Crimson Dragonfly

T

Chapter 1- Past is Prologue

Unknown Planet// USS Cardiff
2302.07

“I’ve got you. Hold on there. I’ve got you.”

Reva groaned, struggling weakly against the hands pulling her free from the wreckage of her captain’s yacht, the Rhiannon.

“Don’t fight me. You’ve got serious injuries. Let’s not make it worse, shall we?”

The voice was male, but Reva realised with an unpleasant start that she couldn’t see her rescuer.

“What… what happened?” Reva slurred.

Hands continued to pull her along. A pause, then she was lifted onto something cool and hard.

“Your ship was caught in the same type of rogue plasma storm that brought me here.”

“I can’t see.”

Reva felt gentle hands run over her, assessing the damage. A tendril of something warm slithered up her chest and against her neck. There was a sharp prick at her throat, then a rush of warmth, and her ability to move drained away.

“You’ve been grievously injured. You should be dead, …Captain? I’m going to try to heal you.” There was another sharp prick, this time on the other side of her throat.

“Captain, yes. My name is Reva Sarrik,” she slurred, the words like toffee in her mouth.

“Allemerra, Captain Sarrik. Pleasure to meet you. My name is Urzas, formerly of the ASF Planeswalker.

“Sleep now, Captain. Let’s see if I can save us both.”

—————————————–

 

“Captain Sarrik? Wake up, sir.” The rumbling burr of the USS Cardiff’s Caitian CMO, Dr. Rrr’varric, pricked Reva’s consciousness.

“What is her condition, Doctor?” came Commander Liam ap Gareth’s lilting Welsh voice.

“She seems fine, Commander. Though there are two small puncture wounds on her neck, one on either side.”

Chirps and chitters from a tricorder brought Reva closer to waking. She stirred, opening her eyes to find Dr. Rrr’varric kneeling beside her.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Captain.”

“What happened?” Reva sat up, looking around. “Where’s the person who helped me?”

“Helped you? Captain, you’re the only lifesign down here. The Rhiannon was caught in a rogue storm that crashed you here. They must happen often.”

Gareth gestured to the surroundings. Reva realized they were in a veritable ship graveyard. Monstrous wrecks loomed overhead. “We overflew others while looking for you.”

“Commander Gareth? I’ve got something over here. A body, but it looks to have been here a very long time.”

Reva followed Gareth to where a security officer knelt by a bundle half-covered by wreckage. The mummified body appeared male, with blond hair, and wearing a tattered grey robe. It lay on its side, in a fetal position. Reva guessed his height had been near seven feet. His left leg ended at the knee.

“Poor sap. Wonder how long he’s been here.” Gareth knelt, fingers running over the unusual patch on the shoulder of the dead man’s robe. It consisted of a serpent coiled through a gear behind a raptor with outspread wings “I don’t recognise his species, or this sigil.”

“Scan it. We can run it through databases. Maybe we can find his people and let them know. Beam the body back to the Cardiff. Flag the planet and set warning buoys. We don’t want anyone else to end up here. A ship equipped for forensics disaster recovery can sort the wreckage. Seems like quite a few people could use closure.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Reva gave the body a final long look before turning away, grateful she wasn’t another statistic of the planet. As for the person who had helped her, she could only assume it had been a dream, and she’d gotten lucky, with nothing more than a severe concussion.

 

 

Four months Later…

 

Captain’s Log, Star date 2304.07 The Cardiff is en route to Dolmark, a planet deep in the Thomar Expanse. The Dolmari have reached out with a tentative offer of trade and cultural exchange. They desire to trade dilithium and parsteel for new tech. Eager to foster goodwill and stability in the region, Starfleet was quick to send a ship.

The Dolmari are a reclusive race. Little is known about them, other than their appearance. An average of four feet tall, with reptilian features. Commander ap Gareth says they remind him of ‘kappa’, an Earth cryptid of Japanese origin.

 

Reva glanced around the conference table, taking in her crew’s expressions. Most wore frowns, though Lt. Ezill Kaalir had an excited look. Reva allowed herself a slight smile. Kaalir, a joined Trill, and Chief Science Officer, specialised in xenoanthropology, as Reva herself did.

“Comments? Concerns?” Reva looked at each in turn, inviting discourse.

“Why now?” Piva Faarn, Tellarite Chief of Security asked. “Why do they want trade now, when they have such a history of secrecy?”

“Perhaps they’ve decided to not let sector life pass them by any longer. There’s been a great deal of change and an increase in traffic throughout the Thomar Expanse. Better to get to know your neighbors, yes?” Rrr’varric replied.

The Caitian CMO’s ears twitched. “We have little biological knowledge of the Dolmari. While they appear reptilian, they are warm-blooded, thriving at a temperature of 80-90 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“They function in a strict caste society, Captain. Any breach of protocol is dealt with harshly. Any of us dealing with them need to be very precise with our own rank protocol. They’ll see our ranks as different caste levels and expect certain behaviours,” Kaalir said.

“They’ve requested a Starfleet survey team to evaluate their mines, to reassure us that the ore is good.” Eshass Ch’shraonness put down the PADD he’d been looking at.

The Andorian engineer looked slightly annoyed. “It’s an unnecessary request. We can scan the mines and get as good an assessment. A sample of the ore can be brought to the ship. Less chance of derailing negotiations by a protocol faux pas.”

“Agreed. But the Dolmari are adamant. We need to honour requests when possible. Assign a small survey team to accompany the negotiation team.”

“Aye, Captain. I’ll have them ready.”

“I’m not comfortable with you leading the away team, Captain.” Gareth ran a hand through his short, sandy brown hair. “It’s nae been that long since your accident, and I have an uneasy feeling about this whole mission.”

He’s not wrong. Something feels off.

Reva blinked at the unbidden thoughts, pushing them away. “Thank you for your concern, Commander, but I’m fine. It’s been four months. The Dolmari expect the Captain to lead the negotiations.”

Gareth’s sceptical look said he felt otherwise, but he settled back with a nod. “At least take Lt. Faarn as a personal guard.”

“Of course, Commander. Kaalir, you’ll be with Faarn and I. Ch’shraonness, choose a few officers you think would be best for this survey mission. Faarn, assign a team of security officers to accompany the survey team.”

A chorus of “aye, sirs” ended the meeting.

 

———————————

 

The musical chime of the door broke through Reva’s concentration. She blinked, yawned. The chronometer told her it was early morning. On the desk before her a thick journal covered in deep green leather lay open, several pages filled with her neat script. She stared down at it, brow furrowed. A second chime turned her attention from the journal.

“Come!”

“Bore da, Captain.” Commander Gareth greeted her in his customary Welsh.

Reva grinned. She enjoyed the language lessons with her second, nevermind that she’d never really have a chance to use it. She loved languages, and his ancestral one was lovely.

“Bore da, Commander.”

“Starting a new sketchbook?” Gareth walked over to the desk. He gave her a critical once over. “Captain, are you feeling well? You look kinda rough, no offense. Maybe you should go see Dr Rrr’varric.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” Reva flipped the journal shut, revealing a richly detailed tree in full leaf. “No, it’s not another sketchbook. Apparently I’ve decided to take up writing. When I should be sleeping…”

“May I ask what you’re writing? If it’s as good as your art–”

“It… It appears I’ve decided to write out my dreams,” Reva shoved the journal off to the side.

“Captain, you need to see the Doc. It’s been four months. These dreams aren’t healthy.”

“They’re not nightmares. But always consistent. Like I’ve tapped into someone else’s memories.”

“Oh, yes, that’s a perfectly normal and acceptable excuse for insomnia,” Gareth chided.

“Perhaps not. But it’s a story I want to explore now, and maybe writing it will bring an end to the intense dreams.”

Not likely.

Reva yawned, ignoring the stray thought. “You’re correct in one thing, Gareth. It shouldn’t eat into my sleep time.”

“I want to read it when you’re done, Captain! And I came to tell you, we’ve arrived at Dolmark. The Dolmari would like to begin the negotiations as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Gareth. I’ll be up shortly.” She paused, contemplating the new journal. “Here, go ahead and read what’s written so far.” She handed the journal to Gareth.

 

Interlude 1: Reva’s Dream- Magister

Skycity Sevfahl, 10000ft above the Aeryth Ocean
Year of the Golden Hart, 2013 CE

 

“How much farther, Warden?” I slowed to a stop, ignoring the lewd, sneering comments from the peanut gallery of prisoners in the cells around me. Some tried to touch me, but a flick of electricity had hands being snatched back with muttered curses. Pain was already starting to creep into my limbs, and my temper responded accordingly. We’d only gone down a handful of levels, but these stairs were steep and awkward.

“Not much farther, Lady kyl’Solidor,” the Warden wheezed. He stooped over, placing pudgy hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

“What level is your death ward?”

“Level 12.”

“I see. And we are on… let me think, now…” I made a show of tapping my finger against my chin. “We’re on–”

“Yer on Five,” a deep voice rumbled from one of the cells.

The Warden straightened, his small eyes darting about, searching for the voice.

“Stop messin’ with the mage, Fergin. Use the lift.” A gaunt greybeard appeared at one of the barred doors. “It’s not like yer lazy ass walks the stairs any other day.”

I seethed, feeling my teeth grind together. The pain racheted higher. I knew there’d been an easier way to get around. Sevfahl had an enclave of artificers. Rigging tech in old places was cake to them, and the Sevfahlans loved their luxury.

“Look, I want to be here even less than you want me here. Take me to the death ward, let me look, and then I’m gone. I have to be able to at least say I checked,” I snapped at the warden.

“Oh, ye’ll find what ye need here, lass.” The greybeard flashed me a grin, his eyes flaring dim silver as he turned back into the darkness of his cell. “What we all need.”

“Wait, what?” I gave an irritated wave of my hand, turning from the cell. “No, nevermind. Take me to the lift and let’s just get this over with.”

“This way, Lady kyl’Solidor.” The Warden bustled off down the hall. I started to follow, but turned half back as the mournful rise and fall of six repeating notes filled the greybeard’s cell. He was still whistling as the Warden led me into a small, windowless room, barely bigger than a broom closet. As the door clicked shut, a wooden panel hissed open, revealing a biometrics panel. He placed a hand against the palm panel.

“Level 12.”

The lift beeped and began whirring downwards. Neither of us spoke until the door clicked open. The Warden stalked out, going down the dim corridor bellowing for the inmates to line up, telling them what was expected. I breathed out, slow and steady.

I could do this.

The Inferno wasn’t my last option. There were three other prisons left on my list, including the Golden Court, in Imperia Argosia.

A low murmur of excitement and shuffling brought my attention back to the Warden.

“All yours,” he said.

The chance to be a magister was a rare and lucky break for a criminal sentenced to death. Each of the inmates had lined up by their doors. There were men and women, most Sevfahlan. One Kymry woman, and a hulking brute of a Ne Rameridean. I walked the line, forcing myself to look every one of them in the eyes. Some I asked questions of, nodding as if I cared about the answers. I was glad to reach the end, and started back up the aisle. The Warden stood by the lift, shifting from foot to foot.

“Ready to go back up, then?” He looked hopeful.

Muffled coughing caught my attention. I looked back down the aisle, trying to figure out where it had come from. It came again, fainter. Ignoring the warden’s protests, I walked back down, past the cells to a closed room I had assumed was for storage. I shook the door, but it was locked.

I turned to the Warden. “Open it,” I commanded.

Now I was irritated. They were all supposed to be given a fair chance for me to decline, not that I wanted to see them. Scowling, the Warden pulled out a solitary key hung around his neck and shoved it in the lock. The door swung open to reveal a small room with four tiny cramped cells. I winced, nose wrinkling as the potent smell of urine, old blood, and infection washed over me. Three of the rooms stood empty, doors slightly ajar. The fourth, however, contained a shirtless man chained to the wall, feet barely touching the ground.

I frowned as I got a good look at him. One eye was completely swollen shut and, if his wheezy breathing was any indication, he had fractured ribs. Dried blood crusted festering wounds along his face, arms and chest. Just barely visible under the aftermath of his new wounds I could see a series of older scars, parallel lines across his chest and the top of one shoulder.

His coffee skin and reddish-brown hair suggested Arkaddian heritage. It was unusual for any of the Plains people to be found in a skycity and I wondered how he had ended up on Sevfahl to begin with. I turned on the Warden, hands clenched to fists.

“Isn’t it enough you’re going to kill these prisoners horribly?” I asked, incredulity filling my voice. “What the hells could this man have done that you’d do this? And then you try to hide him from me?”

“He was supposed to be gone by the time you got here,” the Warden replied sullenly. “What does it matter?”

The man stirred at our words, peering at me through his good eye. He coughed again, wincing in pain.

“I am a thief, milady,” he said.

I blinked, too flabbergasted at first to process that his voice did have an Arkaddian lilt to it, with hints of Argoth’s rolling tones.

“A… thief? This–” I gestured up and down his frame, “this is not what you do to a thief. Truth now: how many did you kill?”

The prisoner shook his head, grimacing in pain. “I killed no one, milady. I merely had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He fell silent, bowing his head back down.

Beside me, the warden snorted. “He assassinated the Lord Governor of Sevfahl,” he spat.

I had heard of the Governor’s assassination, but had assumed the culprit hadn’t lived past the day they were caught.

“Did you truthread him to be sure?”

“No, we didn’t truthread him! We can’t afford to keep a mage for that. Besides, he was caught inside the palace, holding a sack of stolen goods.”

“Which a thief would be carrying.” I scowled, touching the lock with a brief pulse of magic. It clicked open, and I entered the cramped cell. “May I truthread you?”

The prisoner gave me a wary nod, though his breathing quickened when I touched his forehead. I brushed against his mind, sending a bit of calming magic to ease the tumult of his thoughts. Order gradually replaced the chaos, and I was surprised to find a hint of vague familiarity to his thoughts.

Show me that night.

His good eye widened at my mental voice, showing blood-speckled white. After a moment, images began to flicker past. One in particular stuck out. A scarred Arkaddian male dressed in black.

I flick of my hand and the shackles snicked open. I caught the Arkaddian in coils of air, lowering him to the ground.

Behind me, the warden huffed. “Lord Tysin will not be pleased, Lady kyl’Solidor.”

“I don’t give a vykr’s ass for Lord Tysin’s pleasure,” I snapped back. The prisoner gave a weak laugh.  “The thief was telling you the truth. He didn’t kill anyone. There was another Arkaddian, unlikely as that might be.”

I knelt down by the man, where he slumped against the wall. I ran gentle hands over him, magically assessing his injuries. Though he had many wounds, none were too severe. I studied him for a long moment. It only required that a magister come from a death ward. Nowhere did it say they had to have belonged there.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Alei-” He coughed again, looking away from me. When the fit passed, he turned back, attempting a wry grin. “Aleister Balflear, the Sky Fox, at your service, milady.”

“My name is Kalla,” I started.

“kyl’Solidor, right? And you need a magister. I heard. Milady, no offense, but I’m a thief, not a warrior. You’d be getting the short end of that stick.”

“I’m not looking for brute strength. I value cunning and intelligence and a Fox should have more than enough of that. Besides,” I said with a sly grin, “I have yet to meet an Arkaddian who wasn’t a warrior.”

“Very well, milady. If it keeps me from Tysin’s clutches, I accept.”

“You understand what this commitment is? Being a magister means you are bound to me. It’s your job to protect me, and to serve as an extra source of power when I need it. If I die, so will you.”

”Then I guess I’d better make sure that doesn’t happen anytime soon.”  Aleister sank back against the wall, his strength starting to fade.

“Well, first things first. Let’s get you healed. Lie down.”

Once Aleister was settled, I rested my hands gently on his chest. He tensed beneath my fingers, heart hammering as the healing magic washed through him. My brow furrowed, as followed the trail of damage. Bones shifted, tiny fractures knitting together. The cuts sealed over, pushing infection from them as they did. The swelling receded, revealing a chocolate brown eye to match the other. I finished, and sat back to survey my work, taking a moment to rest. Fatigue weighed me down. The pain blossomed, limning my limbs. The pain and fatigue were old friends, and easy to hide. I still had work to do yet. Though blood and infection still clung to Aleister’s skin, the cuts themselves were nothing more than shiny scars along his face, chest and arms.

“Sit up, please.” It was now or never. I had offered him the chance, now it was time to forge the magisterial bond. I couldn’t put it off any longer. Either I left with a magister or I left with the guilt of leaving an innocent man to die. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Woah, now.” Aleister pushed himself to sitting upright. He furrowed his brow. “I don’t want you to choose me if that’s not what you want. With your truthread, they’ll need to release me.”

“It’s not you. I don’t want to choose anyone. I think our system is foolish. If a mage can handle themselves without a magister, we should be allowed to. I’ve done fine so far.”

Not quite true. I had a tendency to push to the edge of my strength, but I also rarely left Cryshal. If I drained myself and lost consciousness, or if I succumbed to the pain and fatigue I was prone to, I was safe among my brethren. “But if I have to, which I do, well you aren’t too shabby a choice. You could do with a bath though.”

He snorted a laugh. “Let’s get this done, then.”

I raised my hands, placing them on his temples. He let out a shivery breath as I ran my fingers through his hair. I focused on his mind, stretching part of my essence down through my fingers. He tensed again, cringing from the intrusion.

Relax. Don’t fight it. That will only cause pain.  

I felt his tension release, bit by bit. I waited until he relaxed fully before forging the link.

Fear and uncertainty flooded my mind, nearly suffocating me. It took a moment to realise I was feeling Aleister. I tightened my mental shields and sent calming feelings through the bond. Aleister managed to rein his emotions in, creating a weak version of my own mental protection. I opened my eyes to find warm brown ones staring back at me. Aleister offered a shaky grin.

“Well, milady, I hope you don’t come to regret your choice,” he murmured. I rose to my feet and offered a hand to pull the thief up.

No, not a thief. A magister. My magister.

“You’re a far more savory choice than most I’ve come across. Now, let’s get out of here and go get you cleaned up.”

“You’ll get no argument from me there, milady.”

I swayed, blinking away the exhaustion. Aleister looked down at me, concern flicking over his face.

“I’m fine. I just need sleep,” I murmured. “Let’s go.”

We followed the Warden back to the elevator, taking it all the way to the first level. Sunlight streamed through large windows, a welcome sight after the dimness of the lower levels. Two more Wardens waited beyond the silvery doors, one the Headwarden himself. Unbidden, a faint frizzle of anxiety skittered down my spine.

“Well, well. You found our prize.” The Headwarden turned to Aleister, “The Governor was so looking forward to seeing you fly today. Tysin will be livid.”

“Let him. You both know I murdered no-one.” Aleister jerked his head towards me. “And now it has been corroborated by a truthread. Which you denied me, by the way.”

The Headwarden gave a slight bow of the head in Aleister’s direction. “And serendipity set you free. Follow Jeltin and get cleaned up. Lady kyl’Solidor, if you’ll follow me please. It seems we have some paperwork to take care of.”

Anxiety shivered through me again, faint but palatable. Aleister looked to me, a question in his eyes. Of course. I should have been better prepared to share my newly bonded magister’s emotions.

“Go ahead,” I said softly. “It’s okay.”

Aleister nodded, mouth tightening in a frown. The Headwarden watched as he followed the other guard down a sunny corridor. Then he turned his bright, sea green gaze to me, gesturing down a shorter hallway.

As we sat, filling out the necessary documents to mark Aleister’s transition to magister, a riot of sensations tumbled through the shared link. Unease at the separation. Concern at my fatigue. Impressions of near scalding water ghosted my own skin, along with warm contentment. I grimaced, strengthening my mental shields, cutting the unfamiliar feelings off.

Chapter 2- Dragonfly Dusk

Dolmark
Na

“Greetings, Captain Sarrik.” The Dolmari crossed its arms over its chest, hands touching the opposite shoulder and gave a slight bow. “This one is Ssumadi, of the Kastarran Council. This one’s companions are Tiktikit, also of the Council, and Xahkto, Minister of Resources. We welcome you to Dolmark.”

Reva introduced her officers, returning the bow. The Dolmari stood around four feet tall. They were a stocky species, with broad, blunted muzzles. Their pebbled, leathery skin came in shades of browns and green-browns. Wispy hair contrasted with the reptilian look.

Reva took in her surroundings. A fountain burbled in the middle of a broad sunbaked courtyard. Pockets of shade were created by colorful eye-catching swathes of thin cloth stitched together and roped to carved stelae. The archaeologist in Reva itched to learn more about them. Did the carvings represent myths? History?

Buildings of stone surrounded the courtyard, the largest to the north. Despite the natural building materials, Reva caught glimpses of tech. But that tech? It merged near seamlessly with the natural environs.

As it should be.

Reva frowned, pushing the random thought away. She groaned inwardly as the headache that often accompanied these stray thoughts started up behind her right eye. A frisson of guilt and apology ghosted through her mind, as alien as the headache thoughts were.

“If your survey team would be so kind as to follow this one, we will bring them to the Colraak dilithium mines,” Xahkto said.

“Of course, Minister.” Reva nodded to Lt. Marin, head of the trio of engineers. Two of Faarn’s security officers accompanied them. “Lieutenant, check in with Commander ap Gareth every hour.”

“Yessir.” Marin and her group dutifully trailed after Xahkto.

Ssumadi and its companions led the rest of the group to the large, northern building.

Inside, Ssumadi headed down a corridor. The walls and ceiling tightened, turning to a snug tunnel. Dim lights were set at regular intervals, brightening slightly as the Dolmari passed by. Intricate mosaics in shades of brown, black, white and green covered the floors throughout the complex, breathtaking in their intricacy.

The tunnel widened to a small circular chamber, joining three other tunnels. As Ssumadi led them deeper in, Reva took note of the various twists and turns. While this was a diplomatic mission, and thus they shouldn’t need to worry about making a quick escape, the Captain always preferred to know all her options. No doubt Faarn was doing the same. The Tellarite security chief took her job very seriously.

The group came to a rounded cul-de-sac. Five doors fanned out around it. Carvings of vines and flowers covered the doors. The tiling along the floor branched out, weaving a pattern of vines and rose-like flowers along the edge. Curiously, tiny doors were inset to the inside of the ones closest to the tunnel hallway.

Ssumadi entered the middle-most door, largest of the five. Inside, several more Dolmari sat along one half of a round table. Others, larger and more muscular, lined the wall behind them. Clearly guards of some sort, these Dolmari had narrower, taper muzzles. As the Starfleet officers entered, the Dolmari at the table rose to greet them.

“This one is pleased to introduce the Kastarran Council, Captain,” Ssumadi said. As the Dolmari named each, they bowed to the Starfleet group. Reva returned the bow, introducing her own people in turn.

“We are honoured to be here,” Reva said, “and hope a beneficial trade agreement can be reached.”

“As do we.” Ssumadi gestured to the table. “Please, be seated. Refreshments will arrive soon, and we may begin.”

Reva and her crew took their seats around the other half of the circular table. As they settled, Dolmari attendants brought out platters laden with unfamiliar fruits and beverages, their scents mingling in the air, a delicate blend of sweet and tangy. Other platters contained cheeses and thin crackers with black flecks.

The conversation started with pleasantries, Ssumadi’s voice soothing and rhythmic, easing them into the discussion. Yet, beneath the surface, Reva sensed an undercurrent of tension—a hesitation that was masked with practiced skill by the Dolmari diplomats.

“As you are aware, the Dolmari have remained isolated for quite some time,” Tiktikit began, his voice solemn. “Yet, the growth of the Federation intrigues us. We are eager to explore the possibilities of mutual benefit.”

“The Federation values the unique contributions of every culture. We’ve seen how sharing resources and knowledge can strengthen bonds and ensure prosperity,” Reva replied.

As she spoke, Reva could not shake the feeling of scrutiny by more than just the Council and guards. her instincts sharpened by years of diplomacy and exploration.

Reva’s ears picked up someone entering behind her. A huge guard slipped by, bowing low to Tiktikit. Irritation flickered across the council member‘s face, but he waved the guard forward. The guard crouched down, whispering a sibilant message to Tiktikit that had all of the council members exchanged glances. A flash of unease flickered through Reva’s mind.

“Please excuse my disrespect, Captain, but a family matter has come up that I must attend to personally,” Tiktikit rumbled.

Reva stood with the Dolmari, returning his low bow with equal gravitas.

“One must tend their family,” Reva replied. “There is no disrespect there, Councilor.”

Ssumadi continued the conversation, as Tiktikit slipped away with the guard.

“We are interested in trade with the Federation, Captain, but we have reservations as to how much of a disruption frequent offworlder visits would be. And if your technology can be fully adapted to our world. We prefer it to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

“I understand your reticence, Councilor. I did notice how nearly invisible your technology is. Impressive,” Reva gave Ssumadi a faint smile. “I have little doubt that our engineers, and yours, can find a common ground.”

An hour in, an attendant placed a small, ornate device on the table, Ssumadi offering a brief explanation.

“This device projects a map of our mining operations. Please, feel free to examine it as we continue our discussions.”

Reva leaned in, examining the intricate projection. The map was detailed, showing not just several mines but how the surrounding mining camps blended with the ecosystems. It was clear the environment was important to the Domari. They had invested significantly to maintain harmony between industry and environment.

“Which mine is Colraak?” Reva asked.

“This one, Captain.” Ssumadi pointed to one of the larger mines, quite a distance from them.

As Reva studied the map, a familiar sensation washed over her—another fleeting memory not her own, like a shadow skittering across the edges of her consciousness. She felt a brief pressure, invisible fingers pressing against her mind, and then it was gone, leaving her with just the murmur of council discussion, the hint of a headache, and vague unease.

Despite the apparent cooperation and shared interests, Reva’s instincts whispered caution. There were layers to the Dolmari intentions—something unspoken yet tangible waiting to surface. As the first meeting drew to a close, commitments were made to continue talks, and the Dolmari extended an invitation to explore more of Dolmark in the days to come. Reva rose with the others, offering farewell with carefully worded pleasantries. The Colraak mines were a significantly rich source of dilithium, not to mention several smaller mines containing parsteel.

As they departed the council building, Reva turned to Kaalir.

“I’m interested in what Marin and Ch’shraonness have to say about the mines.”

A loud buzzing sound stalled Kaalir’s response. Reva had barely a moment to register a flight of cat- sized dragonflies heading towards them. The relentless drone of dragonfly wings filled the air, their metallic sheen glinting ominously in the dim light.

BACK INSIDE

Reva echoed the inner voice and turned, forcibly pushing her young protege ahead of her. Her charge gathered up Faarn and Ssumadi, pushing them back into the building. The Dolmari and Starfleet security officers that had preceded them out of the building had drawn weapons and were firing at the determined insects, but there were too many. Two more flights entered under the colourful canopy, surrounding bigger dragonflies with six wings.

Amid sounds of phaser fire, Reva heard sounds of metal falling to the ground. She turned to see another dragonfly go down in a shower of sparks and metal. Then phaser fire hit one of the larger bugs and her world erupted into an inferno.

Unbidden, Reva’s hands slammed against the open doorway. Pain ripped through her head as a surge of energy zinged down her arms. Her jaws locked and body went rigid as a blue forcefield shimmered over the doorway, cutting off the hellacious flames as another dragonfly exploded. Reva stood frozen against the door, somehow keeping the forcefield over the opening. She could feel each pulse of energy sustaining it, draining her, leaving a trail of fiery pain in its wake. Where this ability came from was a mystery- a gift and curse wrapped in one.

As the flames subsided to pockets in the courtyard, Reva sagged against the wall. The bluish forcefield faded as her hands fell away. Reva’s heart pounded as she processed the chaos outside.

Her mind raced with thoughts of her crew’s safety, and the implications for their mission. She realized the attack wasn’t just a threat to their lives but to the delicate negotiations with the Dolmari. This disruption could set back diplomatic relations, if not derail them altogether. Beneath that, slow anger that wasn’t entirely Reva’s, began to simmer at the audacity of the attack.

“Captain!” Faarn pushed her way forward, catching Reva as she slid bonelessly to the ground. The streaks of fire down her arms was fading, but her head felt like an ax had been buried deep behind her right eye.

“I’m fine.” Reva coughed, wincing at the spikes of pain through her head. “Check the others. Outside.”

Faarn nodded, dashing into the courtyard now littered with metallic dragonfly parts, and bloody organic parts. The acrid stench of burnt circuits mixed with the coppery tang of blood and burning flesh, creating a nauseating cocktail that clogged Reva’s nose. Something Reva knew from experience would take a long time to fade away.

As the echo of the explosions faded, Reva steadied herself, drawing a deep breath and clearing her mind as she reached for her communicator

“Reva to Cardiff.” Reva coughed again. “We need a medical team down here. Beam the mining team back up.”

“Aye, Captain. Will do,” Gareth’s voice was tense. “Everything be good down there? Shall we beam your team up as well?”

“Far from good, Commander. We’ve been attacked. Everything is under control here, for the moment.”

“Attacked, Captain?” Gareth growled out. “We should–”

Reva heard voices in the background, interrupting the Commander.

“Captain, we can’t beamt he mine team up. They’re shielded against transport.”

Interlude 2: Reva’s Dream- Firefall

Skycity Sevfahl, 10000ft above the Aeryth Ocean, Year of the Golden Hart, 2013 CE
Na

Not long after, the Headwarden and I rejoined Aleister at the entrance to the skyship paddocks. Scrubbed clean and dressed in loose black breeches, a comfortable-looking slate-grey tunic, and the soft-soled shoes favoured by the Arkaddians, my magister cut a rather handsome figure. Three pouches and a slender dagger hung from a thin braided black belt. Peeking through the tunic’s low cut neck, I could see a jinshin, made of longtooth claws, with one of the long saber teeth of the great Plains kestin as a centrepiece. That explained the scars on his chest. Only Arkaddians who had undergone their Rite of Passage wore the jinshin as a mark of surviving.

“Well, now, don’t you look much better.”

Aleister gave a dry chuckle. “I certainly feel better, that’s for sure.” He paused, a look of longing on his face.

“Milady, if I get my belongings back, does that include the Stymphalian?”

“Stymphalian?”

“My airship. She’s not much- a converted Argosian strike-fighter.”

I turned to the Headwarden, one eyebrow raised in question.

“The airship was confiscated. It was to be turned over to the new Lord Governor after the execution,” he said.

“There will be no execution today. My magister is entitled to have his ship back.”

“Of course, Lady kyl’Solidor.” He bowed slightly, gesturing to the paddocks. “Jeltin will take you to your magister’s ship. May the winds favour you.”

“And you as well, Headwarden.”

He nodded before heading back into the depths of the prison.

“Follow me, please.” Jeltin strode out into the shipyard, pausing beyond the threshold to wait for them.

A brisk wind caught us as we exited into the Inferno’s roof, snapping my robe around my legs. Aleister tipped his head back with a contented sigh, letting the wind ruffle his hair. He favoured me with a grin.

“Figured the next time I felt the wind, it’d be them pitchin’ me over the Wall. Not the way I’d choose to fly.”

I snorted, hiding a chuckle. “Pretty sure that’s called falling.”

Aleister held her gaze, the grin vanishing. “In seriousness, milady, thank you. I’ll do my best to serve you honourably.”

“You’re welcome, Aleister. I don’t know that I could have made them free you otherwise. My services as a truthreader were not requested.”

“I asked, but the request was denied. These folk were determined to make an Arkaddian pay and, well, we just aren’t that common in the skycities.” Aleister twitched a shrug as we followed Jeltin into the paddocks proper.

The ships docked at the Inferno’s paddocks lined the broad rooftop plaza. Most were small personal ships, belonging to guards, or more likely confiscated from inmates. Two larger transports were berthed at the big corner paddocks. Aleister quickened his pace, and his excitement was a tangible thing, singing through our bond.

“There she is,” Jeltin pointed across the plaza. Aleister took off at a trot towards a graceful ship bearing the faint resemblance to an egret with a long neck and tapered bill, wings unfurled. A pair of ion cannon graced the wings. I followed at a more sedate pace, a slight smile creasing my face as I recognised the class of ship. The Stymphalian was a Kruetzet-class strike-fighter. My smile faded, and tears pricked my eyes as a half-forgotten memory swam to the surface.

 

 

*

 

The strike-fighter thrummed as the power grids engaged. It lifted off the decking, hovering slightly. Calloused hands reached around my own small ones to dance over the controls. The ship’s hum grew deeper as it left the Kujata’s docking bay. We left the massive flagship’s shadow, and the roughened hands lifted my own, placing them on the control panel. The ship began to drift.

“Hold her steady, love, “ a deep voice instructed.

I slide chubby fingers down the controls, evening out the ship’s flight, and tapped each gauge as I checked it. I turned to beam up at the face behind me. My father’s eyes sparkled.

“Well done! Now, log our course for Port Derwin.”

I brought up the Kruetzet’s flight display, keying in the destination coordinates. Another check of the gauges showed all was well. Satisfied, I locked the controls.

“Good job.” Melaric stepped back from the Captain’s chair. A wide grin split his face. “Now, little bird, why don’t you hop into the other chair.”

I looked up at him, then to the second chair, puzzlement furrowing my brow. I looked back to my father.

“Go on. It’s about time you learned. You’ll know your way all around this ship by the time you start the Academy.”

I scrambled out of the Captain’s chair, and into the one to its left. My hand went to a switch, then froze above it. I glanced at my father, eyebrows raised in question, and he nodded. Giddy, I flicked the switch. The gunner’s scope descended, and I swung it down before me, absorbing Melaric’s instruction.

 

*

 

I shook away the memory. That had been one of the last times I’d seen my father. There was no Fleet Academy in my future. My magick had Sparked, and I’d chosen the Kanlon over becoming a Technomancer. Mercurius’ disciples frightened me, with their monstrous alter-forms. But when children blessed with magick were taken to the Kanlon, they lost all family ties. Not that being claimed by the Technomancers would have been much better. They spent the first few years sequestered, the time spent training. A year after I’d gone to the Kanlon, I learned that my father had disappeared while on a mission, caught in a storm. Neither ship nor captain had ever been found.

Aleister was grumbling to himself as I approached. He fiddled with the hatch panel a bit more and the door hissed open, a thin set of stairs unfolding to allow entry. The Fox flashed me a mischievous grin and started up the stairs.

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing. That’s mine!” A curly-haired teen was running towards us across the plaza. I snorted. From the teen’s angry voice and the commotion now commencing at the paddock entrance, I could only assume that Lord Tysin had arrived for the execution only to discover that the Fox had slipped his trap. As the youth skidded to a stop before the Stymphalian, the crowd by the doors started towards them. The boy, face flushed crimson, opened his mouth. I narrowed my eyes.

“The airship belongs to me now. I’m afraid that’s something you’re going to have to deal with, young man, unless you care to challenge the

Sin’ of Cryshal.”

“But it’s MINE! Even the magi can’t just take stuff!”

“No, but a magister’s belongings go with him. The Stymphalian belongs to Aleister Balflear and Aleister is my magister now,” I growled. Before the boy could argue further, his father arrived, huffing and puffing.

“This is an OUTRAGE! I demand that you turn this assassin back over to me for execution. He killed our Lord Governor,” Tysin raged. I favoured him with a hard smile.

“I’m sure the Headwarden here has already explained things. You captured and tortured the wrong Arkaddian. This one is nothing more than a thief. Your assassin is still free.

Magi have the right to claim any criminal on a death-ward as their magister if they are in need. I was in need. Balflear is now my magister. No amount of outrage is going to change that.” My voice was low, dangerous.

Tysin started blustering again, but his complaints were cut off by an unearthly wail that rose abruptly, before tapering off. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and I looked around, searching for the source. Aleister stepped closer to me, peering up at the skies. The wailing came again, joined by the Inferno’s air raid sirens. Tysin’s eyes widened. He spun around, heading back to the Inferno. His son shot me a dirty look before taking off after Tysin. The eerie cry came a third time, sounding louder, closer. A deep boom shook the paddock and I stumbled a few steps before a hand caught my elbow, steadying me. More booms rang out, shivering the plaza as the Inferno’s anti-aircraft cannon fired. Deeper explosions answered as Sevfahl’s Rim Wall cannons joined in.

“Fine time for someone to attack.” Aleister bustled me up the stairs. He slapped a panel, and the door hissed shut, muting some of the cannon blasts “I really hope they aren’t Jerachi. I don’t know if I can outrun those ships.”

“You’re worried about the Jerachi, but not the Argosians?” I asked as Aleister flung himself into the captain’s chair. I took the gunner’s place.

“The Fleet has no reason to attack a small skycity.” He glanced at me, eyebrows drawing together. “Does it?”

“No-” Words died in my throat as the paddock plaza erupted in flames. Several of the airships were struck by fireballs. Debris clattered along the Stymphalian’s hull.

“What the hells is going on?” Aleister’s voice was tight. The engines hummed to life as his fingers flew over the controls. The hum deepened as the ship lifted off. Aleister pushed a few more controls and the ship’s shields snapped into place. The Stymphalian rocked with the impact of a fireball that struck the nose of the ship. Aleister grunted as he fought to keep control.

We both screamed as the smoke cleared, revealing the source of the destruction. A nightmare visage of fangs and glittering orange scales greeted us as the giant creature filled its chest for another assault.

“Fire wyvern,” I breathed. It had been years since I’d had seen one. They were normally shy beasts, but now the skies was filled with the slender, serpentine creatures. Their tapered muzzles were graced with sensitive barbels and a sharp spike tipped the tail. Stubby horns framed the head, terminating in small spikes along the jaw line. Unlike dragons, wyvern lacked forelimbs, having only hindfeet and an expansive set of wings.

Aleister cursed as he deftly avoided another fireblast. The wyvern’s bellowed rage reverberated through the ship. The Sky Fox was living up to his name, but it was all he could do to avoid the beast’s attacks. I pulled the gunner’s scope down. My hands danced along the controls, activating the strike-fighter’s cannon. I slid the scope onto my head and it was like I hadn’t been away from an airship for decades.

“What are you doing?” Aleister’s voice was clipped. Tension radiated through our shared link, threaded through with alarm.

“Just fly!” I tracked her target, then fired the cannon, one after the other. Both ion blasts slammed into the scaly creature, knocking it from the sky. I glanced at Aleister. My magister flashed me a grin, admiration replacing alarm as I swiftly took down two more flame-scaled wyvern.

“Hold on:!” Aleister banked the ship in a sharp turn, and into a steep dive, narrowly avoiding another attack. The shrill cry of the proximity alarm was the only warning we had before a heavy weight slammed into us from above. More alarms shrieked as the Stymphalian spun out of control, a wyvern clinging to the top. The ship’s shields were keeping us intact, but the weight and scrabbling claws were draining the power fast.

I stifled a shriek as the wyvern launched off, sending the ship careening in the opposite direction. Sevfahl’s Rim Wall loomed large. Aleister cursed in Arkaddian, hands flying over the controls. I could feel his fear, bubbling over. I lowered my mental barriers and siphoned it away. I felt his mind sharpen. I closed my eyes, heart racing with the fear of two. I threw personal shields around Aleister and myself, bracing for impact. The ship pulled into a tight turn, belly scraping the Wall. Aleister leveled out the ship, taking them away from the skycity.

“You okay?”

I flinched at Aleister’s quiet question, turning wild eyes on him. I let out a slow breath, unclenching my fingers from the cannon controls.

“I’m fine.” I grimaced at the shakiness in my voice, and drew in a deep breath. Let it out slow. I brought my mental shields back up, and dropped the ones protecting our bodies as Aleister banked back towards Sevfahl.

By this time, the full artillery of the Inferno’s towers, and Rim Wall were at work, the giant anti-airship guns felling wyvern after wyvern. Two of the beasts broke away, turning their attention to the strike-fighter as we drew closer. My focus narrowed on the gunner’s scope. I winced inside as two more broken bodies went tumbling to the ocean far below. Between the city’s cannon, and Aleister’s fancy flying, the battle was soon over.

As he turned the ship back to the paddocks, he let out a shaky sigh of relief and looked over at me.

“Where’d you learn to shoot one of these?” he asked.

“My father was a Fleet Captain. His ship was the original Kreutzet, same class as this one. I spent my childhood on the flagship Kujata.” My eyes pricked with tears, and I scrubbed my face, shoving unwanted memory away. “Where’d you learn to fly one, Arkaddian?”

“Ran away from the Plainslands when I was young. Took up with an elderly Argosian who had turned to the life of a thief. He left me this ship.” Aleister flashed me a mischievous grin, one that faded as we beheld the destruction below. The Inferno’s paddocks were littered with bodies, both human and wyvern, and crews ran over the grounds, trying to get the fires under control. Aleister banked the ship and circled again, seeking a safe place to la

nd. He found one along the outer edge and brought the ship to ground.

Chapter 3: ….And This Will All Happen Again

Dolmark
Na

 

Following Gareth’s announcement that the mining team had been effectively taken hostage, Reva sent a protesting Faarn back to the ship to arrange a rescue. The Tellerite had not been happy at leaving the Captain behind. She’d sent more security officers down with Rrr’varric and the medics. Like Gareth, Faarn thought Reva should return to the Cardiff.

The air hummed with the tension of held breath as Reva gazed at the ruins of the courtyard. The shredded canopy let the fading light of day shine down on them, the sky a bloody red at the edges. Colourful tatters of canopy cloth littered courtyard, a bright cheerful dissonance to the carnage.

“Captain,” Rrr’varric hurried over after she beamed down. The Caitian’s sensitive nose was wrinkled against the scents of acrid smoke and charred flesh.

“I’m fine. Just a headache.” Reva waved the doctor off.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Rrr’varric growled. An ear flicked back. She grabbed Reva’s hand. “Did you decide to go in for some tattoo work, while visiting, then?”

“What the…” Reva muttered, as the doctor flipped her palm up. Deep green traceries laced across her palm and under her sleeve. Rrr’varric pushed the sleeve up, revealing bigger threadings up her arm. They reminded her of lightning lace scars.

“No. And I wasn’t struck by lightning either. But…”

“Yes?” Rrr’varric asked as she ran a tricorder sensor over Reva.

“I created a forcefield. With my hands. And my headache is the worst it’s ever been.”

“A forcefield. With your hands. Of course.” Rrr’varric shook her head. “Well, you seem fine. If this is like thunder scarring, it’ll disappear in a day or so. The headaches, though, are becoming concerning. This should help for now though.”

The doctor pressed a hypospray to her throat. Reva winced, then gave a sigh of relief as the headache began to ease. A frisson of guilt ghosted through her mind. She allowed Kaalir to help her stand, and followed Rrr’varric into the courtyard.

Reva navigated the debris, her eyes scanning for survivors as Starfleet personnel moved with practiced determination, finding and tending to the injured. The patterns on her arms occasionally tingled with the faintest hint of leftover energy, a distraction she consciously pushed aside.

Rrr’varric and her medics transformed the scene of devastation into an organized hub of activity, with the help of security sent by Faarn, and several of the Dolmari. Reva and Kaalir joined them. The search for survivors was grim; few living remained amidst the wreckage. The bombing had left its mark on the courtyard. Acrid smoke burned the back of her throat. Yet more daunting was the sickly-sweet stench of charred flesh, an odor Reva knew would linger long after the embers had died, a haunting reminder of the day’s horror.

Rrr’varric, brusque and efficient, coordinated with the Dolmari healers and her own medics. The gruff Caitian’s battlefield experience made her a natural leader here. Field triage and palliative tents had been sent up amidst the rubble. Nearby, a more solid structure housed the dead, cooling generators slowing decay in Dolmark’s autumn heat. Sadly, most of those who had survived the bombs’ inferno were on death’s wait-list, too badly injured even for Starfleet technology to heal. Not that the Dolmari were willing to allow Rrr’varric to beam those critical patients that were themselves Dolmari up to the Cardiff for treatment. For many, the most the medics could do was ease their passing.

Side by side with the Dolmari searchers, Reva and her officers worked, sifting through the ruins, seeking the dead and dying. Praying for survivors amidst devastation. They labored under the dwindling sun, their hopes flickering like its light. Lt. Clements’ absence gnawed at Reva, as did that of Ensign Jetlin. Darkness approached, but colossal lamps, set up to allow the operations to continue, flared to life, harsh and unyielding.

“Captain Sarrik!” A cry interrupted Reva’s search. Kensi gestured urgently. Reva jogged over as the medic and a Dolmari gently pulled a man from the debris. It was Jetlin, Faarn’s young officer. Reva’s young officer. The man- a boy really- was badly burned along his left side, skin charred black. He looked like he was asleep, though his face was pulled taut in pain, and his breathing came in painful, stuttered spasms. Both legs were bent at odd angles, and one side of his torso looked oddly sunken. The medic met Reva’s gaze.

“Have you assessed him already?”

The medic opened her mouth, closed it, giving a short jerk of her head instead, closing the medical tricorder with a snap.

“He’s…” Her voice was a cracked whisper.

Reva’s sharp eyes took in the harsh truth. Jetlin’s end was close. His breath turned to a rasping gasp, and his eyes flickered open, finding Reva’s.

“Captain.” Jetlin’s voice was a pained whisper. He reached for her with an unburnt hand, and she clasped it tightly, acutely aware of his fragility. Reva swayed slightly as a feeling of oneness flowed into her from him. An awareness of the grievous nature of his injuries filled her.

“Clements… ahead of me. We tried…” he whispered, forcing the words out. Jetlin’s face twisted in pain, the rattling of his breath growing more pronounced.

“We’ll find her, Ensign. Rest now,” Reva assured him.

Let us end this, Captain.

Reva wasn’t sure if the thought was hers or not. The odd presence had never addressed her. The thoughts never seemed other than by feel, that they were not her own, but the ensign seemed to sense it as well. His eyes locked on hers, and he gave a weak nod. Reva’s palm tingled where it touched Jetlin’s. The sensation grew to a burning, before melting away, into Jetlin’s body.

Fly free, Ensign.

The thought was hers, but additionally imbued with that presence felt deep within. Reva held back a hiss as her right eye throbbed with a sudden, molten pain, and cradled Jetlin’s head. His hand convulsed around hers, and a final breath rattled out of him, his eyes no longer holding the vibrant story they once did. Jetlin lay heavy now, unburdened. With deliberate tenderness, Reva closed his slack eyes, tapping her combadge to send his body to the Cardiff’s care.

Weariness settled deeply within her. The weight of Jetlin’s loss bore down hard. Jetlin, like all of her crew, was her family. More than that, he had been her responsibility. It never eased, this wrench of life departing so abruptly.

No, it never does get easier.

 

 

 

 

Interlude 3: Reva’s Dream – This Has All Happened Before…

Skycity Sevfahl, 10000ft above the Aeryth Ocean
Year of the Golden Hart, 2013 CE

 

We wasted no time in joining the crews seeking survivors, though these were few and far between. The air was filled with acrid smoke. Worse was the sickly sweet smell of burnt flesh. It clogged my nose, and I knew from experience I would smell it for days to come. Most of those who had not perished from the flames were too badly damaged even for me to heal. The most I could do was make their passing easier. The Inferno has certainly lived up to its name this day.

We worked for hours, among the dead and dying, until finally the sun began to set. Enormous Artifice lamps came on all across the paddocks, allowing the people to keep working. I sighed, moving to the next victim. It was Jeltin, the Warden who had brought us to the paddocks. He was badly burned along his left side, skin charred black. He looked like he was asleep, though his face was pulled taut in pain, and his breathing came in painful, stuttered spasms. Both legs were bent at odd angles, and one side of his torso looked oddly sunken. A weary medic trudged up, carrying a syringe. She pulled short, focusing dull eyes on us.

“Pardon, Lady kyl’Solidor.” Her voice was thick with exhaustion.

“Have you assessed him already?” Mine wasn’t much better.

The medic opened her mouth, then closed it, giving a short shake of her head instead. “He’s…” Her voice broke with a ragged sob.

“He means something to you, doesn’t he?” Aleister asked, low.

The young woman nodded. “My brother.” Another sob threatened, but she choked it back and continued in a soft voice. “I was coming to ease his suffering. But… but maybe you can heal him?”

I didn’t want to shatter her hopefulness, but just my cursory glance told me little could be done for him. As if to emphasise the point, his stuttered breathing became a harsh rattle.

“Jeltin. Jeltin, I’m here. I’m here. Don’t go. Look, the mage is here. She can help.” Her voice grew quieter. “She can help…” The medic looked up at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, as I knelt on Jeltin’s other side. I touched two fingers under his chin, letting my magic sink into his body. A few seconds was all it took to tell there was no saving him. It was a miracle he was still breathing at all. I reached over, covering her hand with mine.

“You should say goodbye. Let me end this for him.”

“No,” she moaned.

Below us, Jeltin’s eyes flickered open. He tried to move his hand to touch her, but it was too much for him. Pain creased his face. Sobbing harder, his sister clutched his unburned hand. His fingers gave hers a weak squeeze. His eyes rolled to look at me, and he gave a slight nod. I cradled his undamaged cheek with my palm.

“Fly free,” I whispered. My magic spiralled down into him, stilling his heart, and his broken lungs. Within seconds the tension fell away from him and Jeltin’s head lolled heavy against my hand. I gently brushed fingers over his face, closing his eyes, and stood, leaving the young woman to grieve.

I swayed, weariness settling over me. A hand pressed against my back, steadying me. I flinched away from Aleister’s touch. He pulled his hand away, with a murmur of apology. As I worked to marshal my flagging energy, we watched as chains were wrapped around the body of a wyvern. While others had been tending to the wounded and the dead, prisoners had been brought out from the upper levels of the Inferno to aid in disposing of the giant bodies. Chains were wrapped around the corpses, hooked to the undercarriage of transport vessels and carried off.

A deep, rumbling growl sent the team around the body scurrying away amidst shouts that one of the beasts still lived. Wardens came flocking to the area, bringing heavy rifles to bear on the weakly struggling creature. I frowned as a flash of silver glinted from beneath one of the wyvern’s thick neckplates.

“Hold off and back away. Slowly.” The wardens glanced at one another, but fell back. I edged towards the wyvern, murmuring softly in Argosian. I maintained eye contact with the fiery-scaled creature. It snorted and tried to toss its head, but the chains pinned it down. I paused.

“Grab the chains. Keep the head down.”

It took some chivvying from the wardens before the prisoners crept back, grabbing the chains and pulling them taut. Sweat slicked my palms, and I wiped them on my robe before moving closer. A fierce hawk-like eye following me. The wyvern made a crooning, like the warning of a brooding hen, as I walked behind the head, still murmuring calming nonsense. Anxiety- Aleister’s anxiety- roiled in my belly. I tightened my mental shields, and gently prised back the neck scale where I’d seen the glint of silver. The wyvern’s scales were warm and slick, the scales over the spine were thicker, glimmering like trapped fire.

Beneath the scale was a silver knob. I touched the object, embedded deep in the skin, like a giant metal splinter. The area around it was inflamed and hot with infection. A sudden shadow, and muted hiss from the creature had me looking around as Aleister crouched beside me.

“What is that, milady,? he asked

“I don’t know, but we’re going to remove it. Pull it out slowly. I’m going to heal the damage behind you.”

“Is that wise?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is wyvern are shy creatures, and this thing probably has something to do with why they attacked,” I replied.

Aleister shook his head, but reached down and grabbed the knob. Bracing his other hand against the wyvern’s neck, he tugged at the knob. Grunting, he pulled harder, his face strained. The wyvern’s breathing quickened and it thrashed its tail, slamming it against the ground. Ages passed, as Aleister withdrew the spike. As long as his palm, the tip was hollow and dripped the remains of an oily green substance. He laid it aside, and I heard him calling for a cloth as I started healing the wyvern’s other injuries. It was mostly broken bones from colliding with the Inferno’s roof. There were burns from the ion cannons, and some internal damage.

I had used a great deal of energy already, and towards the end I felt a tug on the bond with my magister as my magic began tapping into his energy reserves. I finished my work, and started to stand, but I must have been wearier than I thought. My vision greyed and I pitched forward, slumping against the wyvern’s muscular neck. It stirred and, with a movement swifter than a striking serpent, jerked its head free. The chains gave a metallic hiss as they slid to the ground and I found myself wrapped in a haze of translucent red as the wing nearest curled around me. The great head dipped around to face me. Dimly, I heard Aleister yelling at the men to hold their fire, for fear that they would hit me instead. His fear surged through the bond. The wyvern snorted and smoky breath washed over me.

You healed me. You saved me. Why?

I could only gape in amazement at the distinctly feminine voice in my mind. Though credited with being extremely intelligent, it had never been noted that wyverns had anywhere near the sentience that their closest cousins- dragons- did.

“It’s okay! Everything’s okay! Don’t shoot,” I called out. I winced at how weak my voice sounded. To the wyvern I said, “Your kind are not known to be this aggressive to humans. When I saw the spike, I thought it might be part of the reason. I don’t approve of killing simply for the sake of killing. It goes against all a magi Healer is taught. My name is Kalla kyl’Solidor, of Cryshal Kanlon, by the way.”

The hawk eye blinked slowly.

 I am Amaterasu, seer to the Cove Rock Clan and I thank you, both for healing me and for sparing my life. For that, my life belongs to you.

People came, many days ago, to the lands of the Cove Rock Clan. They came with guns that paralysed us and they embedded the spikes in my people. We lost control of who we were. There was a voice in our minds that whispered to us we should leave our home and attack the skycity. 

Tears pricked my eyes at the wyvern’s words. If all of the wyvern’s clan had attacked the Inferno, then Amaterasu was the last left alive. Fury built a fire in my belly.

“I don’t know who could or would do such a thing. The spike contained what looks like a poison, but I’ve never seen anything like it.” I laid a hand on the wyvern’s neck. “If you trust us, I will do my best to get to the bottom of this and see those involved punished.”

I thank you, Lady Mage. 

Amaterasu unfurled her wing, and my relieved magister rushed to my side. He wrapped an arm around my waist, and helped me stand. Grey flecked my vision again, and I didn’t resist as he pulled me closer, a steadying hand under my elbow. His actions hid just how exhausted I was from the others. There was a rustle of weapons as the wyvern levered herself upright, folding her wings about her body.

“There is no need to worry. She will harm no one,” I said.

“She? How can you tell if it’s a she? And how do you know it won’t attack again?” One of the wardens blustered. “These beasts slaughtered our people, attacked our home.”

“She told me, that’s how. You will leave her alone.”

Several of the wardens and prisoners alike muttered darkly, but they backed away, returning to the task of cleaning the rooftop.

“You need to rest, milady. You’ve done enough for today. I’m sure quarters can be found for you in the Inferno,” said Aleister, low. There would come a time, with training, that we would be able to speak mind to mind. I shook my head.

“No… if the Stymphalian still has her living quarters, it is there I would prefer to rest.” I winced inwardly at how weak my voice sounded.

All Argosian strike-fighters had living quarters in them. The Kruetzet had featured two tiny sleeping rooms, one for the captain and one for the gunner. In addition, there had been a tiny ‘kitchen’, a cargo area in the ship’s belly, and a tiny bathroom complete with a cramped shower. Aleister nodded and guided me back up the ship’s stairs, to one of the small berths. He helped me onto the bed, and draped a blanket over me.

“I can see why they wanted you to have a magister. I have my work cut out for me. Do you always overdo things?” muttered Aleister as he tucked me in. I managed a small smile before sleep pulled me under.

 

Morning found the paddocks cleared of bodies, if not of debris. I yawned and stretched standing in the ship’s doorway.

A thud shook the ship and a fiery-scaled head dipped around the side. A fierce orange eye fixed itself on me.

Good morning, Lady Mage. 

“Good morning, Amaterasu. Don’t be so formal. It’s just Kalla,” I said.

As you wish, Lady… Kalla. I am bid give you a message. The grumpy male went to get food. He said that they had taken the metal bird’s stores. He will be back soon.

I frowned and focused on the bond, searching for my magister. He was in the Inferno. Worry twined with exhaustion tinged his thoughts and I felt a twinge of guilt. I wasn’t used to having another concerned for my well-being. Pushing myself past my limits wasn’t uncommon, but I was always safe in the Kanlon, and I had the rare ability to recover swiftly.

Irritation filtered through the link as Aleister dealt with the Inferno officials. No doubt they still harbored resentment over the fact that he and Amaterasu had been freed from ‘justice’. I shook my head and turned back to the wyvern looming over the ship.

“Amaterasu, you said last night that you were the seer of the Cove Rock Clan. I am going to try a scrying, to find some answers to this attack, and I’d appreciate your help. Two minds are always better than one,” I said. The wyvern nodded.

If you can scry by fire, La… Kalla, then I can help.

“Fire is fine.”

I turned to look at the Inferno as I sensed Aleister heading back. Amaterasu swung her head towards the prison with me, delicate nostrils flaring. Aleister trudged across the paddock grounds, laden with bags and packages. I jumped down the Stymphalian‘s stairs and trotted to meet him.

“I see you’re awake, milady. Did you recover your strength?” he asked. I took several parcels from him.

“Saa, I did. It never takes long. And it’s just Kalla! No need to be formal!” I turned to the wyvern. “Give me a bit, Amaterasu, and we can begin. Breakfast wouldn’t hurt first.”

“Begin what…?” Aleister sighed as he took the supplies from me.

“Amaterasu and I are going to do a fire scrying, to seek out the cause of this.” I caught his frown. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m recovered. You, however, should get some sleep.” I paused, handing him a sack of sweet Su Rameridean golden potatoes. “Thank you for keeping watch last night. I’ll try my best to not overdo things in the future. I’ve gotten used to looking out for myself, and the Kanlon has always been safe”

Aleister froze, his back to me. I felt a thrill of fear not my own, but it was smothered in a sticky, warm sadness. The foreign feelings flickered out as the Fox strengthened his mental walls. I was impressed. He was learning fast on his own. Often it took new magisters days to weeks to learn to keep their emotions from spilling over too much.

“Go on. Go get some rest. Your mind is grumpy when you’re tired,” I teased.

“I am not grumpy,” he huffed. I laughed, the sound ringing through the ship.

“I rest my case. Go relax a bit. I can fix our breakfast. I do know my way around these ships, remember?” I chided gently.

Aleister heaved an exaggerated sigh, and turned the kitchen over. I heard him muttering a mix of Arkaddian and Argosian all the way to the front, where he flopped down in the captain’s chair. Within minutes he was dozing peacefully. I didn’t have the heart to wake him when breakfast was ready, so I conjured a covered tray, charmed it to keep the food hot, and left it on the counter.

I found Amaterasu at the far end of the paddock, where the wyvern had already collected a pile of debris together. When she saw me she swelled up and spat flame at the pile, igniting a roaring bonfire. There were a few startled shrieks from others working in the paddocks. A string of irate Sevfahlan followed.

I trust this will be satisfactory, Kalla. Amaterasu glanced at the prisoners still moving debris, and made a raspy coughing noise. I realised she was laughing, clearly amused at response.

“It’s perfect. Will you allow me to link my mind to yours? That’ll make things go more smoothly,” I said. Amaterasu nodded and I reached out, putting a hand on her muzzle and sending a bit of my own essence to join with hers in a simple scrying link. We settled before the fire, watching the hypnotic flames. My vision slowly unfocused. Beside me, Amaterasu’s long neck swayed like an entranced serpent.

Scenes formed in the dancing flames- people with tranquilizer rifles, sneaking into the lands of the wyvern, impaling them with the spikes. These melted away, replaced by scenes of the same wyvern clans attacking skycities all around the world of De Sikkari. One tiny skycity, though it managed to take out all of its assailants, still fell to the flames of destruction. I recognized it.

The skycity of Ben’talen had been completely destroyed.

Next came scenes of Argoth’s response, the great flagships with smaller strike-fighters swarming around them. Few of the skycontinent’s attackers managed to get near enough to do damage to the land itself. I recognized the flagships Kujata, Fenrir, Barghast and Tengu, as well as the Grand Flagship Phoenix.

Skycity after skycity appeared, most faring as Sevfahl had. There were other scenes in which humans spiked land-bound creatures and set them to attacking ground cities. Some fell, some survived. More of those attackers survived, running off into the wilds to nurse their wounds.

The scene shifted again, coalescing into images of a monolithic statue whose eyes glowed with radiant malevolence. Coil upon mythril coil glittered in the dark light. Another shift and we saw the same great creature, a Nagali, alive and in the flesh. A winged warrior drove home a spear whose tip was bound in parchment, impaling the beast in the heart, turning it to mythril. Images of a white feather, a palace in the mountains, a spear with a serrated tooth-like point. The vision began to fragment, but the final image that came to the linked minds was of a terrible cataclysm and a land sunk beneath the waves.

I blinked, vision returning to normal, and broke the link I shared with Amaterasu. I learned against the wyvern’s side.

“Mercy of Balgeras… the Nagali is waking. It was he who sent the humans to the wyvern and the wyvern to their deaths in the sky,” I breathed. Amaterasu growled, long and low. The sound hummed in my bones.

Al’dhumarna. Bound aeons ago on the Isle of Whispers. If he truly wakes, we are in terrible danger. It is the Nagali’s delight to cause havoc and destruction. We must recreate the binding in order to stop him.

I frowned, running my hands through my hair. I blew out a long breath. “We should seek Gasta, the Keeper of the Deep Forest on Argoth. If any can point us in the right direction, it will be him.”

 

Skycity Sevfahl, 10000ft above the Aeryth Ocean, Year of the Golden Hart, 2013 CE

Kasai watched from his perch atop the highest ramparts of the Inferno as his scapegoat walked back across the paddocks to the Argosian ship. He chuckled to himself. Now that had been a lucky break, finding another trespasser to take the fall for him after he’d carried out the assassination. Lucky break for the other, too, that the mage had come just in time to save him.

The Arkaddian uncoiled his wiry frame, running a hand over a scarred face. Kasai favored the looks of his people, though his right eye was the color of mahogany, glinting with reddish highlights in the light. Battle had taken the left. All that was a blind yimilky orb. Two jagged scars ran down the left of his face. The scars were a source of pride, the mark of a true warrior. His shoulder length red-brown hair was pulled up in a traditional Arkaddian bob.

Kasai was one of the Khan’s Harriers, an elite group that served as guards, assassins, information gatherers. The Harrier adjusted the slender swords across his back and slipped away into the shadows, lips curling at the mere thought of the assassination he’d been forced to carry out. He’d bet good vykr that the order hadn’t really come from the Khan himself, but had been instigated by the mage that came to Karokorum quite often of late. Kasai wondered who the other Arkaddian was and how he’d come to be on Sevfahl in the first place.

 

Dashmar, Evalyce, Year of the Golden Hart, 2013 CE

Merryn crept down the stone corridor and edged into a small work chamber off the left. It was the middle of the night and the room was lit only by a pair of flickering glowlamps. A small furnace stood in one corner, the door slightly open, radiating heat into the workroom. The lamps cast eerie dancing shadows along the walls and floor, making it seem as if the night air itself were alive.

A low table ran the length of one wall, tools arranged neatly over it. A handful of uncut gems- sapphires, rubies, emeralds, diamonds, even a single multi-hued zarconite- were piled upon a velvet pouch, glittering in the dim light like dragons’ scales. Merryn froze as the man sitting hunched over the table sat back and stretched, running a hand through thick blond curls, before returning to his work.

Absorbed in his project, he gave no indication that he heard her enter. Quiet as a mouse, Merryn curled up in the far corner. From her vantage point the area before him was visible and she could see he was painstakingly shaping an emerald. The man was Merryn’s husband,