“But that is a discussion for another time,” Dorion went on after a long moment. For now we must focus on the next phase of our operations on Solta.”
“Trycon’s stabilization efforts,” Kasdren stated, knowingly. “The sooner we move in to clean up the mess and restore peace and order the better. It will rally public sentiment and support for strong retaliation.”
“Sect Security Forces remain on standby for immediate deployment to Solta to aid the local forces in Trycon,” Sarusuz added. “That is, once the quarantine is lifted.”
“The quarantine will
not
be lifted,” Dorion replied, shortly. “And no forces will be sent to aid them.”
Perplexed looks passed between Sarusuz and Kasdren before their combined attention returned to the Chief of State.
“Dorion?” Kasdren asked, carefully. “I’m afraid we’re a bit confused. If the quarantine is not lifted, how are we to see Trycon restored.”
Dorion returned their gazes, his own conveying something close to the degree of regret Jarred would expect of someone that had condemned tens of thousands to death. “Trycon is not to be restored. Much like a gangrenous limb must be removed to save the body, Trycon must also be severed. To save the Dominion. Trycon must die, though it will be reborn . . . as something far greater.” He looked to Sarusuz and Kasdren, who both appeared stunned, before continuing.
“I understand your confusion. I must apologize for not bringing the two of you into this portion of our plans earlier, but certain elements may have been difficult for you to fully understand.”
“
Difficult to understand
?” Kasdren echoed.
“It was in no way a question as to either of your intelligences, nor your devotion. You are both highly skilled in your fields and there is no question as to your allegiances. That is why you were invited into this inner circle. But these . . .
particular
plans required something neither of you have.”
“What is that?” Sarusuz asked.
“Faith,” Dorion answered, simply.
“
Faith?
” Kasdren echoed again. She glanced over to where Durak was seated in the circle, the large Gnolith having yet to speak. “And was the High Commander kept in the dark, as we were?”
“The High Commander and I share a belief system neither of you subscribe to,” Dorion answered. “Because of this, until all of the pieces were in place, he was the only one of you I could trust to understand. I apologize for that, but it was necessary, and soon you will know why you were kept in the dark.”
“
Will
we, Cal?” Kasdren asked, her outrage obvious. “This
circle
was built on a premise of trust and a belief in one common goal of seeing the Dominion returned to order. How can either of us trust
you
when you do not mirror it in us? I have to wonder what else you have been keeping from us.”
“Your anger is warranted, Lyshal,” Dorion replied. “If our roles were reversed, I would feel much the same.” His expression hardened. “But they are not.
I
brought you into this circle . . . because I value your expertise and council. But, if at any point, you do not feel comfortable with the situation or capable of continuing in your role, you can as easily be removed . . . and
retired
.”
“Apologies, Cal,” Kasdren returned after silent moment, the defiance removed from her tone. “I meant no disrespect.”
“Of course not,” Dorion said, with a friendly smile. “And there was none taken. As I said, the reasons for my secrecy will soon be made clear . . . once the Prophets have arrived.”
Not yet having spoken, Durak sat up in his seat. “The
Prophets
?” he echoed. “They mean to grace us with their presence?”
“Yes,” Dorion answered, looking at everyone in the circle in turn. “They do. It is a great honor to be granted audience with the Prophets, the heralds of the Gods themselves, one granted to only a select few. It is for this reason we have gathered in the Usarion Temple.”
Jarred knew very little about the Prophets, the supposed messengers of the Gods, apart from the fact that they were said to be seven in number and, conveniently, very few beings had ever been permitted to commune with them. Much like the Gods they supposedly served and represented, the total lack of any real evidence to substantiate their existence left Jarred just as disbelieving in them as he was their supernatural masters. Of course, he had thought the same of the almost mythic Rai Chi, until he had found himself faced with a party of the savage warriors. The Head of State’s declaration that these Prophets were to be present here, as improbable as it seemed, caught his interest.
Lyshal’s tone changed from it’s previous, almost sensual purr; a seductive tool she most likely utilized to influence her, more often than not, male colleagues and adversaries in a direction beneficial to her own ends; to one far less provocative that communicated her respect and understanding, whether or not she meant either of them. “Cal,” she began, appearing surprised by the Head of State’s revelation, but recovering quickly. “We are, of course, all honored to have these . . .
Prophets
. . . grace us with their presence. I know you place a great deal of faith in your beliefs. It is something I have always respected about you. And while these Prophets you find council with are part of those beliefs, their . . .
expertise
, as it were, is in the spiritual realm. Not the political. Though I understand your desire to reacquire their rogue-”
Dorion raised a hand to cut her off. “I appreciate your consideration of my feelings on the matter, Lyshal, but I am also not blind to your own. I respect your right to believe or not believe in what you will, though I would also say that the Gods hold true dominion over all things, including our politics, regardless of our acknowledgement of their existence.”
“That very well may be the case,” Kasdren said, grinning, “but I’m afraid the skeptic in me requires more evidence before I can firmly agree with you on that point.”
The Head of States’s face took on a troubled expression. “As does much of the populous, sadly. The citizenry lacks faith in much of anything. They need a
truth
to grasp onto. To give them meaning and direction.”
“Then perhaps,” Kasdren said, still grinning, “your Gods should present themselves to us all. Who could doubt them after that?”
“I do believe you are correct,” he returned, his gaze drifting off, thoughtfully. “And I have faith that They soon will.” After a moment, he returned his attention to the group. “In the meantime, the Prophets are the messengers of the Gods, and as such, their council is of great value to me and to us all. To ignore or snub it would be to our peril. As for their rogue,” he continued, his gaze drifting back to Jarred. “I’m sure our guest will be able to aid us with her return in short order . . . by choice or otherwise.”
It took Jarred only a moment to grasp the significance of the Head of State’s comments, at first confused by the inference to a
rogue
within the Prophets. The realization of who it was they were referring to hit him like a cold spike squarely in the chest, the breath almost leaving him.
Was it possible? Was Orna one of these . . . Prophets?
In his mind, it certainly made some sense. Her strange abilities. Her knowledge of things she shouldn’t have been able to know. But if she was, what did it mean? The ramifications were enough to set Jarred’s mind and emotions spinning out of control. Had she truly fled the strange order she allegedly belonged to? Or had she been playing them, playing
him
, the entire time, setting them up for a betrayal? His thoughts and doubts were like a chasm before him, which he was perilously close to falling into. He pulled himself back from the edge. He needed to keep his wits about him, now more than ever.
After a moment, Kasdren spoke again. “And when might we be expecting these . . .
Prophets
?”
Dorion shifted his gaze from Jarred to track around the chamber, moving from floor to ceiling. “They are close.
Very
close.”
The Head of State’s odd behavior seemed to catch every tradespeak fluent being in the chamber off guard, Jarred included. Even more strangely, on cue the lighting in the room began to dim and flicker, as though the tower was experiencing some kind of power surge.
“I must worn most of you,” Dorion went on, his focus returning partially to the circle members, “the Prophets do not travel by conventional means. Their domain is not . . . of this realm. Try not to be alarmed.”
Before any in the circle could query on what exactly the Head of State was referring to, most appearing on the verge of doing so, the lights again went into a flickering frenzy, the hair on the back of Jarred’s neck standing up on end. It didn’t take him long to realize that the effect was not the result of some fear of the dark he did not know he had, but that of an electric field that was building within the chamber. He also realized he had been feeling the sensation for longer than the last few moments. No doubt Cal Dorion was feeling it too, which was why he seemed to know something was about to happen. The source of the static field was manifesting itself in the core of the large room, a black void emerging into existence, directly in the center of the inner meeting circle, floating a meter from Jarred’s position, and it was growing steadily larger. Though tethered to the floor by his restraints, he did his best to back as far away from the anomaly as possible.
When the void had grown large enough to touch the floor of the chamber, it ceased to expand, holding its form. Nothing happened for an eternity, or was it only seconds? Jarred was too stunned at witnessing the manifestation of the vortex to comprehend something as trivial as the passing of time.
And then movement. A figure appeared, a shadowy silhouette against the already black void, and it slowly moved forward, breaching the barrier of the anomaly to step into the chamber. The figure was fairly small in stature, Jarred estimating two thirds his own height, it’s true form and identity concealed by the dark cloak draped over it. As it stepped clear of the void, another similar figure emerged, and four more after it. Six cloaked figures in total spread out around the inner circle, forming a crescent before the strange portal. The Prophets. Short one member.
Jarred continued to stare up at the assembled beings, waiting for the dancing shadows that worked to conceal their faces; caused by the still flickering lights; to finally lift and reveal what he already knew within himself was true. Finally, one of the faces turned in his direction, a pair of large dark eyes first becoming visible beneath the cloak’s hood, and then the outline of a face, familiar features that caused his breath to seize in his chest. And he knew then, as he looked into the face of a being that was a mirror of another he had so recently been entrusted to deliver to safety, that Orna was indeed one of them.
“Welcome, honored seers,” Dorion said, addressing the beings not as a Head of State, but a humble believer, removing himself from his seat to stand with his head lowered respectfully. “It is once again our great privilege to receive the messengers of the . . .”
The Head of State was unable to complete the formal sentence, his gaze drifting up over the heads of the Prophets. Jarred followed his line of sight back to the black vortex, still open in the center of the audience circle. Within it he saw the source of Dorion’s speechlessness, another figure, this one much larger and . . .
darker
.
Far darker
.
Chapter 41
Gaia. It was unequivocally the most beautiful site Elora had ever set eyes upon, and at the same time, the most terrifying. It’s large land masses, covered by continental spanning cities, visible even from space, were divided by expansive blue oceans, water making up the majority of the world’s surface area. Swirling masses of cloud weather systems crept slowly over both in a scattered patchwork of whites and grays. From what she understood, Gaia’s continental mega cities were actually made up of many different cities, broken up into jurisdictions for more orderly governance. The world’s capitol, Usaria, was the largest of all of them and the center of government for all of the Sect Dominion. And it was where Jarred had been taken.
Standing between the them and the planet’s atmosphere waited a myriad of orbital defenses that caused Elora’s chest to tighten with mixed awe and dread. Space stations, defense platforms, warships and fighter patrols formed a protective barrier around Gaia that dwarfed that which they had encountered when leaving Solta by many times. Without their vessel’s unique cloaking system, which rendered them invisible, both to the naked eye and to the sensory equipment aboard the various stations and vessels in orbit, they wouldn’t have stood a chance in passing through into the atmosphere undetected. They might not still.