Chapter 34

“What we know about the Aions fills up only a very tiny corner of what they were. We lack almost every piece of the puzzle, and much of our attempts to understand them come not from examining the evidence that we have but from pondering the empty shapes in our knowledge, like guessing at a puzzle piece by looking at where it would join to what we’ve already completed. We don’t even know what their species looked like. There has been no hint in any of the retrieved information. We don’t know how they relate to the shikari and their presence on worlds that were once Aion-controlled. Most pressingly, we don’t know where they went. Some propose that the species prepared their vaults as an ark to the future, knowing that their own time of extinction was at hand, but why would they? If they had foresight enough to predict their downfall and all the power that they clearly had, what could possibly have occurred that led to every single member of their species vanishing from the universe?”

—Selected Daybook Musings, R. Clarendon

The planet was farther out than any of them had expected, and referring to the Consortium’s well-documented visits, it became apparent that their ships had to refuel as a part of their journey, making as much of the trip via jump gates as possible, stocking up on every iota of etherium that was available to them, and then running their ship ragged to make it all the way out to the galactic rim where the Cantobus colony had been founded. If it hadn’t been for the reports of an essentially intact vault that nobody had scavenged yet, they probably wouldn’t have gone to the expense. And they certainly wouldn’t have introduced the risk of hiring a contractor from outside of their organization.

Rania Clarendon was as pretty as Mira had said, long auburn hair bound back from her face in a braid and freckles all over. She probably wouldn’t have been so pretty when the shikari were done with her. From what he could tell, she didn’t have any history working for the Consortium, or anyone in particular, going with the flow and joining whatever faction would have her as she pursued her interest in the Aions and their vaults. Somehow, she had avoided being sucked into the Seekers, but Sylvas suspected that was only because they operated closer to the galactic core, and she had spent the last decade or so out in the big, wild nowhere.

Sylvas and the Folly did not take so circuitous a route to reach Cantobus as had been necessary for the Consortium. Sylvas plotted a direct course for the system and then simply cast them into null-space under his own power. It would be the longest journey that they had undertaken since arriving on the ship, but it was hardly a great difficulty. Gravity mana made everything so much easier, and the fact that Sylvas was generating so much of it now, even with his reserves halved, meant that no matter how long the journey, they wouldn’t have to rely on their reserves of etherium the way that Hector used to.

The others had headed off to shower while Sylvas navigated them off the exoplanet. Many of the Consortium ships had broken and run after the base was taken, but some remained, attempting to blockade the Folly and prevent it from departing. Needless to say, a gravity shear cast ahead of the ship deflected the few lucky shots that he wasn’t able to avoid, and even the blockade scattered before the Folly came close enough that there might have been a possibility of collision. They were all washed up and chattering happily in the galley when Sylvas finally headed through himself. Hector was administering injections to the other two, his own arm already showing a patch from where he’d taken a shot himself. Malachai explained, “Inoculations against the toxins in the shikari blood.”

Hector cast a glance Sylvas’ way, “Are you feeling sick?”

Sylvas wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Nausea?”

“Yeah.” Hector had finished giving Malachai his injection and was moving on to Kaya, who looked like she was going to be a trickier proposition.

“I don’t really experience that anymore.” Sylvas was as surprised by his answer as Hector.

“Well…” Hector tried to line up the needle with Kaya’s arm, rolling up her sleeve to find metal had manifested across her skin to protect her. He sighed. “Have Mira keep an eye on your vitals. Any problems, let me know.”

Don’t fret, darling, I don’t believe there’s any possibility of the blood affecting us. We are simply too different now.

Despite that reassurance, Sylvas still took his time showering himself clean of all traces of the shikari. The time in the shower was essentially the only privacy he had guaranteed while on the ship, so he had to make the most of it. “Strife was taking over.”

I wish that were the case, darling, but it was all you.

“I’m not like that.” He turned his face away from the showerhead. “I’m not vengeful, and I’m certainly not reckless.”

Darling, you formulated your entire future around going after whoever or whatever destroyed Croesia. Just because you went about it in a methodical way, that doesn’t mean that you weren’t out for revenge. As to your recklessness, I’m sure that the young lady who had to keep stitching your body back together on Strife would have some opinions of how reckless you are.

“I wouldn’t charge ahead like that.”

Except you did, and frankly, you always have. Strife’s presence might be exacerbating some of your worst traits, but they’re still yours. It all comes from you.

“How did it change my spell?” Sylvas switched tactics. “Gravity’s Arrow didn’t have an aspect of war or blood or whatever that was when we wrote it.”

Much as I would love to lay the blame for that particular mess at the wolf’s feet, I’m afraid I made the adjustments on the fly when it came back into alignment, and you gained access to all of that lovely war affinity mana.

“You did that?” Sylvas scowled into the water. “Without telling me?”

As we discussed previously, in the heat of battle, there isn’t time for me to consult you on every minute detail. We simply need to trust one another.

Sylvas took a deep breath of the steamy air, then blew it out again. “You’re right. And it was the right choice. I just don’t like being surprised.”

War will find its own way of breaking out if we don’t find some way to direct it. This seemed like the most sensible outlet.

He turned off the water. “Better on purpose against the shikari than by accident while we’re in a tin can in space?”

Very much so, darling. Oh, and I should let you know, Miss Runemaul is lingering outside the bathroom door trying to hear our conversation. I believe she’s come to inform us that dinner is being served.

Sylvas chuckled despite himself, then shouted out, “Be there in a minute, Kaya!”

There was a bang on the other side of the door as the dwarf lost her footing and crashed into it before she stomped back off along the corridor, cursing under her breath.

Casting with war affinity mana is only possible when you and Strife have aligned. We only really become fully aware of it and the various other types of mana that usually elude us when you are in contact.

“There’s other mana?” he asked as he toweled off. “Of course there is. There are more than just a handful of different kinds of eidolons, aren’t there.”

I haven’t yet made a full accounting of all the varieties that we cannot typically access, but needless to say, it is bountiful.

“I’m going to need a lot of new storage crystals…” Sylvas sighed.

You’re going to need a bloody world soul tucked under your skin with all the variety that there is.

Sylvas seemed to consider this as he was pulling on his clothes. “If I moved some internal organs around, I don’t really need all those intestines—”

Darling, no.

“It’s an option.”

Not a good one.

When he had found some clean clothes and emerged from their communal bathroom, the smell of something delicious was already wafting down the corridor. They were in a spaceship, outside of space and time, traveling to a distant world where they planned to hunt and kill an alien queen to stop her from spreading more of her virulently vicious offspring across the universe, and Hector was frying bacon. Sylvas couldn’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of his life.

Dinner passed without much conversation of note, even when Sylvas had to let Mira out to try a little bit of everything on the plate. She kept to herself more than usual, which helped prevent too much public outcry, though she did manage to strongly insinuate that Hector and Kaya should share the shower next time to save water.

It was only after the eating was done that Hector banged on one of the cabinets overhead, and it disgorged a bottle of something that looked familiar.

Kaya’s eyes lit up. “Is that vlashgahr?”

Sylvas chuckled. “That’s whiskey.”

At that, Malachai seemed to perk up slightly. “I am partial to that drink.”

Kaya mocked horror. “You drink? You degenerate!”

Hector chuckled and reached into his cold storage for some cups. “I think we’ve all earned a glass after the day we’ve had.”

“A glass?” Kaya exclaimed. “I’ll need a bottle at least to forget the mincemeat room.”

“Well, this is good stuff, and it needs to last until we get back to the middle of somewhere and we can restock.”

The whiskey filled up each of the tin cups about halfway, which was an extremely generous pour by anyone’s measures. But Sylvas wasn’t going to object. He still had fond memories of whiskey after his first ever drinking session. They all picked up their cups and, at Hector’s insistence, raised them. “To as good a crew as this ship’s ever had.”

Malachai chuckled. “That is not saying much.”

Hector laughed, too. “Alright, to as good a crew as any ship’s ever had.”

“Well, now you are just being superfluous,” Malachai said, clanging his cups against the others before bringing it to his mouth and sipping with obvious delight. Sylvas couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Malachai looking that happy.

Kaya made a noise. “Tastes like metal.”

“We are drinking it out of metal,” Malachai said, casually.

“It’s aged in copper pot.” Hector looked a little dismayed at the endless criticism.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.” Kaya took another long draw on the cup.

Sylvas’ taste buds had changed considerably since the last time he had whiskey, his metabolism even more so. He’d really be able to drink a fiend under the table now. Yet through the changes, he now found new flavors and nuances in the whiskey that he’d have sworn were never there before. Without the chemical taste of the alcohol overwhelming everything, there was so much more hiding in the cup. “That’s delicious. Mira, come try this.”

She subsumed him and took a far too large gulp of the whiskey before finally saying, “Eugh.”

Hector chuckled. “So you like it?”

Mira said, “Hnggg.”

“It is very good,” Malachai added.

“Yeeergh.” She switched back with Sylvas with such force he rocked in his chair, then burst out laughing. “Okay, whiskey and coffee are both a no for Mira.”

Dinner was delicious, though. Please do mention that to Hector.

“She loved dinner.” Sylvas went on chuckling. “She thinks Hector is an amazing cook.”

Hector raised his cup in thanks, and the others raised theirs. Kaya barked out, “To Hector, the best cook in deep space.”

They all clattered their cups together in agreement, even Hector after he was bullied into it. For the remainder of the evening, there was some good-natured chatter about anything other than what they’d just witnessed down on the last planet and what they’d be facing on the next one, but there were no further toasts, even after Hector topped their cups up with a second round of whiskey.

Despite the copious servings, Sylvas was stone-cold sober by the time the others were ready to amble off to bed, so he volunteered to clean up. Hector blessed him for his generosity and offered to keep him company and tell him where everything was to be put away.

The other two headed off to their habitual pre-bedtime argument in their bunk, and Sylvas set to work on the various dishes they managed to dirty throughout the evening.

“Has Mira been working on reading the words that make up Strife?” Hector asked, almost the moment they were gone.

Sylvas cast a glance back to him. “Of course. You told us to.”

“And you used war mana, down there in the fight with the shikari.” Hector was stating the obvious, but Sylvas nodded all the same.

“Is that a problem?” Sylvas really wasn’t sure where this was going.

“No. Not a problem at all. Progress in fact.” Hector poured the last of the whiskey into his own cup. “I’m not surprised at how fast you’re progressing, just… well, yeah, I am. It took me months to start connecting properly with Cookie, even longer to start cycling mana through her, and even more time before I could see the mana that she sees.”

Sylvas kept his eyes on his work. “Well, as Mira is fond of reminding me, two heads are better than one, even when they’re… in one head.”

Hector chuckled. “You won’t need me much longer. Everything I’d teach you to do, you’re working out for yourself now that you’ve been pointed in the right direction. I should probably talk to the council after this gig. Get you and the kids your own ship.”

“I certainly wouldn’t object to extending my apprenticeship a little further,” Sylvas said cautiously. “We all enjoy your company, and your experience in all of this has been—”

“Useless.”

Hector sounded so defeated that Sylvas’ head whipped around. “What? No. You have been—”

“Wrong more often than I’ve been right,” Hector cut him off. “About the only thing I’ve been able to contribute that you and your gang didn’t work out yourself was a decent meal every day. I’ve got to do this job, it’s pretty much the only thing I’m allowed to do with a covenant, but you… you’re made for this. Flying around, slaying monsters, and saving planets.”

Sylvas didn’t know how to reply to that, so he kept his focus on the cleaning. “It is certainly less… restrictive than working in the Ardent.”

“I’ve been doing this a long time, and I do alright. I probably solve more problems than most people could even imagine exist out here, but there’s a reason I’ve always been out here instead of on the council or embedded somewhere important.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I’m a covenant mage, I’m worlds more powerful than most people could ever dream of, but up on the level of covenant mages, I don’t stack up high. Why do you think they could spare me to guide you through it?”

Oh, delightful, he is a maudlin drunk.

“I think you were chosen to guide me because you were the best person for the job.” Sylvas chose his words carefully. “The fact that I’m having any success at all is thanks to you.”

“Anyone else in the universe comes up with an infinite etherium source, they’re making etherium, forever. You come up with it, and you’re still more useful to the Empyrean out here doing things.” He chuckled bitterly. “Hell, you’ll be head of the council after Starweaver drops off or decides it’s time to step away. Just wait.”

“I have no interest in running a galaxy.” Sylvas finished up the dishes and turned at last to face Hector, tucking the cups and the spare seat away in the other man’s cold storage as easily as if it were his own.

“Power calls to power,” Hector said, ominously. “You’ll end up running things whether you want to or not, because that is what happens when someone as powerful as you comes along. You’re going to change everything.”

“I don’t want—”

Hector lurched up out of his seat. “It doesn’t matter what you want. Something will happen, and you’ll have the strength to make what is wrong right, and you’ll take it, and they’ll make you king. They’ll have to. How could anyone else be, when you’re out here?”

He shook his head, hard, like a dog trying to shake off water. When he was done, he sounded calm again. “You don’t need to hear all this. Not now anyway. You’re doing great, kid. Keep it up.”

He ambled out of the room, patting Sylvas on the shoulder as he passed and leaving behind a sudden and unexpected silence. Usually, Mira would have been the first to fill the silence with some banality, but tonight, she too was silent and still. Thinking over what had been said.

“Mira.”

Yes, darling?

“How close are we to fully integrating the eidolon and completing the first phase?”

Ask me an easier one.

He smiled. “You’ve seen Hector, and you’ve seen how far along we are in comparison. Do you think you can work it out?”

It isn’t as clean cut as circles were; there is no clear delineation. Sometimes, the eidolon and you are perfectly aligned, and I’d say the first phase is complete. Other times, you are entirely closed off from one another. Particularly in times of peace, like now. The bond between you is still there but dormant. It is changing to be more like you, just as you are becoming more like it. When you reach a point where you are identical, I suppose the journey is done. I suspect that the longer you are sharing a mindset, the faster the exchange becomes, and the more completely you become one entity, but for now, the connection is still spotty.

“Is there anything we can do to accelerate the process?” He didn’t head for his own bed yet, instead dawdling along to the cockpit to check over all the trajectory data he could have easily accessed through the slate in his own head.

When you are fighting, your alignment accelerates. Likewise, when you are angry or in the presence of a great deal of war mana. I can only suggest that you continue to simmer with resentment and brawl everything in sight.

Sylvas stared out at the absent stars. “Business as usual, then?”

Darling, was that a joke? An actual joke? From you? I had best make another diagnostic pass. Something has clearly gone terribly wrong with your brain.

Settling himself down, cross-legged in the command circle, Sylvas closed his eyes. “Could you run a sleep cycle for me here?”

Of course, darling. You don’t want to sleep in your bed?

“I’d rather not deal with Kaya’s snoring.” He smiled. “Or Malachai’s complaining about Kaya’s snoring.”

Good night, my sweet prince.

“Good—” 

She cut off his consciousness halfway through the phrase, leaving a faint laugh to reach his ear.