Chapter 13

“We are your friends. Your neighbors. Your family. We are not some amorphous enemy lurking out of sight, or some shadowy organization trying to pull one over on you. We are people, just like you, and we do not deserve to be persecuted just because we believe in something different from the dogma that the Empyrean preaches. They say that the eidolons are not an existential threat, that they are the interstellar equivalent of vermin, who need only to be exterminated as they are discovered to prevent them from doing harm. That is a lie. Everyone can see that it is a lie. That the eidolons who invade our universe are intent on bringing about our end.”

—The Seekers of Truth, Recruitment Pamphlet, Part One

There was no cavern, and there was no sand, Sylvas discovered as he skidded out onto the deck of a silvery smooth ship that looked even more polished than the stark white Ardent one that they’d left behind. Without his concentration, the Waygate spasmed shut behind him, the impact of its closing rocking over everyone in the bay where it had been attached.

In his desperation, Sylvas had reached out for any familiar connection when he was opening the gate. He’d assumed that he had latched onto one of the two that they had used back on Strife, in the heart of the Empyrean, where they’d be able to gather allies, share what they’d learned, and plan their next steps. Instead, he had connected to the only other gate that he’d ever encountered. The one that the Seekers had installed on one of their ships to make stealing and smuggling eidolons around that much easier. They were in the belly of the beast, surrounded by enemies, and the only one to recognize it quicker than him was Malachai.

He erupted with a great corona of death all around him. Chill seeped into the bones of everyone close, and he began casting while the rest of the Ardent were still getting off their knees. His timing could not have been better. The broad but perfectly circular airlock to the chamber sprang open, and the sounds of blaring alarms echoed through. Red lights, flashing in the corridors, and a cadre of mages charging in to defend their ship from unwelcome boarders.

They didn’t make it a step into the room before Malachai’s spells tore through them. He had spent his time with Sylvas fighting only the deadliest of foes—eidolons and Shikari, ancient Aion defensive systems—and fighting mere mortals now seemed almost comical.

Death, raw and grim, tore through the charging Seekers, and they hit the deck before they even knew that they’d been hit, all life torn from them.

Sylvas caught Kerbo’s eye as the man rose, seeing the confusion there, and stepped forward. “We have just boarded one of the Seekers’ ships. They are going to try to kill us. Mage on mage combat. Be ready.”

“What the hell are we doing here?!” one of the few Ardent who didn’t look close to throwing up replied with a snarl.

“Not dying,” Malachai stated.

The Ardent’s tail lashed from side to side as she cast some defensive spells over herself. “Some escape that was.”

“Would you rather I open the gate and send you back?” Sylvas snapped, wondering if he could do exactly that. Unfortunately, as he probed the gate with his magical senses, it was so awash with chaotic mana that there was no chance of using it until it had time to dissipate.

Fortunately, though, the words were enough to end the complaining for now, and Sylvas moved up next to Malachai. “Nice work.”

“You would have done the same, I’m sure.” He was restrained, even by his usual standards, but the eidolon part of Sylvas could feel the rage bubbling beneath the surface. His immediate offensive on arrival on the ship had been an outlet for it, as much as a tactical decision.

“Listen… Kaya didn’t—” Sylvas started only to be cut off by the severity of Malachai’s glare.

“Miss Runemaul made the decisions that she made, and she will have to live with the consequences. At least I can now assure myself that the process we developed is safe, even if she partook of it before me.” Malachai strode towards the doors, manifesting his scythe from cold storage. “I’ve endured your covenant for this long; I shall endure hers with the same magnanimity.”

He had been dreading having this conversation from the moment that he saw Malachai taking an interest in forming his own covenant with an eidolon, but he had never pictured any of it playing out this way. “You shouldn’t be looking to—”

Malachai’s glare this time wasn’t just filled with anger but outright malice. “With respect, it is very easy to say that one should not seek power when one has all of it. Some might even consider it to be self-serving, though I feel I know you well enough by now to not believe such things of you. You simply have regrets for those things you have already made peace with.”

Malachai was trying to walk away, to get back into the fighting and away from this conversation, but Sylvas caught him by the arm. “If I had the choice, I wouldn’t have an eidolon in me.”

Malachai tore his arm free and looked ready to punch Sylvas for having the temerity to try and hold him back. Finally, all of that anger spilled over into his voice. “Then you would have become irrelevant. A background player in the tale of someone who had the courage of their convictions.”

Sylvas wasn’t afraid of him. A punch would do no more than break Malachai’s hand, but that didn’t mean the intensity of the man’s fury didn’t worry him. He tried one last time to reason with him. “Nobody should be—”

“It is all well and good to complain at the unfairness of the universe, but you must stop trying to stand in the way of those of us who are willing to face reality.” Malachai turned his back on Sylvas and began raising the dead to serve him. “Self-pity is unbecoming of your stature.”

With a clench of his fist, the fallen mages shambled back to their feet and headed out to intercept the next wave of Seekers. Meanwhile, Rania was helping to keep Kaya stable with an arm around her shoulders, pinning the dwarf to her hip, and Kerbo had rallied the Ardent back into fighting form. “We’re taking the bridge.”

With the gate scrambled and out of commission, they didn’t have many other viable options than seizing control of the ship and heading back to reconvene with the other Empyrean forces. “Seems like the best plan.”

Kerbo nodded past him. “We’ll need you and the corpse-botherer taking point. More so now that your full-metal buddy is out of action.”

Sylvas didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about what had happened to her, thinking that it might be better to leave her behind, so he was quick to point out. “She’ll recover.”

Kerbo shrugged. “Maybe, but she can’t fight now, and you can.”

“We’ll take point,” Sylvas agreed.

The fiend instantly tutted while shaking his head vigorously. “No, no, he’ll take point, and you’ll support him as gently as you can without ripping the ship to pieces.”

Sylvas turned back to discover that Malachai had already set off without any orders, looking for somewhere that he could burn off his anger. In the distance, beyond the alarms, the screaming started. He took off at once, pausing just long enough in his flight to give Rania a meaningful nod in passing. He was trusting her with Kaya, even though she had no idea what she was taking on. He didn’t really have much of an idea what she was taking on either. The early days of his covenant marked the only time his flawless memory now seemed to exhibit some gaps, as both his consciousness and his supplementary second mind were taken out of action at the same time.

What came next should have been a bloodbath, but there was no slaughter to be seen in the corridors ahead. No blood slicking the silvery floors. There were dead people, many, many dead people, who had their lives ripped away by Malachai’s magic, but it was lethal in a cold and calculating way that Sylvas’ own was not. They were simply dead. No blood, no torn flesh, just cold bodies. 

When Sylvas caught up to the man, he saw the methodology at work. The fallen Seekers that Malachai had raised rushed in ahead of him, grappling with the enemy, preventing them from casting, and pinning them in place so that they couldn’t avoid the sickle blades of raw death that he was unleashing in an almost leisurely manner. They died at the magic’s touch. They fell, and the animated bodies scurried on to attack the next line of defense.

They shouldn’t have been concerned about the damage that Sylvas was going to do when Malachai was the walking embodiment of death.

He caught up to the necromancer as he was beginning his ascent towards the bridge. There were countless corridors, cabins, and whole departments of a ship this large that they’d entirely bypassed. Swarms of opponents that could come pouring out and hit them from behind at a moment’s notice, but Malachai didn’t give a damn about a slow and tactical approach. If they had the bridge and they could hold it, everything else was irrelevant. With control of the ship, they could deal with everyone else easily enough. It occurred to Sylvas that the majority of the people on this ship, even the mages, probably weren’t trained for combat anyway. From all he’d learned of the Seekers so far, they seemed far more like an academic organization than a paramilitary one. Yes, they’d been able to field some decent and specialized combatants, but that didn’t mean the vast majority of them had any capability of standing up to even a normal Ardent assault, let alone face off against the wrath of Malachai.

Maybe tactics were still on Malachai’s mind; maybe he’d realized that the Seekers couldn’t bring any of their cleverly constructed countermeasures to their powers to bear without preparation time, so he was leaning entirely into the element of surprise to take the ship. Sylvas had almost managed to convince himself of that possibility when he saw Malachai step in past his undead minions and hack his scythe blade right into some random Seeker’s face.

Oh, that’s wrath. He’s quite angry, Mira commented. I…don’t like.

Sylvas reached out with raw gravity and pulled the man back. Ripping the blade back out through the unfortunate Seeker. Malachai turned on him. The perfect calm usually on display on his face was torn by more than his scars now. All of this time, he’d been keeping his temper under control as his worst nightmare had come to pass—Sylvas surpassing him so thoroughly that he became an afterthought. Maybe he had been able to find some peace in the thought that he would catch up, that he would surpass his rival, but now Kaya had a covenant. A mage who he’d never even considered competition was passing him by.

“You need to stop.” Sylvas held up his empty hands.

Malachai raised his own hand, pushing Sylvas back. “I do not need to stop. I need to win. I need to take this ship.”

He had to reach Malachai or this slaughter could turn into a tragedy. “You’re letting your emotions get the better of you.”

“Forgive me for lacking your soulless mien,” Malachai spat, aiming to wound. “I have the grave misfortune of being human.”

If he thought that he could get under Sylvas’ skin, he was mistaken. The anger that had been mastering him as he integrated the eidolon into his soul was gone now. He was in control.

Mira tore out of his body, occupying the wolf, leaping to rebound off the wall and land between Malachai, his undead legion, and the next set of doors. She could speak perfectly fine through the wolf’s mouth, and that didn’t seem fair to Sylvas. “You are going to get yourself killed, darling, running off without a plan.”

The wolf was big enough, imposing enough, that Malachai stopped in his tracks, thrown off by the sudden presence of someone else in the argument. “What plan could I possibly require? These Seekers are nothing compared to us. We take their ship, and we return to the mission.”

“What mission, Malachai?” Sylvas called from behind him. “You don’t even know where we’re going next.”

“I’m sure you will have some new orders to bark at us by the time that we’ve seized control of the ship and vented the remaining Seekers into space.” He snarled at the wolf.

“We go together then.” Sylvas tried to close the distance between them, to stand by Malachai’s side, but death radiated off him in a corona that made getting that close physically painful. “I’ll come on your crusade with you.”

The anger in Malachai’s voice had faded to nothing now. He sounded as calm as he ever had, but the words he chose belied the fury still burning inside him. “I don’t need you. I’ve never needed you. I was born for this. You are just slowing me down.”