“Kinsman,” Ruxbane greeted. He dropped a trunk to the floor, and the portal dissipated. “I believe congratulations are in order.”
Iselglith blinked. His mind blanked.
“For the election.”
“Oh. Yes. T-thank you, sir. How did everyone else fare? I-if I’m allowed the question.”
Ruxbane palmed the stubble on his chin. “The Council is ours.”
“That’s great news, sir.”
“You have something for me, yes?”
“Oh.” Iselglith dug his paw into his pocket. He paused at the touch of the icy data core. “Here, sir,” he said, handing the small, glowing blue sphere over. “The defense plans for the central cities and all satellite pass codes.” He started to sigh but caught the breath in his throat. “I doubt the Varg would send a distress call, however. They don’t sound like they’re on good terms with the rest of Igador.”
“With the codes, the threat of a distress signal doesn’t matter. Their off-world communications will be severed just like the rest of the system.” Ruxbane pocketed the core and looked Iselglith in the eye. “That’s not the only reason I’m here.”
Iselglith looked away. “Oh?”
“I need you to come with me to Sinos. You are aware of the project we’re running there?”
“Only a little, sir, from the briefings.”
“Well it is vital. Its success means an unstoppable advantage for our forces. So I’m sure you understand my impromptu request.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Good. I need you to come run a dark aether compatibility test with a viable subject.”
“They found a volunteer?”
Ruxbane stood silent.
Iselglith didn’t dare lift his head to meet his leader’s gaze. “W-with great respect, sir, you’re a renowned researcher with several decades more experience than me, a-and I thought we had a scientist already there — sir. I’m honored, but I don’t know how much use I will be.”
“My field is hematology, Iselglith, and our scientist accounts for one opinion. We need perfection, and while there are many more qualified persons back home, your work studying the aether makes you the best person for this job out here.”
When the leader of the Rokkir made a request, you accepted. It’s why Iselglith took this post in the first place, it’s why he left the homeworld, Aloma, and it’s why he’d stand by Ruxbane’s side until whatever end met them. Letting Ruxbane down meant letting the Rokkir down, and Iselglith would never disappoint his people.
He nodded, breath still wavering. “I’m honored and humbled, your grandness.”
Ruxbane sighed. “Iselglith, this is the first time anyone has ever referred to me as ‘your grandness’, and the monikers are beginning to run dry. You know my name.” He waited expectantly, but when Iselglith couldn’t fathom what to say, he went on, “Shape into someone else. It would be untimely for the raiders to find a Varg in their presence, never mind a councilmember.”
“A-at once, sir. But, I will need, um, c-coverage. Clothes, sir.”
Rokkir garb was woven with solidified dark aether that shaped with its user, but its unique purple-black hues and hardened texture would be too much of a standout — especially on Modnik. Required to infiltrate the planet’s government, Iselglith had traded in his comfortable clothes for the ice planet’s traditional, too-loose, robed attire.
Ruxbane gestured to the trunk he’d brought on board. “You’ll find what you need in here.”
“O-oh,” Iselglith said. “O-of course.”
He took a steadying breath and resumed his native form. Fur, snout, ears, tail, and all morphed into an ebbing, formless cloud of darkness. The robes fell to the floor and a nervous quiver of purple lightning traced through him. He’d taken a copy of an Argel’s genetic code not long ago on another mission, and there were clothes that seemed a perfect fit in the trunk. It would have to do. He shaped, then dressed himself.
“Are you ready?” Ruxbane asked.
At Iselglith’s nod, Ruxbane held out an open palm. Darkness grew and spiraled around his gloved fingers, and a portal appeared once again in the hold. Iselglith stepped through, the feeling like falling through water, the pull almost like being sucked down a drain. Seconds later, he walked free from the black abyss into a brightly lit, narrow cave.
“How did…?” he started to inquire.
Ruxbane tapped his foot. Where the portal had spit them out, a concealed aether disc glinted in the dirt. Over years of covert infiltration, the Rokkir laid little discs like these so their kind could move anywhere. It was humbling to see so much hard work pay off. Iselglith followed after Ruxbane.
They rounded a bend and followed a short path to a large ornate door decorated in carvings of warriors and words Iselglith didn’t recognize. Guarding the door were a human and Argel whose armor identified them as raider honor guards.
“You again.” The human guard’s eyebrows slanted over his glowing red goggles.
The other man took a step backward.
“I have an appointment with your king,” Ruxbane said.
Iselglith flicked his eyes between them all, his heart thudding. It had been a long time since he’d been called to fight, and he’d never been good at it. He wasn’t even equipped this time, but if the rumors around Ruxbane’s incredible power were true, he wouldn’t have to do much to help. To his relief, the guard relaxed his stance and stepped aside.
“Come, Iselglith.” Ruxbane nodded at the two men as he passed.
Iselglith didn’t dare make eye contact. He stayed in his leader’s shadow, following him into the huge chamber beyond the door.
The size of the room was incredible — similar in scope even to the vast caves back on Aloma. A giant, circular sand pit took up the middle of the floor, and six people stood there, their eyes burning. But there was no stare more intimidating than those of the two men atop the mountain of steps at the back of the cave.
Even safe behind the leader of his people, Iselglith could feel the eyes of the man atop the throne boring into him — the eyes of the raider king. Iselglith didn’t recognize the man who stood beside the king, but he obviously held an important role — considering his proximity to the throne. Iselglith couldn’t stop his beak chattering while he avoided the gaze Ruxbane matched with apparent confidence.
“Why do you stop?” the king bellowed, and the people in the pit snapped to life.
Iselglith’s heart leapt at the thunderous noise as they all attacked one another. He twiddled his talons, but Ruxbane watched, and so he tried to, too.
There was no doubt which target he wanted to follow. She was clearly the star of the show, the young woman. Her umber skin glistened with sweat in the torchlight, her black hair pulled back into a flowing braid frizzled from the motions of combat. Her dark eyes narrowed at her targets — all five of them — as she maneuvered in the sand, her bare feet digging under the golden brown as she jumped and landed and ducked. She used her pole staff with finesse, swinging it along the natural curves of her momentum and drawing it back, luring her targets into range. She danced in the fight, a perilous siren of beauty.
All the men attacked her at once, a few with daggers, and at least one with a broadsword. Sand kicked up, forming a veil over the battle, but one by one men were thrown from the ring, incapacitated. Iselglith rocked on his feet to get a better view, but it didn’t take long for the fight to end. The woman remained alone in the ring, bowing to the king and the man who stood beside him.