The Ashes of Worlds

But with the faeros gone for a short while at least, Daro’h’s people could recover their strength. With all his heart, the Prime Designate believed that Adar Zan’nh would free the Mage-Imperator. And as he believed it, so did the rest of the Ildirans, drawing confidence from their directthism connection to him.

To demonstrate his resolve, Daro’h emerged from his shelter deep in the mountains, calling his people to follow him out of their caves and mines. Beside him, Yazra’h gave a feral smile of pride in her half brother. “We cannot hide forever,” she said.

Stepping out of the tunnels, the frightened people blinked in the sunlight, glad to see the comforting suns again. Through thethism, Daro’h could feel the rejuvenation of the collective racial psyche, the surge of confidence. That confidence waned somewhat, as the long-isolated Ildirans saw firsthand the extent of the damage to the landscape.

Through the soul-threads that connected them all, Daro’h pressed his conviction on them. With his mind, with his determination, he rallied the people. “We will go back to Mijistra!” Along the way, he decided they would bring together refugees from their camps, find the many displaced kiths that had scattered across the landscape.

Despite his recent confrontation with the faeros incarnate and the news that his mentor Tal O’nh had died aboard the flaming shipyards, Ridek’h was one of the first to volunteer to go. Nira’s four half-breed children also insisted on walking in the lead, beside Daro’h.

After several long and wearisome days, the company reached the blackened ruin of Mijistra. When the Prime Designate looked out at the expanse of shattered buildings and flattened rubble, the collective wave of despair from his people nearly caused him to waver. Those who had come with him could not see beyond the charred remnants of what had once been the glory of their ancient empire.

And Daro’h knew that he himself had caused this destruction to happen.I am responsible. He could not stop staring.It was the only way.

Though he had witnessed the original impact, Chief Scribe Ko’sh was devastated to gaze upon the aftermath. His facial lobes shimmered in a storm of violent hues, and at first he could not summon words, despite his lifetime of telling tales. “It is all gone. Every scrap of our history — of our soul!”

Daro’h said in a grave voice, “No.We are not gone. If you are a rememberer, thenremember. You have a greater responsibility than ever before. So long as we live, we can re-create our past glory. We must show the faeros that we are not defeated.”

“But weare defeated!” Ko’sh cried.

Yazra’h struck the Chief Scribe across the face with a blow that knocked him to the ground. Ko’sh got to his knees, blinking, as her two Isix cats prowled around him, sensing prey.

Daro’h glowered at him. “I will not have theSaga say that we behaved as cowards, even in the face of great loss.”

From across the blasted landscape, more refugees arrived from villages and camps. They had sensed the Prime Designate’s call and followed him here, looking for answers. Daro’h intended to give them what they needed. Until his father returned, they were allhis people.

But when the storm of fireballs reappeared in the sky like an exploding globular cluster, he wondered if his followers were doomed after all. A rain of ellipsoidal fires streaked in smoldering paths overhead, thousands of fiery entities returning to Ildira along with faeros incarnate Rusa’h.

“Now they will annihilate us,” Ko’sh moaned. “We are out in the open, unprotected.”

Daro’h drew a deep breath, and the air felt hot in his lungs. He did not know how he could refute the Chief Scribe’s prediction.

But it quickly became apparent that these faeros had not come to exterminate the population, but to make a stand. The fireballs appeared to be in retreat — from Solar Navy warliners! And Roamer ships that streaked after them, firing small white projectiles. Whenever an artillery shell struck the faeros, an explosion of cold, white steam engulfed and smothered it.

Ridek’h let out a shout; Yazra’h looked as if she wanted to spring into the air to join the fight. The Ildirans who had followed him to the wreckage of Mijistra cried out with joy and relief.

Daro’h made his voice loud and clear. “Adar Zan’nh has returned!” The strands ofthism strengthened as he felt his father’s nearness rejuvenating his spirit. “And the Mage-Imperator is with them.”

Rod’h and his siblings gazed upward. “And Osira’h. And our mother.”

Yazra’h shouted triumphantly at Chief Scribe Ko’sh, making him flinch. “We arenot defeated!”

With a voice that held a wisdom far beyond his years, young Rod’h turned to Daro’h. “As Prime Designate, there is an important part of the battle you must wage here on the ground. Only you can do it — with us. Follow me.”

147

Sirix

To get out of the solar system, the black robot ships pushed their engines well beyond their design specifications. Even so, Sirix calculated that they weren’t moving fast enough to outrun the two swarmships in close pursuit.

These new Klikiss had significantly advanced their technology from their race’s previous incarnation. Their swarmships flew faster and could accelerate more dramatically; no doubt their armaments were improved as well.

But his black robots had made advances, too. The new framework battleships were far superior to the old Klikiss vessels, and he also had his stolen EDF ships. Sirix believed that his robots had a statistically significant chance of surviving against two swarmships, but only if he used sufficiently aggressive tactics.

The swarmships managed to close in on his fleeing group before they made it out of the solar system. Desperate to delay them, Sirix ran an assessment of the vessels accompanying him. Obviously, some would be destroyed, and he needed to choose. The slowest of the fifty-six craft was a battered Thunderhead weapons platform that had not been completely repaired. The platform lagged behind, and the swarmships were almost upon it.

Sirix decided to sacrifice it.

None of the original black robots were aboard the Thunderhead, only thirty-seven of the new robots released from the Hansa compy factories. Considering the circumstances, Sirix decided the loss was acceptable, if it bought enough time for his comrades to escape.

Without remorse, he transmitted instructions to the Thunderhead, and the new black robots dutifully accepted their orders. The weapons platform slowed and turned about to target its jazers and projectile weapons toward the swarmships. “Destroy as many of the component ships as possible.”

But the Thunderhead’s jazer ports and projectile launchers remained dark and closed. The weapons platform hung motionless, completely vulnerable. Something was clearly wrong.