| |
A New Maledek
––––––––
LANOLIN (FEBRUARY) 15, 1538
Forty-four days after the formation of the RT Alliance
Asrien Sea, Below Dark Man’s Bluff
Go to Idonia.
Dalonos stirred. His eyes met only darkness. As the anotechs healed him over the last few weeks, they had steadily drawn his body away from the surface. For a while he’d tried to cling to his former identity as Dr. Atien Belcross, but they insisted he become Dalonos.
Famished as usual, he closed his eyes and reached out with his new senses. Pinpoints of sensation alerted him to the nearby sea creatures. The anotechs could shuttle nutrients through his skin, but eating remained the most efficient way to gain sustenance. Usually, they let him play with the food, but today, a dozen jintals lined up to be eaten. The first time Dalonos had consumed jintals they had ripped his throat raw, but since then, they had become his favorite food. The painful scrape of their writhing spines was a fair trade for the delicious, spicy juices they contained.
After the quick meal, he tested his limbs, expecting them to be stiff with disuse. To his surprise, his limbs responded with supple grace he had never possessed before. Swimming with all his might, he shot toward the surface, scattering a school of multicolored fish.
Not so fast! The pressure change could break you.
He slowed then stopped altogether.
Don’t you have a way to counter pressure changes?
It was half-inquiry and half-taunt. The scientist in him loved discovering new powers, but resentment remained over how little he controlled his own life. He brooded while waiting for the anotechs to slowly raise him safely to the surface.
Breaking the water’s surface and breathing air again was the second most painful experience he’d ever had—the first being the initial acclimation to water. He had mercifully passed out the first time, but this time, his body was better equipped to handle pain. Millions of cells changed to handle the new environment. Dalonos suffocated and came to life again. Violent coughs jerked his body. Gritty sand pressed against him as cold waves crashed over him.
Clothes. You need clothes. We needed the others for repairs.
He finished coughing and frowned.
How did I forget that?
We deleted the memory, as we did with other superfluous thoughts.
The answer chilled him. Dalonos used the surge of burning energy that came with the anger to scramble up the imposing cliff face. Part of him relished each pain the rocks dealt him as he climbed. The cuts healed almost as soon as they formed.
This isn’t natural.
This is better. Now get to the top. We have brought you an Azhel priest.
“Why?” Dalonos asked, earning a stabbing sensation in his head. Tiny lights danced behind his closed eyes as he endured the pain. When it receded, he finished climbing the cliff.
Focus! You need clothes.
Dalonos giggled, then sobbed.
“I don’t even know—” He cut himself off and suddenly knew what they expected of him. His breath rushed out in a whoosh that ended in a curse.
You can’t be serious.
A girl appeared before him.
“This is part of your training.”
Dalonos shook his head, trying to make the vision go away, and blushed deeply.
“Your modesty is wasted on me, but it is preserved nonetheless.”
Her statement drew his gaze downward where he noticed a skirt composed of seaweed, sand, shells, and other debris. Its slight weight seemed disproportionate to the materials.
“It is not a fashion fit for the public,” the girl noted, “but it should suffice to let you concentrate on important matters.”
“Who are you?” he croaked.
The girl’s skin shimmered with brilliant blue-white light, causing Dalonos to blink.
“I wear the form of the Maker’s Daughter, but I do not exist here and now.” To prove it, the girl collapsed into a pile of pale dust that swirled in the breeze yet remained intact. Then, just as quickly, the girl reformed from the feet up. “If you asked the right questions, you would know everything. I am your guide to this new life. Call me Jalna.” The girl using the identity of the Maker’s Daughter turned and ran a few steps, pausing to beckon him forward.
Speech eluded him. His legs carried him onward despite his desire to disobey.
“Stop resisting. It is tiresome.”
“This is madness. I’m a scientist! I study life!”
“You were a scientist. You are us now. Your heart is capable of the deed.”
His legs carried him toward the victim who struggled against unresponsive legs. Dalonos imagined his expression mirrored that worn by the priest whose eyes pleaded for his life. He thought about leaping from the cliff to avoid his fate, but suddenly, there was a shift within his mind.
“Kill him.”
The girl vanished.
The pain disappeared.
A wave of strength cleared away every doubt.
Dalonos needed clothes to enter Idonia and speak with the governor. The priest’s robes would open many doors. Leaving the man bound near the Ash Plains would be cruel. Killing him solved both problems. Dalonos slowly approached the man. A dozen ways to kill him sprang to mind, but he rejected most as too messy.
Break his neck. Strangle him. Suffocate him.
His hands twitched, agreeing with the suggestions.
The priest whimpered. Dalonos sensed the anotechs making breathing such a chore that the man could concentrate on nothing else.
Can you stop his heart?
We can, but you must do this deed to earn our aid.
The unseen hands holding the priest suddenly released him. The man sank to his knees and gulped in air.
Dalonos walked calmly over to the man, wrapped both hands around his neck, and squeezed until the life left his eyes.
The trip into Idonia was uneventful. Once he engaged the hov’s autopilot, Dalonos concentrated on which arguments to raise with the governor. Getting to the Governor General’s Estate was simple enough, but getting an appointment proved much harder. Dalonos had to practically strangle the servant to get him to deliver the message.
Finally, the servant ushered him into a private office.
“You look good for someone dead more than a month, Dr. Belcross,” Lord Kezem commented. The flash in his eyes, said he wanted to kill him for not delivering the baby as promised. “You’ll be happy to know that an ambitious Tarpon youth completed your task.”
The business with Deanna and her daughter seemed a distant memory. Dalonos couldn’t be bothered with such trivialities now.
“I am Belcross no more. You don’t trust me, and I don’t trust you. But we can help each other.”
“What shall I call you? And if there’s no trust, why should I help you or accept your aid?”
“Call me Dalonos. Let me become that which you pretend to be. Let me become Maledek.” Dalonos deepened his voice.
Lord Kezem’s expression indicated surprise.
The anotechs flooded Dalonos with the knowledge of an unspoken question and an appropriate answer.
“I know you are Maledek because your mother, Lady Mavis, suggested you create a villain to distract the Royal House. It is working, but slowly. I can help.”
“Why do you wish to become Maledek?” Kezem asked.
“The Dark Ones wish it,” Dalonos replied. “Let Maledek create chaos. Then rise as a hero to rescue the people.”
“I see how this benefits me, but how does this help you? An ally with nothing to gain is dangerous.” Kezem frowned and his hands moved toward his weapons.
“Trouble comes. The Galactic Alliance of Populated Planets is expanding. This is our home. We will defend her. Reshner must have a strong leader soon. You must be king if you wish to save the planet from GAPP slavery.”
After a long stare, Lord Kezem nodded that Dalonos’s proposal made sense.
“So be it.”
