The Ashes of Worlds

“I can still feel it,” Jora’h said to her. The star-sapphire glint in his eyes showed an edge of frenzy. His hands trembled, and his long braid had begun to unravel. “Ildira is wounded.”

The Chairman refused to set him free. Though he knew the faeros were attacking Ildira, he remained oblivious to the urgency — or perhaps, Nira thought, he was well aware of the situation and was using it for his own purposes.

The dozen bestial-looking guard kithmen growled and flexed their clawed fingers as they prowled the perimeter of the former mess hall where the hostages were allowed to gather. Though stripped of their crystal katanas, the hopelessly outnumbered guards were ready to tear the humans apart, given the slightest signal from their Mage-Imperator. Nira tried to calm Jora’h, and as he relaxed, so did the guard kithmen.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Jora’h turned to whoever was coming, setting his face in a hard, commanding expression. Even under these appalling circumstances he clung to a pride and dignity that Nira admired. She moved next to him, offering all her support.

Five EDF soldiers with rifles on their shoulders marched to the doorway and stopped. Base Commandant Tilton, a man with large, slightly bulging eyes, entered next and scanned the chamber to assess where everyone was. He had a weak chin that seemed designed for a beard, despite EDF regulations prohibiting facial hair. When Tilton finally spoke in a reedy voice, he addressed someone behind him in the hall. “The room is secure, Mr. Chairman.”

Basil Wenceslas stepped in alone, wearing a business suit that set him apart from all the military personnel. The guard kithmen closed in around the Mage-Imperator, and Jora’h did not tell them to back down. He coldly faced the Hansa Chairman, refusing to address his supposed counterpart with any title or formalities. “My Empire is under attack. Millions, if not billions, of my people are dying because you keep me here. Release me.”

“Certainly. provided you agree to a few simple terms. I thought I had made my expectations perfectly clear.” He responded with an obviously false smile. “Break your agreement with Peter and the outlaw Confederation. Declare that he’s a rebel and publicly support me. You can do it all in a single speech.”

Jora’h’s voice was ragged and distraught. “I am the Mage-Imperator. My promises are more than wind. By holding me here, you have declared war on the Ildiran Empire. My Solar Navy will hold you responsible for every Ildiran death that — ”

The Chairman gave him a dismissive wave. “Your Solar Navy is in a shambles. Bluster all you like, but now that I know your battleships are busy fighting the faeros, I have even less to fear from them.”

Jora’h’s journey to Theroc to cement an alliance with the Confederation had been a dramatic move. He had admitted the errors of previous Mage-Imperators, and King Peter had suggested that the two great races put their pasts behind them. New leaders, new times, a new future.

But now the relationship between Ildirans and humans — at least these humans — had forever changed.

Ironically, Nira realized that Jora’h’s father, like Chairman Wenceslas, would have betrayed anyone necessary to achieve his own ends and to protect the Empire. He would have had no qualms about breaking his alliance with the Confederation and making a pact with the Hansa if it served his purpose; nor would he have balked at breaking the newly made pact to be safe again. Mage-Imperator Cyroc’h had kept many secrets from the Ildiran people and even killed his own rememberers when they discovered too much.

Jora’h, however, was most emphatically not his father. He would never give in to the Hansa’s coercion.

Chairman Wenceslas continued to prod him. “Where is the Confederation now? Are they here to help you? Have they responded to your alleged crisis on Ildira, or have they left you entirely alone? Why remain loyal to such fair-weather friends. Why not end this? You can be on your way in no time.”

“I don’t believe he has any intention of freeing you, Jora’h,” Nira said. “His actions speak clearly enough.”

“I agree. It makes my decision even more straightforward.”

The Chairman was not impressed. “In the meantime, we’ve finished an analysis of your flagship. Or should I say the newest addition toour fleet? Since the Earth Defense Forces have been severely depleted, we need every viable ship. Enemies continue to abound. in all directions.”

Jora’h said in a cool voice, “Then perhaps you should not have made so many enemies. I will not permit you to incorporate part of the Ildiran Solar Navy into your military.”

The Chairman shrugged. “It’s a perfectly functional ship. I can’t let it go to waste.” He turned to Commandant Tilton. “Send word to Admiral Diente to prepare for a thorough test cruise.” Recognizing the name of the man who had ambushed the Mage-Imperator’s warliner on its way from Theroc, Nira scowled.

The Chairman flashed Jora’h a distasteful smile. “Admiral Diente will take your ship far outside our solar system to see what it can do. And, since you still need to come to your senses, I have decided that you will accompany him — all alone, so you’ll have uninterrupted time for contemplation.”

“If you isolate him from all Ildiran contact, he’ll go insane,” Nira cried. “Even the Mage-Imperator can’t bear that.”

“Oh, dear. That hadn’t occurred to me.” The Chairman’s voice was rich with sarcasm. “He can change his mind anytime he likes.” He waited, but Jora’h did not respond. Annoyed, Basil Wenceslas shook his head. “I am so tired of people being obstinate and intractable instead of pulling their own weight to solve a crisis that affects us all.” As if a timer had gone off, he signaled the guards in the hall. “That is all the time I can devote to the matter. I must get back to Earth. Admiral Diente has his orders. Enjoy your solitary journey, Mage-Imperator. I trust it will help you to think more clearly.”

10

Prime Designate Daro’h

Mijistra was on fire, and the faeros reveled in it.

Thanks to the sacrifices of countless guard kithmen, Prime Designate Daro’h had escaped from the Prism Palace along with his sister Yazra’h and Nira’s five half-breed children. They had barely gotten away from the flaming avatar of Rusa’h as he surged through the crystalline corridors, destroying everything in his path.