizza for ten people. It was a tradition at this point, though, and the friends all had to take turns. Jake barely heard the mock argument as he tapped his fingers over his pocket, remembering the feel of those soft hands on his face. Smiling, he whispered, “Lihandii.”
The Wooden Sanctuary
When the lift opened, Gril’Die let out a light gasp as he looked upon one of the most marvelous things he’d ever seen.
Skogr City was far larger than he had ever imagined. It earned its name as a city not only in population but in sheer vastness. The wooden, domed wall that came around and over most of the city was, after all, living tree. In response to the inner light of the city, the tree wall had sprawled out into the city with branches, providing a very odd view of a tree that seemed to have been flipped inside-out. The bark was multicolored and multitextured, a result of the fact that it was, in fact, thousands of different trees pressed together naturally rather than one giant tree or cut-up wood boarded together, a practiced still used on some planets that embraced a lower-tech life.
This, however, was a highly advanced city. Pulse-cars zipped by and even a few shuttles were passing through the city’s limited airspace. The walkways were lit with a gentle light that simulated evening over the whole city right now, moving across the dome as a holographic representation of Linthia, the system’s only star. Looking about the dome some more, Gril’Die found the dim lights of the other planets and the large chunk of old Valr that Valhal had picked up and pulled into orbit after the Ragn’Rouk. Chunks of old planets like Valr served as a constant reminder to the Thorlinthian people of the Ragn’Rouk, and the light of the Bifrost in the skies served to remind them that they were, essentially, alone.
Thinking back to what had gotten him promoted to Mi’Olnr in the first place, Gril’Die frowned at the mentality of Thorlinthia. It was that victim mindset that caused the people to rally behind the destruction of an entire race of innocent people. It was the information behind that attack that Gril’Die planned to bring to the table today.
“Sir, please follow me,” said the guard beside him. Gril’Die acquiesced, allowing the guard to lead the way, knowing the guard was fully utilizing the full-angle capabilities of the helmet to keep an ever-watchful eye on Gril’Die as they walked along.
Gril’Die almost walked into the guard, stopping just in time to avoid the occasion. The guard spoke again, gesturing to the pulse-car before them. “Please get in. The people at Headquarters want to talk to you.”
Gril’Die stepped into the pulse-car, scooting along the seat as the guard followed. The inside of the vehicle was well-lit, but there were no view ports, indicating that this was a robotic pulse-car. The guard ensured that Gril’Die was seated properly before closing the door.
Once the door had closed, the pulse-car began to make the sound that earned its name as it rose up slightly, pulses of highly pressurized air pushing it into the air and forward. The pulses faded into background as the vehicle moved along, the occasional pulses of air being blown out of the sides to turn the vehicle along the streets as it moved toward an undisclosed part of the city.
Based on the number of turns, Gril’Die was fairly certain the pulse-car was following a route meant to confuse him. As it moved along, the pulses of the vehicle continued to be the only source of sound in the vehicle, a rather quiet sound at that. Gril’Die looked to the guard, who was merely looking forward, probably playing a game or taking notes with the helmet. Gril’Die’s own helmet was lowered in courtesy to show that he wasn’t presently communicating with anyone outside the city.
Finally, after several agonizingly slow centidays, the pulse car puttered to a stop, setting itself on the wooden ground. The door nearer Gril’Die opened before the guard’s door, and two more guards were waiting outside it. One reached in to help Gril’Die with getting out while the other kept a repeater trained calmly on Gril’Die, a caution Gril’Die could understand, given the location. The first guard finally stepped out of the pulse-car and said, “Come with us, sir,” before leading the way into the discrete building before them.
The building was very plain, looking similar to the buildings surrounding it, if a bit larger due to the pillar reaching up into the dome above, a rather common sight across the city. In fact, without knowing where it was ahead of time, it would probably be just about impossible to find. Well, that was probably the point, Gril’Die reminded himself before walking toward the building, the two new guards following him with their weapons trained on the back of his head.
The first guard opened the door and walked in as Gril’Die followed, leading him into a plain hallway much like the entrance to the city, though this one was wooden instead of being stonework. When they reached the end of the hallway, they all walked into another lift, which rose much more rapidly than the first one Gril’Die had taken.
When the lift opened, Gril’Die was surprised to see that they were on the surface, above the level of Skogr Lake. The lift must have been even faster than Gril’Die had suspected. As he walked out to the room awaiting him, however, the guards did not follow. As he left the lift, its door closed behind him, leaving him in the room with a handful of unarmored men who looked to be hunters or fishermen.
Just as Gril’Die began to suspect that this had been a ploy, however, one of the men spoke. “Good evening, Mi’Olnr. My name is Feriadd Khuda’Salongriell, and I am the elected leader of the Ginnung. What can I do for the Armada’s highest-ranking officer today?” Feriadd smiled at Gril’Die openly, and Gril’Die was made certain that he was hearing the truth.
“Actually,” Gril’Die said, “I’d like to do something for you.” At this, Feriadd raised an eyebrow, passing his hand over a small control panel.
The windows closed, and the light in the room dimmed, a large table and seats rising from the floor. The men in the room all began seating themselves at various spots, and Feriadd gestured for Gril’Die to sit, too. Once everyone else was seated and looking at Gril’Die, Feriadd sat and gestured with both hands to Gril’Die again. “We’re listening.”
Skogr
Fog framed the trees of the Valhallan Skogr Forest, the cold winter haze filling the gaps between the ancient trees as rain poured down over the mountainous forest. The waters from the summer-long rains over the past several hundred thousand years had filled the mountain range with waters so deep that the range had come to be known by another name: Lake Skogr. The trees in the range had gradually grown taller to keep their greenery out of the water, and many now reached higher than the icy mountain peaks surrounding the forest and holding in the lake which poured out between the freezing passes, keeping the freshwater lake from rising any higher.
The wildlife in the area was entirely arboreal or aquatic.There were even some amphibious creatures that had adapted to climb down the trees into the deeper parts of the water to hunt and retreat to the branches of the forest to eat their prey. The dark of the forest was so immense that most of the wildlife in it was blind or almost blind, eyes being useless except for about three centidays every day, when Linthia peeked beneath the canopy but above the lake’s outlets, which were the only areas that sunlight reached through the thick umbrella of the forest.
Now, the trees in the forest had mostly been carved hollow and the forest had been converted into the Capital city of the Ginnung, the main force of resistance and rebellion against the Monarchy. The unique nature of Lake Skogr was crucial in its role as a secret city.
Over the millennia, the bases of the trees had grown together into a single piece, and the roots had turned upward into the lake itself. That meant the Ginnung were able in the beginning of the rebellion to build a secret city, utilizing the pre-Ragn’Rouk tunnels under the mountains to dig up and into the trees, utilizing orbital imagery and positioning equipment, the Ginnung had been able to hollow out the trees from the bottom, leaving only sparse entrances and exits on the surface of the water to give the appearance of an exiled and rural society.
Inside the trees, the city was a vast and urban society, though all of its buildings were single, solid wood structures carved out of the trees in which they laid, which meant that regular maintenance on the city required the wood to be scraped away as it grew back. The waste was then used to produce all the city’s paper products and furnishings. All food for the city was supplied by the Skogr’s flora and fauna. Those that lived on the surface hunted and farmed for the city. All crops were grown on the edge of the lake, where the soil was rich and moist.
The Capital of the Ginnung Domain was officially on Nivlahim, but the Ginnung had long expected the Armada to find some way to raid the capital, so they had secretly carved Skogr City out of the forest. They had been right to do so, too. By the time Nivlahim had been raided by the Valkyries, the government was entirely local, the Ginnung leadership holing up on Valhalla in Skogr City. Valhalla had quickly surrendered to Armadian occupation with no resistance to mask the presence of Skogr City.
The ploy had worked. When Armadian forces had moved past Valhalla, a minimal force had been left behind to police the Valhallan Capital, Fjor’Qzcir. After only a few years, even that force had been pulled out, Valhalla intentionally presenting good behavior to hide the fact that Ginnung leadership was hidden under Thorlinthia’s largest body of freshwater.
Despite all the secrecy, though, most Ginnung agents knew about Skogr City and had even been there more than once. For Gril’Die, this meant he had only needed to break one of his many prisoners to find out what he needed to know to find them. Now, his footsteps echoed through the large stone tunnel that ran underneath the Skogr Forest. He marveled at the architectural engineering involved in such a structure as this one. Even after the Ragn’Rouk, the tunnel had managed to maintain most of its functionality, and it had been one of Valhalla’s greatest keys to readvancement after the Age of the Black, when electrical systems couldn’t operate due to the massive amounts of electromagnetic interference that had been caused by the Ragn’Rouk.
He looked down at his feet, where he could see faint displays still visible beneath the ages of dust that had accumulated in the tunnel. He stopped for a moment and crouched down, digging down to the displays with his hands. By the time he reached the display beneath him, he was reminded how much he had grown accustomed to the dim light in the tunnel when the bright light shone through the flesh of his hand, even going so far as to warm his skin slightly.
He smiled at the red light that now filled the area of the tunnel surrounding him. It was still a mystery how the ancient Linthians had managed to create displays that projected colored light instead of shining white light through a colored filter. It gave a vibrance that was unseen anywhere but in Linthian structures, where their displays still projected their light as strongly as the day they were built. Most of those locations were now considered sacred, though, so no one had been allowed to take apart most Linthian technologies.
Gril’Die stood again, walking back out into the dark of the tunnel. He remembered the description of the entrance to Skogr City that his informant had given him, and he walked confidently toward the place now, his armor clearly visible as that of the Mi’Olnr. He was hoping that his status so high in the Armada and as a personal counsel to the Monarch might give the Ginnung some hesitance before killing him, which he imagined he probably would if someone other than Ginnung entered the city unannounced.
He softened his eyes as he walked along, listening to the scrape of the dirt beneath his boots as they hit the ground. As the dark became deeper, he started once again to fear slightly for his life. Silently, he gave one more quick praise to the Great One before stepping up to a part of the tunnel wall and holding his hands out against the surface. As he had hoped, one of his hands passed through the wall before he withdrew his hands back to his sides. Sidestepping to adjust for his miscalculation in the location of the entrance, he deactivated his helmet and put his hands up against the top of his head as he walked through the dark hologram, another Linthian secret that had been stumbled upon in this tunnel long ago.
As he stepped into the brightly lit hallway, he looked to the end with his eyes slightly scrunched in reaction to the sudden increase in light. There were two guards looking directly at him with repeaters calmly trained on him. “Who are you, how did you find this place, and what are you doing here?” The guard on the right had spoken, the interrogation coming out with a cool fluidity that convinced Gril’Die this was standard procedure and not a moment of panic.
“My name is Gril’Die Khuda’Mundi,” he said. “I am the Mi’Olnr of Thorlinthia, I learned of this place from a prisoner of war I freed long ago, and I’m here to sign up. Any more questions?”
The guard leaned his side to the side slightly, a common reflex when people spoke into their helmet wireless. The ears wanted to get closer to the speakers, so the head tended to tilt in the direction with poorer hearing slightly. After a few moments, both guards lifted their repeaters, and the guard on the left spoke this time. “Come with me, sir.”
As he spoke, the door they were guarding opened, and another guard walked out to replace Gril’Die’s escort before Gril’Die had even reached the door. Gril’Die lowered his hands and stepped into the lift. “Thanks for not shooting me.” The guard just looked forward as Gril’Die stepped next to him, and the door closed.
Chapter One!
THE FIRST SHIP
TAS VALKYR 53
Drake Kendrick had never been the tightest screw in the plank, but even at the measly age of fifteen, he knew where the line between sanity and insanity lay, and he was pretty certain he was getting ready to cross it. For all of his life, he’d been able to see things that weren’t quite there, and he’d heard sounds that hadn’t quite gone in through his ears, but that was just the normal crazy stuff: people, animals, buildings… This, on the other hand, was sheer madness.
He was staring (and had been for about fifteen minutes) at a pure white, metal pill the size of a house sticking out of the ground at about a 30-degree angle. He was hearing a low, mechanical growl from inside the unearthly thing that made it sound as though he were about to be the pill instead of it. He could even smell what seemed to be burning flesh and feel his own skin turning hotter by the second, despite keeping a distance of about 40 yards. He had seen the thing he assumed must be some sort of plane or spaceship go down, which was lucky because it had gone down into a massive, wooded area, and he never would have seen it otherwise.
He had called his friend, Larry Denton, as soon as he’d gotten to it, but he wouldn’t be there for another half-hour. Larry lived fifteen minutes away from the school, and he had only just been going home to change into regular clothes after basketball practice when Drake had called fifteen minutes ago. Drake’s house was ten minutes from Larry’s house, and the thing that Drake was now certain was a spaceship had crashed about thirty minutes by foot from Drake’s house, so Larry would have to hike all that way, despite that he was probably already at the house.
In the meantime, Drake would have to resist the urge to go inside. He wanted to know he wasn’t crazy first so that he didn’t accidentally walk into a burning building instead of a spaceship. Besides, Larry was bringing his dad’s old fire suits. Drake’s dad, Jake Kendrick, was a fireman until Drake’s mom had left them when he was about two, and he had retired to this rink-a-dink town in the middle of nowhere to raise Drake. Drake was pretty sure his dad shouldn’t have had permission to keep five fire suits, but apparently, the department had been replacing them at the time anyway. In any case, they were cool, if a little baggy on fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds.
After another twenty minutes, Drake’s skin began cooling down, which, he was pretty sure, meant his amazing discovery had cooled down enough to approach it. Around the same time, he heard a shrieking sound from the capsule and became certain that the smell of burning flesh was real, along with the rest of what was set before his eyes. He ran to the ship with an agility he’d never had before and began frantically searching the surface of the metal device for any sort of hatch or button or even just a window. With every glance and feel at it, he could hear the shrieking get louder and more panicked. He knew whatever was in there could not possibly speak English, but he figured they’d want to know someone was trying to help them, so he began yelling, “Don’t worry! I’ll get you out of there! I just need to find the door to your ship!” He was so surprised to hear an answer with that same, ethereal feel to which he had become so accustomed over the years that he almost stopped in his tracks. ‘Please! There’s a green bioswitch on the top of the cockpit!’
He couldn’t believe what he had just heard, but he did anyway. He yelled again, “Where’s the cockpit? I can only see white metal!” Seconds later, though it seemed like an eternity, a green light erupted from the tip of the ship, which he now realized was upside-down. The “top” of the cockpit was facing the ground. He ran to the green-glowing circle and slapped his hand onto it as quickly as he could. Nothing happened. He screamed, “It didn’t work! I placed my hand on it, and it didn’t do anything!”
The voice responded with an unexpected answer, ‘You have to spit on it!’ He did so, surprised he had any spit in his mouth. It had felt so dry in his panic. After a few more seconds, Drake heard a sound like an airbag going off, and the ten-square-foot hatch hit him head-on. He toppled to the ground, his vision hazy. That door was far lighter than he would have expected, but it had still hit him hard enough that under other circumstances, he would have lay there for a few minutes. These were not other circumstances. That door had been thick, and the shrieking was much louder now that an opening had formed.
“Drake?! Are you ok?! What’s going on?!” Larry had arrived just in time to see his best friend get a door in the face, so he was surprised to see Drake stand up and start trying to climb into some sort of giant medicine capsule in mere seconds.
“Larry! There’s someone in this thing! I have to save them!” Drake could now see into the cockpit. It was filled with switches and buttons, but what he found most fascinating in that chance moment was th
e massive array of displays. For such an apparently blank surface, that ship had to be covered in cameras. He could see Larry stop gawking at the ship and begin running to help his friend inside. He could see through the trees into his hometown, where his house sat with his dad inside. He could even see what seemed to be an outline of his dad sitting at his desk.
‘Hurry!’ He snapped back into reality. He had wasted precious seconds staring at the sophisticated equipment that he had been bound to find inside such an immaculate spaceship. He pulled himself the rest of the way into the cockpit, helped Larry inside, and started trying to work his way farther down into the ship, which was surprisingly difficult due to the ship being upside-down.
As he made his way into what had to be the main compartment, however, the groaning sound he had almost forgotten turned to a furious roar. He turned toward the cockpit, certain he shouldn’t stay, but he was unable to get back up in time. He saw Larry’s face go white as Larry was pulled by some unknown force up into the cockpit and out the open hatch. Then, he saw something even scarier: The door came back up against the cockpit and sealed him inside. He was trapped with whatever thing had just done that. “What was that?!” he screamed. “What happened to Larry?!”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just the security system. He’ll be fine. Please help me!” This time, the voice was not inside his mind but directly behind him, and for the first time, Drake could tell that the voice was female. He turned to it and saw a beautiful girl no older than seventeen looking at him with an incredibly frightened look, and he quickly saw why. Her leg was pressed against the back wall of the room by what Drake could only assume was a still-operating stove of some sort. Smoke was coming from her flesh as it burned farther into her. The rest of her body was pinned by what had to be her dining table.
Still frenzied, Drake started trying to lift the stove off of her. It, like the hatch, was much lighter than its size should have made it, and he decided in that moment that they must be made of similar materials. Now holding a rather large stove with a rather stupid look about him, Drake realized he had no idea how to turn it off. It had no wires or tubes leading to it. He began searching for another spit-circle to no avail. “How do I –”
“There’s a switch below your side-finger,” the girl said in what he was beginning to realize simply could not be English. He quickly decided that side-finger meant thumb and lifted it to find that there was, indeed, a bright red circle beneath it. Hoping this one responded more actively to simple touch, he re-angled his thumb and pressed the button. The stove did much more than deactivate. It began to collapse into a device no larger than a laptop. After getting over the shock of what had just happened, he set down the stove and began trying to lift the table, which was apparently the only heavy thing in this ship. “It’s being held in place by the magnetic wall. You’d normally just have to turn off the magnet, but its switch is behind me, so unless you feel particularly inclined to reach back there, you’ll have to cut the power to the whole room from the cockpit. It’s the flip-switch labeled with a double-arch through a single, vertical line.”
He was, indeed, particularly inclined to reach back there, but something told him it would be a bad idea just now. Drake headed back up into the cockpit, beginning to regain his calm. He knew how to treat burns like that. His dad had gone through a similar experience a few years ago. He still didn’t like that security system thing, but the girl had said that Larry was fine, and she was very pretty, so it had to be true. He climbed into the cockpit, searching for the switch. Sure enough, there was a toggle switch labeled underneath with a double-arch through a vertical line. It had a faint, yellow light behind the symbol, as if it were backlit. Drake flipped the switch. The light turned off, and he heard a loud thud, a clanking sound, and a short shout of pain from the girl. He headed back down toward her.
‘Wait. Before you come back, there’s an emergency medical kit behind my seat in the cockpit.’ The girl’s voice resounded in his head with a serenity that had certainly not been present earlier. Drake suspected the removal of the impending threat of slow but certain death probably had something to do with that. He reached back into the cockpit and grabbed a white box inscribed with a dark purple “O” on it. He suspected that was probably the girl’s version of a red cross. He headed back to the main compartment, where the girl was sprawled across the corner between the wall and the ceiling, letting out a quiet, musical hum to comfort herself. That leg was still smoking. A pale, red light was cast across the room, and the table was lying next to the girl. Drake found the little, red circle on the medical supply box easily enough, opened it, and began to tend to the girl’s wounds.
“Terira,” the girl said after about ten minutes had passed. Drake slowed his treatment enough to look up at her. “It’s my name. Terira Khuda’Cronell.” She smiled at him through the pain. “What’s your name?”
“D-Drake,” he stammered. “My name’s Drake Kendrick.” No girl this pretty had ever cared what his name was before now, though he supposed it probably made some sense today, consid
ering the circumstances. Saving someone’s life would probably be good reason to care what the name of one’s savior was.
“Is it, now?” She gave an amused smile, as though it were absurd that he would think that to be his name. “Well, Drake Kendrick, I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude, don’t I? It’s not every day a girl gets saved from death by cooking appliance, is it?” She laughed, and Drake smiled at her, unable to keep himself from staring into her eyes. It was too dark and monochromatic to tell what color they were, but he could certainly tell that they were beautiful. They were intelligent, strong, proud eyes, and they were… Well, they were just wonderful, weren’t they?
“No… I guess it isn’t,” Drake grinned stupidly, and Terira yelped. He started and realized that he had been leaning his arm into her leg. He continued her treatment and began to speak more intelligently, “So what happened? I can’t imagine you normally land ships upside-down while cooking. Why did you crash?” He had been wanting to ask this question for a while. For all the equipment and technology in the ship, it didn’t make much sense that such a crash would occur at all.
“Ah, yes, well, this was slightly my fault,” Terira said, looking away, embarrassed. Drake thought that this look, too, suited her much too well. “I was actually heading from your main satellite to the planet itself and figured I’d make myself some dinner. Thing is, I forgot to tell the autopilot that the planet had an atmosphere and an iron core, so the ride down got a little bumpy. The computer froze up in the EM field, and we ended up tumbling our way down instead of gliding properly. The atmospheric entry was what knocked the table into me, and the landing must have gotten the burner box on my leg. I actually blacked out when the table hit me, as humiliating as it is to admit that. Do you think it’ll be alright? My leg, I mean.”
“Nope,” Drake figured honesty would probably have the least amount of blowback at this point. “Your leg was cooking for at least an hour before I got in here. Whatever material makes up that flight suit you’re wearing, it must be incredibly fire-retardant because your leg looks like it was only taking the fire full-on for a few minutes. Still, that’s a very long time to expose flesh directly to flame. I don’t think you’ll ever have full use of this leg again unless your people have some sort of full restoration treatment for severe burns.”
“No. Well, we do, but it’s far too expensive for me, so unless my aunt pays for it, I’m probably not going to see anything more than a rudimentary prosthetic muscle group.” The girl looked frustrated but nowhere near as panicked as Drake would have been if he had just received the same news. “It’s too bad you can’t just heal me, isn’t it, Drake?”
Drake chuckled, “Yeah, that’ll be the day. If people could just heal others magically, I don’t think there’d be much of a problem with medical expenses being so high. My dad’s prosthetic hand was way too expensive, and it’s not even much of a hand.”
“Well, I don’t know about magic, but a Sheii’Cronell could definitely heal this with no problem. Why’s your dad got a prosthetic hand?” She looked concerned, as if she knew Drake’s dad.
“Oh, he had a seizure while cooking the one time, and his hand just got fried for a good fifteen minutes. I managed to save his thumb, uh, side-finger, and his wrist, but the rest of his hand was too heavily burned.” Drake almost wished he hadn’t said this because he saw Terira’s face go positively ghostly. “Well, that’ll do it. You’re as set as you’re going to be for now. This foam is good stuff. Do you think you can stand?”
“Yes. Thank you so much, Drake. We can probably restore power to this room now, and while we’re at it, I should probably get old Valkyr up and running.” She stood slowly and wobbled slightly but quickly adjusted for the fact that she was missing about half of her right calf. Drake was unceasingly amazed by this girl.
“Valkyr?” He was curious. The name sounded familiar.
“Yeah, it’s the name of the ship. Well, technically, it’s the class of the ship, but they’re all called Valkyr. This is the Thorlinthian Armada Starship Valkyr 53. I’m a Master Valkyrie, which means I’m a top-level Valkyr pilot. Well, I was. I’ll probably get that particular title taken away if I go home like this.” She seemed much more upset that she’d be getting her title taken away than she was when thinking she’d never be able to use her leg fully again.
The more he knew about this girl, the more foreign she seemed. “What’s the Thorlinthian Armada? And I thought Valkyries were super-warriors or something!” Dr
ake was very confused at this point and not afraid to admit it. “And while I’m asking questions, what happened to Larry earlier?” He had forgotten about Larry until now. Larry must have been sitting out there for at least half an hour, probably unconscious.
“Is Larry that friend of yours that came in with you?” Drake nodded. “He’s probably home right now with no idea he ever came out here. That’s what it does. Anyway, the Thorlinthian Armada is my people’s military, though I don’t know of any fighting we’ve done for hundreds of years short of putting down little insurrections here and there. As for Valkyries being super-warriors, we are. I’m probably five times stronger than most male pilots, and Armada pilots are put through the most rigorous training in the whole of the military. Compared to someone normal like your friend Larry, I am a super warrior. Of course, compared to a Sheii’Cronell, I’m a pitiful weakling, but that’s just how they are.” Upon saying this, she eyed Drake warily, as if she were afraid of him for a moment, but by the time Drake noticed anything, the look was gone, and she was strong, fearless Terira again.
“So Larry has no idea he was ever out here?” Drake was still wrapping his head around this and hadn’t quite been paying attention when Terira had spoken about Sheii’Cronells.
“That’s right. He doesn’t even know you’re out here,” she said, as if expecting Drake to become fearful at the notion that no one knew where he was. He didn’t. If anything, he seemed more eager that he’d get to spend more time with Terira.
“Is anybody going to come looking for you?” Drake asked this question a bit cautiously. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to flirt with her, even though he was.
She set a bit of a sway to her hips at this and walked away as best as she could toward the cockpit. “No one expects me to even report back for two years. I have all the time in the ‘verse.” She smiled at him, not missing the fact that this boy was totally smitten with her. “Now, hold on to something,” she said as she buckled herself into her upside-down seat. “This is going to be a little bumpy.” She flipped a few switches, including the one Drake recognized as the main compartment’s power, and the ship lit up around them. Displays came up all around Terira, and she very obviously understood every one of them. Her hair, which Drake now saw to be a faint, blondish blue, fell freely toward the ceiling, though it was cropped too short to hit anything, no longer than eight inches, possibly less. Drake took this opportunity to study the back of her neck with great intent. It was a very delicate neck for a warrior. Her skin was lightly tanned, and there were a few freckles scattered across her skin.
Drake was so intent on studying this fine specimen of alien, in fact, that he was completely taken by surprise when the whole ship shook and fell back onto the now-closed door to the rest of the ship. Terira laughed, and Drake realized that the smell of burned flesh had been long replaced by the scent of wild raspberries and watermelon, which was emanating from Terira. Drake much preferred this smell to the previous, so he didn’t mind falling like an idiot so much. Besides, it gave him a great view of her left leg, which was unfortunately covered by that flame-retardant flight suit, but the leggings led up to a pleated skirt that looked like Terira had put it on because she didn’t particularly care for the uniform she had been provided.
As Drake continued to take in the beauty of the Valkyrie, he realized her hair was starting to lean toward one side as she righted the ship. He quickly started working his way around the frame of the doorway to avoid tumbling and injuring himself. The ship’s growling turned to a gentle purr, which disappeared into a serene hum. Terira said, “The computer’s starting back up now, so the reactor’s a lot more stable. The loud sound you heard earlier when Larry was ejected was what the ship sounds like when it tries to power itself fully with an unstable reactor. This is all you’re actually supposed to hear.” Her voice, Drake realized, was incredibly soft and gentle, and it gave him a sense of sleeping on a bed of clouds. She had what seemed like a strange accent to Drake, but upon further thought, he realized it was probably actually his ears hearing her true language. For some reason, his brain was translating for him, and he wasn’t complaining. The “accent” was amazing.
“So what has you flying to Earth, Terira? From the sound of it, you don’t live anywhere near the neighborhood.” Drake was keener than he usually let onto others. There had to be some reason she was on Earth instead of some closer planet.
Terira apparently did not hear this particular question, however, as the next words from her mouth were, “Now where’s a good place to land? I don’t want to set down in these trees.”
Drake decided it wasn’t a good idea to push his question, “Well, if it weren’t for the fact that people might find your ship a bit conspicuous, you could set down in the empty lot across the street from my house. As it is, however, I have no idea.”
“Oh, people won’t even notice the ship now that the computer’s running. They’ll see whatever looks the least conspicuous, and they’ll just think it’s always been there. Where’s this ‘lot’? Oh, I see it! Yes, that’s perfect! Thank you, Drake!” Drake had also begun to notice that Terira seemed to have to force herself to say his name, though she didn’t appear to find it unpleasant. The ship glided across the three-mile distance to Drake’s house as if it were ten feet. Terira then reached to a side console and looked toward it with a swish of her wavy hair as her fingers blurred over the keys. The ship began to lower and set down on the ground, and Drake’s knees gave slightly as it settled.
“So why hasn’t the Air Force shown up and tried to take you away by now? We have to have equipment that can see giant metal pills fall toward the planet.” Drake found this thought to be rather prominent in his mind. He didn’t want this girl taken away by the military.
“Well, for one thing, my ship has no radar profile, so they never saw me. For another thing, they wouldn’t be able to determine where I landed even if they saw my ship falling with their own eyes. It’s just not possible.” She seemed very satisfied with this answer, but Drake wasn’t.
“I saw it and followed it straight to the crash site,” Drake said with a concerned look.
“Yes, but you’re special.” This time, Terira looked him right in the eyes, and Drake saw that her eyes were a brilliant shamrock green, just like his mother’s.
With those eyes, Drake knew she was telling the truth. Something unique about him made it possible for him to have seen her ship crash, find the crash site, hear her voice, and open that hatch. Something told him that bioswitch wouldn’t have worked for Larry and that Larry wouldn’t even have seen a spaceship if it hadn’t been what he was told was awaiting him.
“Who are you, really, Terira?” Drake asked warily, as if he feared the answer.
This time, Terira gave him a look that said she was almost proud of him. “That’s the wrong question, Drake.” She placed particular stress on his name. “You know what the right question is.”
“Alright, then… Terira, who – sorry, that’s not right – what am I?” This time, Drake did not hesitate. He had been asking himself this question for years, but he didn’t have an appropriate answer.
Terira did. “You are Drigondii Sheii’Cronell, and you are my future king and husband.”
Leaps of Faith and Disappearing Acts
“Larry, you’re going to break something if you try this,” Nora Ayling said as her fiance stood atop a three story building, ready to jump. “Or even worse, you could get yourself killed. You know, for most people, this would be a sign of suicidal tendencies, sweetie.” She made a scowling face at him, trying to mask her worry with anger, an effort that wasn’t panning out as well as she’d hoped since her voice betrayed her concern.
“I’ll be fine, Nora. Don’t worry,” Larry said, rechecking his visualization of the fall in his head one more time. Before Nora could argue again, he was in the air. His jump was almost completely vertical, pushing out just enough that when his backflip was finished, he didn’t land directly on the edge of the roof again. Instead, his heels gently scraped against the edge of the building, his knees bent and gently extending through the fall to decrease the acceleration of his descent ever so slightly. About midway down, he pulled himself into a roll against the wall, kicking out and up with barely ten feet to go, slowing his descent to the equivalent of a two-story fall, which was just enough as he hit the ground, tucking into another roll and standing up several yards from the side of the building, a bit disheveled but otherwise unscathed.
Breathing deeply and closing his eyes, Larry looked up to the sky, wondering how Terira would scold his form if she were here. Unfortunately for him (or, perhaps, fortunately), Terira was with Drake on their honeymoon. He wondered if they had gone to the actual moon at any point just to play off of the word itself. He chuckled at the thought. That couple could never stay out of mischief for long, even when they tried, which was rare.
Finally, Nora came stomping over and slapped Larry. “I told you not to DO that,” she shouted at him, pounding her hand against his chest in frustration. After a while, though, she stopped, and Larry pulled her into a hug. “I worry about you so much sometimes, Lar.” She pressed her cheek into his chest as he gently stroked her soft hair.
“I know you do, Nora,” he said, “but I have to master Thorla’din before Drake and Sara head to Thorlinthia. I’ve only got a couple more years before that if Mister Kendrick’s right. I still have to have time to teach Angus and Summer before the Phoenix rises.” Nora’s face contorted to express a sense of disconcerted understanding, and she stepped out of the hug, holding Larry’s hand and starting to head back to the apartments.
“I know, but it’s still going to drive me crazy every time you do something like that. You didn’t exactly have to do it five times, either.” She pressed her elbow into Larry’s ribs. He winced jokingly, and she laughed.
“Yes, I did,” he said, pulling out the last syllable to accent what he was saying. “If I only did it once, it wouldn’t exactly be practice, Nora. I have to know I can do it more than once. Otherwise, it might just have been a fluke.” He pulled her in more closely.
“Well, I don’t see what jumping off of buildings has to do with martial arts, anyway.” Nora looked down the road, her face beginning to soften again. “Couldn’t you just do your rolls on the ground?” This time, it was Larry’s turn to chuckle.
“Well, I could, but it wouldn’t be as effective, dear. The jump is more about directional control in free-fall, and the roll is different, reflecting that fact. There’s also the factor of controlling a slide without applying so much pressure that my foot would snag on the wall. Not only that, but the final jump at the end just can’t be practiced properly any other way.Thorla’din requires a total investment of mind and body, and faith leaps like that one are a way of extending that investment and energy.” His explanation had hit on most of Nora’s objections rather pointedly, but Nora still had one question.
“Well, why does it have to be Thorla’din?” she asked. “Why can’t you use some other art instead to fight these guys? I get that this is just the way training is for Thorla’din, but most martial arts on Earth don’t make you jump off of three-story buildings, you know.”
“I have to use Thorla’din,” Larry said, “because the elites use Thorla’O, which can only be beaten with Thorla’din. I have to be stronger, faster, and more fluid than a group of people who have a massive advantage over me, and if I’m not, I’ll probably die when the time comes to fight them.
Larry remembered those words now, as a Dragon Rider barely missed his head with an assault knife. He twisted smoothly, stepping calmly into the twist to retake control of his own balance even as the Dragon Rider’s second attack came down. Larry parried with a knife of his own.
“You know,” he said to the AI in his suit, “not many people can fight like this, even among the Dragon Riders.” His feet blurred into the steps he had been so careful to memorize, coming dangerously close to the edge of the building, which was significantly higher than three stories.
After winning his second Kohstr championship, the Lieutenant had left the tournament even more of a celebrity than he had gone in. Grie had taken it rather well, too. This Dragon Rider had merely caught a non-Dragon Rider in the armor of a fellow he knew to be dead, so he had responded in anger. Larry was now very glad he had worn his normal armor to the tournament.
“Yes, sir,” the AI replied as Larry moved out of the way of five more consecutive attacks. “We should be grateful, then, that the opponent is emotional, sir. Readings taken from his armor indicate he is much stronger than you, but he’s wasting much of his energy with poor form weakened by his anger.”
Larry grunted as he pushed upward finally, pressing his knife into the Dragon Rider’s chest, being careful not to hit any major organs and using the AI, Sjau, to call in emergency services. As soon as he verified their status to be en route, he double-checked to make sure his opponent wasn’t dead and started to head away.
“Wait, please, sir,” Sjau said as Larry moved toward the entrance back into the building.
“What is it, Sjau?” Larry still wasn’t sure how much he liked Sjau’s personality, but he trusted him/it.
“Perhaps I should purge his memories of this occasion before we leave. Would this be acceptable to you, sir?” Larry gave an appreciable look to the inside of his helmet.
“I didn’t even know you could do that, Sjau.” He was a bit concerned for a moment that Sjau could do it to him.
“Yes, sir, but it will take some time. It’s a highly encoded function.”
“Could that work on everyday people, too, Sjau?” Larry asked, suddenly having an idea.
“Of course, sir. I just need to activate the function first.” Sjau’s usual stoic speech was a bit disturbing to Larry at times like these.
“Excellent. And do you think you could transfer these functions over to my Peacekeeper armor, too?”
“No, sir,” Sjau said, dissapointing Larry for a moment, “But this suit can take on the appearance of your old armor.” Larry smiled again.
“Good,” he said. “I don’t think I want anyone to know they’ve seen me for a while. The Lieutenant needs to disappear for a while, I think.”
“Yes, sir,” Sjau responded. “Function activated. Memory purged. Your opponent will not be able to remember the attack now.”
“Good,” Larry said again, moving through the door now, back into the building. “It’s time to disappear.”
A Fight
“Grie, are you coming? We’ve got the next five hours free, and we were thinking of swinging by the galley for some extra rations.” A small Dragon Rider gestured to her comrade as the others headed out of the training room, drops of sweat dripping from his chin as he moved through the fundamental motions with a speed and finesse that could only be attained through years of practice.
Of course, Grie Khuda’Mundi had only been a Dragon Rider for about a quarter of a cycle now, but the almost exclusive martial art practiced by the Dragon Riders had been learned from the Valkyries, and Grie had married one of them about six cycles ago. It hadn’t taken long for him to take advantage of that fact to learn Thorla’din as soon as he found out she was an instructor for the art which inspired Thorla’O, the less fine form used by many Dragon Riders as they usually didn’t have the necessary grace and fluidity for true Thorla’din.
Grie’s feet slid quickly over the floor as he focused on his internal energy, his footwork becoming a blur. “No thanks,” he said. “I need to work on my form. I’m not fluid enough yet.” To anyone who had not seen him training with his wife, this was a truly absurd thing to hear. Grie was already a master of Thorla’O, but he wasn’t training his Thorla’O. In fact, he had never really trained Thorla’O. He had simply been recognized as a master by the instructors, none of whom could even get within a leg’s length of him without winding up on the ground.
Of course, the instructors thought that Valkyries practiced Thorla’O and were simply better at it due to their increased power and reflexes. In truth, Valkyries didn’t even recognize Thorla’O as a martial art, merely thinking of it as a cheap imitation of Thorla’din, which it was. Now, as Grie sliced his arms through the air like he was juggling knives, the air almost seemed to move out of his way before he passed through it, silent as a stone and quick as a repeater bolt.
“Grie, you’re the best fighter on the whole ship. Just give it a rest for one hour,” the woman said as she set down her bag. From behind her, however, an arm reached toward her and planted firmly on her shoulder. Then, a voice came from the body attached to the arm.
“Oh, really?” the voice asked. “I’d like to test to see if that’s true.” Drigondii Sheii’Cronell patted the woman’s shoulder a few times as he stepped forward in traditional training garb which matched Grie’s own. He wiped his feet and stepped out onto the floor, where Grie had ceased his motions. “I see you’re working very hard, Grie. Would you care for a spar?”
Grie’s eyes bolted wider twice as fast as those of his comrades, who dropped their bags and quickly lined up around the edge of the training floor. No one had really seen the Monarch fight before, but as a Sheii’Cronell, he’d have to be incredibly powerful. As he looked more carefully into his leader’s eyes, however, Grie noticed a very important detail. Drigondii’s eyes were not alight with the fire of the Sheii’Cronells. He stood tall and gave the traditional salute of Thorla’din, and Drigondii reciprocated. “I welcome the spar.” Grie smiled back at Drigondii’s almost childlike grin.
They each stepped into the starting stance, and like that, their arms and legs disappeared. The Dragon Riders watching couldn’t believe their eyes. For all of Grie’s practicing to improve his speed, he was faster still in a true spar. Drigondii’s motions were actually slightly slower, but it was in this fight that the Dragon Riders saw what Grie meant about not being fluid enough.
Grie’s movements were like water, his body moving with a smooth purpose and energy that none of his fellows could match. Drigondii, however, was like a gas. Wherever the water moved, the gas filled the openings that no one else even saw until after he was there. They then realized that Drigondii wasn’t actually slower. He was simply more relaxed. Grie’s movements had a certain snap to them when he changed direction, much like a whip. Drigondii’s movements didn’t hold that snap, which gave the appearance that he was slower. Truthfully, he was carefully matching speeds with his opponent, who was wearing down from all the snapping and whipping back and forth.
“You’re right, Grie,” Drigondii said, his voice cool and smooth even through the fight, a stark contrast to Grie’s now-ragged breath. “You aren’t fluid enough. You need to relax.”
Finally, Grie found an opening. He managed to grip Drigondii into a choking hold, and it seemed like the fight was over. Then, he just wasn’t in Grie’s hold any more. The Dragon Riders blinked as they tried to figure out how he had wriggled loose of such a solid hold, but they couldn’t figure it out. Grie swung about a bit too widely to counter Drigondii’s sudden attack from behind.
The parry was successful, but as Grie blended his motion with Drigondii’s, the mistake was made plain. Drigondii grabbed the hand and quickly twisted Grie about, flipping the man into a spin toward the floor. Grie’s body turned about as he hit the floor, rolling back into the fighting position, but Drigondii was there to meet him.
“You’re also right about being too slow, Grie,” Drigondii co
mmented as he brought his arm up to flip Grie back to the ground. This time, though, Drigondii was the one seeming surprised as Grie worked around and behind him. Grie soon realized, however, that the surprise was a feint. As soon as he moved to take Drigondii down, he found his legs caught by Drigondii’s own. Drigondii made a perfect dive, taking Grie’s feet up and his head down to the floor.
Grie managed to roll out of harm, but Drigondii was again there to meet him, this time pinning him to the floor with a nerve hold before Grie could get up again. Grie tapped the floor, and the fight was over.
“Thank you, Excellency. It was a pleasure to fight with you,” Grie panted out as he bowed to his leader. Drigondii bowed back and smiled.
“The same, Grie. I do, however, recommend that you go eat with your fellows, who’ve been sitting patiently here for you when they could have been off eating.” Drigondii knew, of course, that they had stayed for the fight because of who Grie was fighting, but he wasn’t about to point that out. “Also, I think you’ve practiced enough today. Take it easy for a while.”
“Yes, sir!” Grie cried out as he saluted the Monarch. The two stepped off the floor and headed off to shower, Grie in the head and Drigondii in his stateroom. It was an interesting sight to behold, indeed, as the Monarch walked across the ship, barefoot and in a plain training uniform. He normally wore his Drigarmr.
“So we’ll see you in five, right, Grie?” The woman called out as the Dragon Riders prepared to leave again, all abuzz from what they had just witnessed.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Grie called out from the shower. By the time he’d changed into his armor, they were gone. He picked up his bag, sighed, and headed for the galley. He pulled out a picture as he walked. It was a small photograph of his wife and newborn. Grie reminded himself that his son wasn’t so small anymore and slipped the picture back into his bag, taking longer strides. Now, he was hungry.
The EGC
“Welcome, everyone, to the twelfth cyclical Earth Games Competition!” The announcer started off with a brief history of the games, as always. “As we all remember, I’m sure, the EGC started out as a simple Kohstr tournament between Armadians of each ship and Earthers of each continent. Now, eleven cycles later, the games have expanded to include many native Earther sports and some traditional Thorlinthian sports, including Zero G Ball, the most popular sport ever played. Of course, the most intrigue still goes to the Kohstr tournament for many, most of whom are still hoping for the return of the legendary Lieutenant.
“Now, as we all know, the Lieutenant was an Earther who managed to claim the Kohstr championship two years in a row at the very start of the games. Since then, he has neither been seen nor heard from by the public, and he certainly hasn’t returned here to New Qzcivden for the games. Nonetheless, anyone who can remember the games, which were even hypecast to the civilian fleet that had still been on its way at the time, can remember the Lieutenant, a man who somehow mastered the game with skills great enough to beat the Armada’s greatest players, many of whom had played since infancy, despite the game having been introduced to Earth a little over two cycles prior to the first games.
“And, of course, many of us remember what has since been called by many ‘the greatest game of Kohstr ever played’ between the Lieutenant and Dragon Rider, Grie Khuda’Mundi, who has championed the game every cycle since the Lieutenant disappeared. The game holds the record for longest Kohstr game ever played at over two whole days, and not a moment of it was still with cards being drawn and set constantly. Legend holds that after the game, the competitors’ hands kept moving to draw and set cards even as they slept for a week. Talk about reflex!
“This year, the games will be starting off with a game of Zero G Ball up on the TAS Dragon King itself, and Drigondii Sheii’Cronell is going to give a short address before the game. I will be your announcer, Frihd Khuda’Rahut.” The announcer stopped speaking as the slides of the Lieutenant and Grie Khuda’Mundi faded away and views of the Zero G Ball court on the Dragon King came into view.
The court was roughly the size of a football field that had been spun lengthwise around its center to form a cylinder. It was close to fifty yards in diameter, and the hemispheres at either end rounded off the court to remove any sense of up and down. The court was located in the upper levels of the bulbous aft end of the ship, and it had no gravitational modifications, giving it a good sense of “Zero Gs”, indeed, while the ship orbited the blue planet.
The players were positioned inside small spheres floating at either end of the court. When it came time for the game to begin, the spheres would open and retract into the edge of the court, which would then seal off, leaving the players to the game. Each player had medium-strength body armor on with small propulsion packs attached. The time limit of the game was enforced by disabling the propulsion packs, allowing split-second maneuvering at the end of the game to continue in the event of a final score.
The objective of the game was to retrieve the spiked ball at the center of the court and pass it through the opponent’s goal. This was made more difficult by the fact that both teams were also armed to the teeth with various near-lethal weapons. Severely injuring a player would result in the injured player being removed from the game, but killing a player would disqualify the killer or killers and result in a penalty shot to goal, discouraging players from simply killing each other.
Despite the extreme danger of the sport, it was an extremely popular game, and it even had a type of laser tag variation with a smooth ball for children and amateur players. The professionals, however, were trained well enough to take more than a few hits and not get too hurt, and they were skilled enough with their weapons not to kill their opponents, many of whom returned to the game after recovery. The cyclical mortality rate of the game was actually lower than Earther boxing, which was not one of the games at the EGC.
The first game was between the North American team and the New Valhal team. Due to the danger of the game, Armadians actually weren’t allowed to play, but Dragon Riders and civilians were, so the game had been introduced to Earth in its full form the same cycle that the first of the Thorlinthian civilian ships arrived. At the first games, it had almost seemed racial in separation between Thorlinthian natives and Earther natives, but now, many Earthers lived in New Valhal, and many Thorlinthians had moved out to more densely Earther areas, increasing the diversity of players on any team.
Now, as the players on each side stretched, that diversity was plainly apparent. In the red, blue, and green uniform of the North American team, there was a young man in his twenties with bright violet hair, distinctive of a Khuda’Vellihad, and a young woman roughly ten years his junior with the blue hair typically found among Valkyries. Lihandii Khuda’Cronell the Second was the youngest person on her team, but she was one of the crowd’s favorites to last the whole game despite this being her first year eligible to participate in the games. She was, after all, the only known child of a Sheii’Cronell in all of history, and she was a Valkyrie at that.
The first buzzer calling everyone to the attention of the anthem sounded, and each of the players found a grip against the edge of the sphere from which they could salute and sing. After the anthem, a very well-known voice was heard over
speakers across the world as Drigondii Sheii’Cronell spoke.
“I’d like to personally welcome everyone to the games this cycle, in addition to introducing the players of the first game. On the New Valhallan side, we have Krehn Khuda’Velast of Osgord,” a green-haired man in the blue and silver uniform of New Valhal waved his free hand from inside his team’s sphere, “Lehadi Crisad of Lok,” a dark-brown-haired woman raised her hand to wave, “Seliad Teros’Cronell of Thor,” a blonde man raised his hand, “Kayleb Forest of Earth,” a young man with black hair raised his hand, decorated plainly with Valhallan marital tattoos, “and the ever-popular Reginald Green of Earth.” At the final name for the New Valhallan team, the tallest of the players raised his muscled arm, and a large part of the crowd in New Qzcivden went wild, cheering on their feet for the last year’s MVP.
After the cheering subsided slightly, Drigondii continued. “On the North American side, we have Trey Weathers of Earth,” a dark-skinned man in his late thirties raised his hand from the North American sphere, “Christina Khuda’Cronell of Earth,” a young woman with dark red hair raised her hand, and a cheer was sounded again before Drigondii could continue, “Krigu’Andi Khuda’Vellihad of Tyrr,” the violet-haired man raised the remarkably darker of his two hands, a characteristic shared by many on his planet, “Gril’Die Kehstr of Valhal,” a man in his late twenties with fiery golden hair and very pale skin raised his hand, “and finally, Lihandii Khuda’Cronell of Earth.” The whole of the stadium roared with cheers and applause as the young Valkyrie raised her hand.
“With that,” Drigondii said, “I wish the players all a fair match and look forward to the results. Let the games begin!” As the spheres retreated from the players, and the countdown to the start of the game began, few were paying enough attention to notice a man placing a late entry to the Kohstr tournament, even if he was wearing a worn-out set of Peacekeeper armor. Those that did certainly didn’t notice the worn-down rank on the uniform as they looked back to the screens to watch the game. Not even the registrar was paying enough attention to see that the Lieutenant had just signed in for the first time in ten years.
Pri and Grie
“So, Grie, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Feri’Andi said from across her dinner table table in Qzcivden. “How did you and my daughter meet?” She gave Grie a suspicious glance as she bit into her boiled sea felgr, careful to cover her mouth as she did so.
“Well, ma’am, I was on leave, sitting at a table at a restaraunt on top of the Beacon City Hotel on Osgord, completely zoned out and thinking about work when Priha’Di came up and started talking to me–”
“About the fact that he hadn’t eaten any of his food,” Priha’Di finished. “I decided he had a bit of charm about himself and sat down with him to eat my own lunch while I was waiting to continue my mission tracking a weapons runner who had been supplying some dealers with military Timids. He didn’t know that at the time, of course, so he was completely surprised when–”
“When she just gets up on the railing and jumps off the top of Beacon City Tower, saying she’d be right back,” Grie continued, each of the pair making time for the other to get in a few bites of food. “Now, of course, most guys would have assumed she wasn’t coming back, but I had a good feeling about Priha’Di, so I ordered us some more food–”
“And he just sits there, waiting for me to get back for twelve centidays!” Priha’Di came in as soon as she had swallowed her food. She briefly smiled at Grie before continuing. “So I just finished my mission and head back, assuming he’ll be gone, and he’s still sitting there like a real gentleman, even though he ended up missing the cyclical firework show with his family in Gordten. When I got back and saw him there, just looking up at me like I’d only been gone for a milliday–”
“I just knew,” they both said in perfect unison, looking into each other’s eyes like there was an entire galaxy of interesting things just waiting to be discovered behind them. Priha’Di reached out her hand, and Grie took it, the two squeezing each other’s fingers.
While it was still a significantly remarkable thing that the two were able to complete each other’s sentences, it was in large part due to the fact that the two had formed a type of mental link influenced by Priha’Di’s power as a Valkyrie. Each of them was capable of sharing the other’s thoughts, though not necessarily read the other’s mind. It was something that required openness from both parties. Grie and Priha’Di just happened to be very open with one another.
Feri’Andi smiled. She had been very early on in her pregnancy with Priha’Di when they had returned from Earth, so Priha’Di had no memory of her father. Still, Feri’Andi did, and it was heartwarming to see a connection so reminiscent of her own with her husband. She knew why Grie had asked for this dinner, but she wasn’t going to push the subject. She knew that it would bring itself up in time.
“It was so kind of you to have me over for dinner here, ma’am. I’m sure I couldn’t have offered such a fine dinner at my home. It’s all very delicious. I’ve never had cooking quite like this,” Grie said, marvelling at the lines across the sides of his own sea felgr, marks left by Feri’Andi’s grill, which was something she had built herself for lack of availability this side of the Bifrost.
“Yes, I learned it from my husband,” Feri’Andi said. “He fought fires, professionally, but he always did like to dabble in cooking.” She picked up a steamed korn, which was more like Earth broccoli than corn. She smiled at the odd coincidence in names.
“He fought fires, ma’am?” Grie looked curiously at Feri’Andi at this comment. Fire extinguishing systems were fully robotic in the Linthian system, the firefighting profession having been briefly reintroduced for a few centuries after the Ragn’Rouk but since unheard of. “Where was he from?”
Priha’Di stopped eating at this question. She wasn’t entirely sure herself, though she knew her older sister remembered. She had never managed to get the answer to this particular question, so her own curiosity was also piqued when Grie brought it up.
“My husband was from a far outer planet.” That sentence was more true than Feri’Andi could admit at the time. Earth was very far out of the Linthian system. “The firefighting robots on his planet are a bit disfunctional at times.” The firefighting robotics on Earth were, after all, very primitive.
“What planet is he from? I’m not too familiar with some of the outer worlds.” Grie’s head tilted slightly out of curiosity, but Feri’Andi knew her way out of this question well. With a quick mental jolt, she knocked a picture off the wall on the staircase behind Grie. There was an unpleasant crashing sound as the frame hit the ground, the viewpane shattering.
“Oh, my! Let me just get that cleaned up quickly. Terribly sorry about that, Grie!” Feri’Andi stood quickly, moving to pick up the pieces and take them to the trash, leaving the picture itself on the table.
As she was gone, Grie and Priha’Di took the time to look at the photograph. It was a chemically bonded slip of paper, an odd thing to be laying around in a Thoren’s house. As the heart of technology and society, Thor wasn’t exactly known for things as primitive as this sheet of paper. That alone would have been enough to spark Grie’s curiosity, but he was also a bit startled by the content of the photograph.
In a strange, uncomfortable-looking garment, a man leaving his prime with light orange hair and light blue eyes looked out from the photo, several ribbons and medallions on his chest, though he wore no sash indicative of the Armada. His appearance was a bit odd, and Grie had never seen a hair color quite like his, though the orange in Priha’Di’s hair led him to believe that this was a picture of her father. He was holding a young girl in one arm, his other arm over the shoulder of a young woman with dark blue and brown hair, who Grie quickly recognized as Feri’Andi.
“Is that your sister he’s holding?” Grie pointed to the young girl, her light blue and blonde hair very much like other pictures Grie had seen of Terira.
“Yes,” Priha’Di said, smiling gently. “I’ve never met my father, but I know he was a very compassionate man.”
“Everyone’s clothes are a bit odd, though, aren’t they?” Grie marvelled at the yellow dress Terira was wearing, with blossoms printed on the fabric. The black and white layers of her father’s garments were all sharply pressed, a look that seemed fitting for a high-ranking Armadian, not someone who fought fires. The silver and gold medallions on his chest shone brightly, somewhat reminiscent of military commendations. Feri’Andi, on the other hand, was wearing a green, woven sweater that fit snugly against her, her eyes shining to match it. “It’s a wonderful picture,” he finally said, looking to Priha’Di, who he now noticed was building tears in her eyes.
“It’s my favorite picture,” she said, her voice cracking a bit from the tears she was holding back. Grie leaned over and embraced her, and she leaned into his shoulder for a few moments before her mother returned.
“Sorry about that,” Feri’Andi said. “Anyway, Grie, was there a particular reason you wanted to have dinner tonight?” She didn’t really want to force the topic, but it was something to get their minds off Priha’Di’s father.
Grie straightened himself, and Priha’Di did the same, dabbing slightly at her eyes with her napkin. “Yes, ma’am. As you know, Priha’Di and I have been together for over six cycles now, and we’re very eager to spend even more time with each other in the future.” Feri’Andi raised an eyebrow at this, smiling slightly.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I’d very much like your blessing tonight toward taking your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Priha’Di gasped. Grie had made it a point to hide the thought from her so that it would be a surprise. She brought her hands to her mouth and the tears she had just held back began to finally escape. Grie looked to Feri’Andi for a few moments before she nodded.
Once she had, Grie rose from his seat and lowered himself to the ground, presenting the box containing the traditional Osgordian necklace of betrothal to Priha’Di. “Pri, will you marry me?” He held the box a bit higher, and Priha’Di leaned past it to kiss him, her answer clear even before he had been able to ask with all of her nods reaching a nearly comical level.
“Of course I will!” Priha’Di said as she brought her lips away from Grie’s long enough for him to place the chain around her neck, the Khuda’Mundi seal hanging from it. She hugged him tightly as they both stood while Feri’Andi merely smiled compassionately. She shed mixed tears as she thought of the joy this was bringing to her family and the sadness that Priha’Di’s father could not be here for this. She missed being known as Mrs. Ayling.