35 - INVASION

In the hallway beyond, two giants in matte, white armor waited in silence. My first thought was that they were Sun Knights—the armor was not dissimilar; interlocking steel plates covered every inch of flesh, and their helmets were grim and featureless. Then I saw the four stripes painted diagonally across their chest plates in black. Their capes, affixed to their pauldrons by golden clasps, were also black, so much so that it appeared as though rippling shadows clung to them.

And lastly, there were their blades. Swords almost identical to Marak’s. Heavy and black, with strange switches built into the hilts.

These were the Talons of the Autarch, Marak’s personal bodyguard, and the most lethal individuals on the continent.

I could feel them watching me through their visors with cold dispassion. The Sun Knights had possessed bright, golden auras, difficult to get through, but not impenetrable. The Talons, however, radiated icy death, a field of pale blue humming around them. I wasn’t confident that I could get through them, not even if I committed all of my power to the task.

Once again, it struck me just how powerful my enemy was. How weak I was in comparison. Despair settled around my shoulders, a heavy burden.

Marak dismissed the two Talons with a wave of his hand. Either he was entirely confident that I was no threat to him, or it was some kind of game, a test, a psychological jab. He led me down a grand hallway, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, orange wood framing brightly painted walls which, in turn, were adorned with yet more paintings.

“Where are we?” I asked. I could’ve guessed, but wanted to know what he’d say.

“Althira,” said the Autarch, simple pride in his voice.

I let out a breath. While Amartia was technically the capital of the Autarchy, Althira was the true capital for all intents and purposes. It was the empire’s seat of power. An old city laden with history and gorged on blood. It was here that Marak had seized power, here that he had repelled the Ascendancy centuries ago, and here where he spent most of his time. In all my research, everyone said the same thing: that Amartia was the empire’s shining jewel, a place of endless wealth and beauty, but Althira was where the world was run.

And that meant I was at the very heart of my enemy, as close to the source of tyranny as I could be.

“And this place…” I said, gesturing around us.

“The Victory Palace,” Marak said. “The sixth floor, if you really want to know. But our destination lies beneath the building, in one of the Shadow Chambers.”

“And what exactly is down there?” I was trying hard to control my imagination, to put a stop to images of torture chambers and bottomless holes down which I could be thrown. There were entire underground complexes, it was said, where the Autarch imprisoned his enemies; they were forever sealed away in utter darkness, left to rot as punishment for daring to oppose him.

“You’ll see,” he said, and was that tiredness I could detect in his voice? “Better that I just show you. It is…difficult to believe.”

Those words set my mind alight with curiosity and burned away my fear. I wrestled with a thousand possibilities as we descended a flight of stairs and navigated our way through a complex maze of hallways and chambers. Everywhere I looked, a small legion of servants were working tirelessly. How many individuals slaved away within the palace? How many people lived in Althira? In the Autarchy? In the world? How many bright, glimmering souls contained within prisons of flesh and bone?

We descended more stairs, the Autarch always one step ahead of me, his movements graceful and confident. Soon enough we were underground, entering an inner sanctum illuminated by lanterns. Here, eight Sun Knights guided an iron door as thick as a man. The Autarch needed only to wave his hand and the door began to open. Now we moved down a dark, narrow corridor.

“I wonder,” I mused, “how much is hidden beneath this city? How many chambers and secret vaults and armories?”

The Autarch just glanced at me. “More than you can imagine.”

“It’s an advantage, I’ll admit,” I said. “Being able to live for three hundred years.”

“More than you can know.”

“Do you think you’ll ever grow tired of it? Of life?”

“No,” Marak said immediately. “But if I did, it would be no matter. I am not truly immortal—only protected from time. I could kill myself easily, or compel someone else to do so for me.”

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“I volunteer,” I said, and laughed a little. The Autarch did not laugh. His stare was cold.

“Is that your aim?” He asked. “To kill me? Is that why you play silly games with the Thorns?”

I regretted saying anything at all. “Yes,” I said reluctantly. “That is my aim.”

“Why?”

“You’re a tyrant. You’re a man who would rule all the universe if you could. You would wage war on anything and everything just for the sake of it. The Autarchy is oppressive—”

“It is necessary,” he interrupted. “Every single thing I do. There is a reason for it all. And why wouldn't there be? Do you think I’d waste time and energy on rules that didn’t have a purpose?” He stopped and turned to face me, dominating the corridor, looming over me. “Once, when I was young, I was driven by ego, by ambition, by a lust for power and a need to be recognized. That was three hundred years ago, Aurion. The passing of centuries has a curious effect on the human mind and spirit. I am not the same man I was fifty years ago, let alone a hundred or more. Understand that. Understand, also, that there is a bigger picture you can’t yet see—and which I intend to show you very shortly. So. Be patient.”

I ground my teeth together. I hated when people talked down to me, despised condescension beyond words. It made me want to hit him. Yet then the logical flood of thoughts: that, if there was anyone who could speak down to whoever they pleased, it was this man. That, next to him, I was just a child. Less than a child, even.

We continued onward.

Until we reached a chamber that I sensed was our destination. A woman and a man, walking side by side, passed us by, the two dressed in uniforms of dark gray, with small, golden pins affixed to their breasts in the shape of a grasping hand. They bowed to the Autarch, who offered them a polite nod. A little further on, another Sun Knight, tall and imposing and with their hands resting easily on the hilt of their immense sword. Elsewhere, I heard distant, muffled conversation, and boots clacking against the polished floor. The lanterns flickered and shadows writhed.

Another iron door barred the way. I could feel the weight of what waited on the other side, and knew that I wasn’t going to like this. Was it too late to turn back?

But no. Curiosity had always been both my greatest strength and my worst vice.

I cannot not know things. I was insatiable.

Marak met my eyes. “Brace yourself.”

And then he opened the door.

The chamber was not particularly large. A windowless rectangle, every surface was a dull, light gray; iron, I realized. The room was lined with iron. I’d heard that some bank vaults were protected in such a way. But this was no bank vault—in fact, the space was entirely empty except for two things. The first was a steel table in the centre of the chamber. The second was the body lying upon that table.

I froze, eyes going wide. A dead man had been my first thought—but now I looked closer.

He was naked, and very white, as though drained of all his blood. His head was strangely elongated, as though the skull had begun to unfurl outward like a blossoming flower. Vast, black eyes remained open even in death, cold and sightless, but twinkling with a thousand captured stars. His jaw, too, seemed distended, and as I watched, the Autarch moved toward the table, stopping when he was right next to the corpse. He held out a hand. A knife appeared in his grip. He inserted it into the dead thing’s mouth and pried it open; I heard a tooth crack. Now he used the knife to prod at the tongue within, to drag it out of the mouth so that it was on full display. It was far too long. Far too thick, and purple, as though rotting. The very tip of it was forked, like that of a reptile. The rest of the body, from the neck down, appeared relatively normal, except for strange discolorations of the flesh, patches of black and purple linked by faint veins.

“I…I don’t understand,” I said slowly.

The Autarch sighed. “And yet you must. This man, as you can see, is infected. It is…like a disease. When a person is infected, they start to change. Their brain develops rapidly, swelling, changing. There are other symptoms that you can obviously see—the changes to the eyes, jaw, tongue. My surgeons inform me that there are more subtle alterations to the bones and organs, but…that doesn’t matter right now.” He looked right at me. His expression was weary. It was not an expression I’d ever expected to see on this man’s face, and I found it disconcerting.

“Here is the bigger picture, Aurion,” said the Autarch. “There are other worlds in the universe. In our galaxy—if you know what that is. Thousands of them. Perhaps millions…I’m not sure. Nearly all are desolate rocks, devoid of life. But there is one other, aside from our own, that I can tell you for sure possesses life. I know very little about it. I don’t know what it’s called. I don’t know the true nature of our enemy. I know, however, that they are capable of opening up gateways, and that they have done so to our world.”

Here, I opened my mouth to say something, or perhaps even to laugh at the ridiculousness of what I was hearing, but the Autarch held up a silencing hand and continued. “This disease is of their own making. They have opened up these portals, Aurion, these gateways, and through them, they have sown the seeds of infection. This man is not their only victim. So far, there have already been dozens of others. We hunt them down as best as we can, but it is difficult. They are intelligent, and resilient.”

My mind raced. I didn’t know what to say. It could’ve been a trick. An attempt at deception—but to what end? Merely to distract us? I didn’t think so. It was too elaborate, too overly complex for such a simple aim. Leaving me forced to assume he was telling the truth. That this impossibility was somehow real.

A whole other world. An alien disease. Gateways linking the far reaches of the universe. My head spun. I wanted to sit down.

“But…” I struggled to get anything out. “To what end?”

And now the Autarch appeared so grim that I no longer wanted the answer.

“To gather information,” he said, exhaustion beneath his words. “This, Aurion, is the first stage of an invasion.”