The Island on the Edge of Forever (The Epic of Aravinda Book 2) (24 page)

The galaxy itself was depending on her.

CHAPTER
38

BLOOD RED EYES

Like a madman, the creature Razakh heaved in the sickly air of the command deck. Ahead, he could see a wealth of stars through the wide series of displays that ran along the front wall. Swooping consoles ran below the entire length of the displays, and when he heard the sound of a door open to his left, his eyes widened in expectation.

A dozen of his minions were pushing a bubbling mess onto the deck, and he gasped when he saw the full shape of the long, seething platform.

He stood up from the obsidian command chair and ran down to them with unrestrained excitement, the lime green light of the chamber glinting off of his thick black carapace.

“Sky God,” Zura said softly as he surveyed the platform, “the plan worked as you expected. Our larger vessels were hidden from their sensors during the jump, and cloak readings remain flawless for the scouts. We are now safely ensconced within a nearby nebula, and the entire fleet has been accounted for.”

Razakh retracted his claws, put his hand on Zura’s shoulder in an almost comforting gesture, and nodded.

“Yes, Zura. And look at what we have.” His voice trailed off as he got lost in observing the bubbling platform, covered in a thick layer of slime.

He wiped some of the slime off of the pod casing, revealing the face of a magnificently terrible Vakragha female.

“Durazha,” Razakh whispered, gazing onto her shriveled face. Her carapace had long been removed, leaving her nothing more than a desiccated brown and green mess of skin and muscle. She appeared to have been long dead.

“Despite her appearance,” Zura said, “she has been well preserved. Our scans show all of her internal organs intact, and the preservative has prevented any bacterial colonization. If this artifact does what you say it can do—”

Razakh whipped around and grabbed Zura by the neck.

“If?!” He shouted into her face. “When! When this artifact does what I say it does, her soul will be rejoined to her body, and she will live once more!” He released Zura, and she let out a small yelp.

She bowed down to him. “I am sorry. I did not mean to question your judgment. Please forgive me, Sky God. I endeavor to serve at your pleasure.”

The autarch’s gaze returned to the bubbling platform before him, and he barked to several of the smaller Vakragha minions to remove the protective covering. As they did, a terrible, putrid smell engulfed the cabin, but Razakh didn’t react at all, instead admiring the naked, mummified body of his future ally.

“Has the Informant been retrieved yet?” he barked.

“Yes, Sky God. She is being brought up now.”

“Sublime.” Razakh walked over to one of the sharp, swooping metal consoles that ran along the front wall and watched the lift indicator as it moved up one of the shafts. And when he turned around, a tanned woman with dark, soiled hair was being held by two of the smaller Vakragha minions. Over her shoulder was a blackened sash lined with filthy grey feathers, and in her hands was an orb that glowed in a soft bluish light.

“Lalantika,” Razakh said, savoring the word. “What a delicious name, and appropriate. Such a pleasure to have you here, at last. And I see you brought what I asked for.” A wide grin smeared across Razakh’s mouth. “Come over here.”

Tiika smirked and walked over, yet she couldn’t completely hide her sense of apprehension. Perhaps Lakshmi had been right. Perhaps she was dealing with forces far beyond her understanding. No matter. It was the only way to finally get what she deserved.

As she approached, Razakh’s crimson eyes grew wider.

“Give it to me!” he shouted.

“Wait!” Tiika said. “What about your side of the deal? How do I know you’ll give me my own ship and my own—”

The autarch flexed his fingers in the air between them, causing Tiika’s mouth to snap shut without even touching her. Razakh shook his head. “Oh, my little diva. Diva, diva, diva, diva.” He made a sharp, flinging gesture toward the ground, and Tiika tumbled to her knees, barely managing to hold onto the Kiss of Life. “What do you think I am?” He knelt down and plucked the artifact from her hands. “A liar?” He let out a chill laugh. “Rest assured that you will get what is coming to you.”

As he peered into its pearlescent surface, he made another gesture and several of his minions held her tight. She wanted to change shape, but whenever she tried, their claws secreted a dark slime that burned, dissolving the little black slugs in moments.

“That’s right, Tiika,” Razakh said. “Your tricks don’t work here. On your own world, you may be able to slip away easily, but even if you could, you wouldn’t want to, for you are here to witness something monumental: the revival of the greatest strategist of her time.” Razakh once again peered into the Kiss of Life, his eyes burning with excitement. He held it with his left hand and placed his right hand on Durazha’s head.

He closed his eyes, and waited.

But nothing happened. He tried again, this time placing the Kiss of Life directly onto her body, but there was no effect.

His gaze burned into the Kiss of Life.

“Accursed Orb! You are no better than the other!” His voice boomed, echoing down to the far hall.

“Sky God,” Zura said, “perhaps you still need something for it to work.”

“She’s right,” Tiika said, still held down by several of the minions. “I know how to use it, but I’m not telling you anything until you give me safe passage to a dominion of my own, just as we agreed.”

The autarch grinned sharply and knelt down in front of Tiika, his gaze burrowing into her dark eyes. He placed his hand just above her cheek and slowly brought his fingers together, twisting his hand in the process. As his fingers grew closer together, a pool of blood formed under her cheek. It grew and grew, and Tiika’s breathing went faster and faster.

Razakh’s gaze deepened, and Tiika couldn’t look away.

“Lalantika,” Razakh growled, “you must remember one thing about your Sky God.”

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

The blood had formed a round lump, stretching her skin into a strange, indescribable shape, and Tiika screamed out.

Razakh snapped his fingers together into a fist, and like a thunderclap, a patch of Tiika’s cheek exploded into a spray of crimson blood, running down her face and oozing onto the floor.

“Your Sky God does not need to negotiate. Your Sky God’s will is divine.”

Razakh stood up, and Tiika burst into sobs of pain. One of the minions pulled out something like a small rag and pressed it to where the blood was oozing out.

“Monster,” Tiika whispered.

“Sometimes,” Razakh said, standing up and towering above her, “it takes a monster to truly appreciate another monster. But I am not a monster, Lalantika. I am only trying to twist this galaxy into place, as it should be.” He walked over to the displays, still featuring Vaari’s violet sun. “Look at it! That’s your sun! Do you realize how disgustingly ugly it is? The Confederation seeks such wild diversity and variation. But I will bring this galaxy together. It is my destiny to consume all of these suns, remaking them into the Dark Stars they were meant to be.”

Razakh whipped around to face his latest victim. “But unlike the other autarchs, stupid and short-sighted as they may be, I see the value of joining forces with those of equal power, and Durazha is one of these. Together, we will unite the factions, and once the factions act as one, we will at last consume every star in this galaxy. That begins when we awake Durazha, and then we will jump my fleet out of this system and establish dominion over the factions one by one, until we unify them all.” He walked over to her. “So you see. You are part of a great tale, Lalantika. And if you assist me now, I will be sure to save you a place in the next chapter.” He knelt down, directly in front of her once more. “So tell me. How do I use the Kiss of Life?”

“You can’t,” Tiika whispered, still pressing the rag to her wound. “Only someone with a heart can wield it. I watched Asha do it when she healed Mira. Her hand was over Mira’s—”

“Hah!” Razakh burst out. “What kind of artifact would require such absurdity?” He huffed the sickly air again and stared her down. “All right, Lalantika. Proceed.”

“Me?” Tiika said.

“Yes. Revive her, and I will provide what you asked for.”

“All right…”

“Remember, if you try to escape, I will kill you without hesitation.” Razakh made a gesture, and the minions let her go.

She walked over to him and felt his dark gaze penetrate deep into her soul, still holding the small rag the minions had given her to stop the bleeding.

“Wait.” Razakh pulled the rag off and shot some slime out of his hand onto where she was bleeding.

She felt her cheek and was surprised to find that the slime had stopped the bleeding completely. Razakh handed her the Kiss of Life, and she nodded, holding it in one hand, and placing her right hand onto Durazha’s chest.

What followed was a sharp, vivid sensation, like touching a freezing pool of water. She felt a warmth flow out of the Kiss of Life, up through her arm, through her heart where it transformed from warmth into a powerful bolt of energy. The feeling was overwhelming to Tiika, and she saw everything wash out into sparkling brilliance.

To Razakh’s surprise, Tiika vanished completely, causing the Kiss of Life to smack onto the metal floor. But that was of secondary importance.

Durazha gasped, inhaling the warm, sickly air as if she were drowning. She heaved in and out for few moments, and then opened her bloodshot eyes.

A blank stare filled Razakh’s face. He hadn’t felt anything like this in a long time. “Durazha? Durazha, can you hear me?”

A low rumbling sound flowed out of her throat, and her eyes grew brighter, radiating a deep, blood red light all their own.

“Durazha, I have brought you back from the Abyss. Can you hear me? We are going to unite the factions, Durazha. We shall be unstoppable.”

“Yesss.” Durazha’s voice was weak. “I am… starving.”

The minions that surrounded them gasped. They were so short that they couldn’t see Durazha’s face, but they could hear her speak and went mad with joy, singing softly about the Dark One returning.

“Oh, yes, my dear. I almost forgot; I have an especially delicious creature for you. I will be right back.” Razakh said and ran down one of the halls.

Although no one could see it, a frail smile spread across Durazha’s face, and she wrote a little poem in her mind as she waited for him to return.

She spoke, faintly at first.

“O, foolish one who brings me back,

He does not know where I have been.

Eternally on the attack.

Committing fearsome acts of sin.”

Her poem took on a menacing, yet lilting, tone now.

“Found a Chintamani, I see.

Ancient Stone of Healing Water.

But now the strong will rule the weak,

And you are the weak, dear Father.”

EPILOGUE

Of course.
The Vakragha have such long lifespans that we should have anticipated progeny. But what happened to Tiika? Why did she disappear?

Tiika had bound her spirit to the Žha creatures, repurposing their cell structures to reconstitute her body. Upon using the Kiss, the intense Chintamani energy broke this binding, leaving her without a physical body, and successfully awaking Durazha.

And now she’s going to ravage the galaxy. How can you stop there? Will Durazha kill him? Is it your intention to leave us in suspense, Chronicler?

Stories take time to tell, and there are limits, even in this place. Come prepared. And review the first day’s story if you haven’t enjoyed it yet. Tomorrow, you will hear the story of Tavisi, where endless worlds of pure mind are continually reimagined. Worlds within worlds.

What about Oonak? Didn’t you say you would tell us what happened to him?

Indeed, I expected we would get farther today, but it is difficult to predict duration. Oonak will return. I promise you that.

Good. And what about the Breath of Life? Will they find it? More importantly, what will happen if they can get all three?

As always, there is much to learn and much to share. Tell the other seekers about the stories you’ve heard and remind them to join us tomorrow, when we will delve into the question of reality itself.