Chapter 15 - Part III

(Aleron)

#

At his station, Galahad stiffened before half spinning round to face me with a horrified look on his face.

“Gawain is down, Sire!”

At first I thought he was joking. “Down?”

“Guinevere and Gawain were ambushed by an unknown party. Guinevere is a little roughed up but is attending to him but Gawain’s been seriously injured.”

“Did both of them ingest Aventis blood?”

Galahad shook his head tightly. “No, Sire.”

I felt cold as steep concern for my subordinates filled my blood. “Deploy the medical drones.”

I hadn’t noticed until then that Galahad had a finger on the photon console that he now pressed. “Done, Sire.”

In a corner holovid window, I caught a fleeting glimpse of two drones shaped like giant white donuts launch from the Albion’s portside and quickly race away toward the entrance to the Old Docks.

Gawain reported, “The drones are being guided by Guinevere’s signal. I have Gawain’s life sign readings upon that holovid.”

I stared at the window that appeared and read the numbers. They didn’t look good. His heart rate was down and his blood pressure was falling fast despite the efforts of his Skin-Regalia. Then I saw him flatline as his heart gave out.

I was on my feet before I noticed. “Gawain….”

Abruptly, Guinevere’s voice broke into the Tactical Room. “Sire! Can you hear me?”

Galahad responded before I could. “We copy you fine, Guinevere.”

“Gawain’s heart has been injured. His Skin-Regalia is keeping his body alive by acting in its place. It’s circulating blood through his body, but he’s lost consciousness.”

Galahad said, “We understand, and the drones are on their way.”

I cleared my throat. “Guinevere, report. What the Hell happened?”

“It was the female smuggler. She came out of nowhere and speared Gawain, and she used her Vector Wings to knock me out of the fight. By the time I recovered, Gawain had been speared twice and both she and the Siren were gone. I’ve relayed the event data to the Albion. I will admit, I don’t recall ever seeing her before, but I do recognize her Artifact.”

“What kind was it? What class and type?”

I could hear Guinevere swallowing hard before delivering her answer. “Ruler Class. Type Morrigan.”

I sat back down in my throne chair atop the dais in the center of the Tactical room. “Are you sure, Guinevere?”

“Yes, I’d stake my life on it.”

Galahad displayed a battle record on a high floating holovid. “Sire….”

On the holovid window, I watched a black and purple clad woman with long flowing lilac hair, wearing a visor over her face. Her arms were encased in black, thorny armor, and her legs were more or less the same, with feet adorned with razor sharp knives. She was standing at a distance with an arm stretched forward, and two winged shadows were racing back to her side. A moment later a wicked looking spear flew into her waiting hand. Then she turned, and leapt into the depths of the Old Docks.

“Play it back,” I requested, and watched it a second time.

An unpleasant sensation ran through me as I realized that despite the situation – despite an important subordinate of mine being critically wounded – I was feeling a distinct thrill at knowing that one of the few Ruler Class Artifacts was here in Pharos. The prospect of capturing it and its Meister had elicited dormant feelings within me. I was like a schoolboy who’d just learnt that a limited edition prized item was now available.

The Kaiser’s Blessing, the Arturio’s Pendragon, the Leonidas’s Resolve, the Nemes of Ramses, and now Morrigan, The Phantom Queen, were all here on Pharos.

I swallowed hard, and after double-checked that I wasn’t drooling, I clamped down on my rampant feelings.

Addressing Galahad, I said, “Launch a shuttle to pick up Gawain and Guinevere. Have it fly them back to our medical facilities at Public Security. Then have Gabrielle use her Lorelai to sweep the surveillance net in the area of the Old Docks, any roads leading in and out, and to look for anything suspicious.”

Galahad nodded as he tapped away on his photon console. “It shall be done, Sire.”

I leaned back in my throne chair. “I want that Meister found—”

A call from the bridge interrupted me.

“Sir, we’re in position.”

The situation notwithstanding, I failed to suppress a wolfish grin. “Fire at will, Captain.”

“Aye, sir. Firing at will.”

I would make sure to deal with Gehanna first. Then I would close the noose around the Meister of that Morrigan, and strangle her movements.

Both of you will pay dearly for hurting my people.

Galahad threw me a quick glance over his right shoulder. “Lancelot cut off communications with us.”

I clenched my jaw briefly. “Has he now….”

Galahad glanced at me again. “Hunter Seekers are away.”

“Very good.” My elbows on the armrests, I took a deep breath and expelled it heavily. “Now, Gehanna, let’s see what you’ll do.”

#

(Merkala)

#

I couldn’t hurt him.

No matter what I tried, or how I hard I tried, I just couldn’t hurt him.

The blades of my twin-ended sword-spear would hold back or divert at the critical moment when I needed to land a hit.

But it wasn’t my weapon doing that – it was me.

I was diverting my aim, shifting it by centimeters, altering it by a single degree, or holding back for a half second – all of which resulted in a miss or a glancing blow that did no damage beyond shattering a barrier-field or two.

I couldn’t hurt him.

I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him.

When I thought of wounding or injuring him my heart twisted in agony and I retreated from him. But as we traded blows with our weapons wrapped in piercer and barrier-fields, I realized that it wasn’t just me.

I was convinced he was holding back too.

Lancelot delivered a combination of strikes that had me skipping back to yield against the tremendous blows that shattered the barriers sheathing my sword-spear. As the last barrier broke apart and faded away, his sword’s piercer-field clashed with the piercer around my sword-spear, sparking flashes of emerald light that looked bright in the weak light of the Old Docks.

I put my strength and Seraphim’s into parrying the bow, but when I tried to deflect it and push away, he twisted his sword and locked his weapon against mine.

I found myself looking up at him as he put an enormous amount of pressure on keeping me down.

“…why...?” he breathed out through clenched teeth. “…why does it hurt so much…?”

I gasped for air, and willed Seraphim’s four angel wings to generate an effect-field to help support me.

However, almost immediately he did the same, and in the corner of my eye I saw the six black Vector Wings arrayed around him reconfigure as they manifested effect-fields to counter mine.

My gaze was drawn back to his eyes, and agony lanced through my heart.

“…stop…please…,” I whispered. After a breath, I added, “You’re hurting me.”

Lancelot’s face constricted in pain.

A heartbeat later, a loud roar bellowed from the depths of his chest, and with one tremendous push, he flung me away.

I was shocked by his strength, but what truly gave my heart pause was the despair contorting his face.

As I flew through the air, Seraphim hastily engaged maneuver-fields, and I back-flipped – Angel Wings and all – before landing with surprising grace. It was a well-practiced move that I’d performed a hundred times before, so my touchdown was more second nature than anything else. Had it not been, my state of heart and mind would have dropped me into an ungraceful tumble along the ground.

I looked over at Lancelot standing some twenty meters away, breathing heavily, the heat from his glare palpable even at a distance.

But worse than that, I felt as though that glare was a knife twisting slowly in my heart.

I lost strength in my legs, and fell to the ground when they turned rubbery and weak. And then, adding to my shame, I felt tears well up in my eyes then run rivulets down my cheeks.

“…why…?” I croaked out between breaths. “...why do I feel this way…again…?”

No, it was worse than last time.

Ten years ago, I’d fled because I couldn’t understand what I was feeling.

I fled for the first time ever since unlocking Seraphim and drawing out its power that allowed me to face and defeat numerous opponents…including my sister. But I was unprepared for the way Seraphim reacted to the Arturio's Pendragon.

Now, ten years later, I was experiencing the same feelings once again, and this time…having loved and lost…I recognized the feelings seeping out of Seraphim that soaked my heart and mind. What I had feared was now undoubtedly true. In fact, there was no doubt in mind that my belief was indeed the truth.

Whomever had possessed Seraphim before me, had also held an incredibly strong love for the man who wielded that Arturio’s Pendragon. Those feelings were ingrained in my Artifact, as his feelings were ingrained in the Arturio’s Pendragon.

It was these intense emotions that stayed our hands in battle.

It was the reason we could not hurt each other.

Knowing this, and accepting it, I found myself burning with despair, frustration, and anger.

I wanted to rip free of these feelings that didn’t belong to me, and cut down the man standing before me.

I wanted to see him bathed in his own blood.

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With a scream, I leapt back with enough force to crater the ground beneath me, and cast me through the air some fifty meters.

Touching ground, I summoned Seraphim’s two remaining Angel wings from her Sarcophagus. Enshrouded in the black mist, I sensed the Sarcophagus peep through the breach between Pocket Space and real-space. It delivered the wings that promptly attached to the dove-like body of the Core floating behind me.

With the breach sealing shut, and the mist fading away into the expanse of the Old Docks, I felt Seraphim attain her full potential. A single thought command to Seraphim was all it took to initiate a power-up that would allow me to cast Vector Lightning from each of the six wings. A few seconds later, with Lancelot clear in sight some seventy meters ahead of me, I took a deep breath, and screamed at him thereby releasing my pent up fury.

If there was distance between us, then I shouldn’t feel the overwhelming urge to avoid hurting him. My aim would be true, and I would immolate him to a crisp.

It was time to make up for lost time, and cut lose like I should have done ten years ago when I first encountered this particular Artifact. The men wielding it were different, but Seraphim’s reaction to the Arturio’s Pendragon was not. In fact, I truly believed it was stronger than what I’d experienced the first time around.

The Angel Wings fanned out and a moment later all six flared brightly as they delivered a barrage of Vector Lightning at the man standing in the distance.

When there’s lightning, there’s thunder.

It was no different with Vector Lightning.

Thunder boomed out all around me, made almost deafening within the enclosure of the Old Docks. It rolled like a raging tsunami, spreading far and wide into the expansive level.

Far ahead of me, the Vector Lightning ripped up the ground around Lancelot, and shattered the wall of barrier-field hexagonal panes floating before him.

I concentrated my aim, and fired a second barrage, unwilling to give him more than a moment’s respite.

In seconds, he disappeared from view within a growing cloud of white pulverized rock and permacrete.

I fired again, and a third barrage of lightning turned that region of the Old Docks into abject ruin.

Judging that was enough, I held back on firing a fourth time, though I was tempted to do so since either the ceiling was likely to cave in on my opponent, or the floor would give away under him.

Exhausted, I staggered for a few steps before regaining my balance, and peered at the cloud of powdered rubble.

I watched and waited for it to fade away, aware of the seconds ticking by.

When it finally cleared sufficiently for me to see into its midst, I held my breath and then moaned in despair.

No—it can’t be. Not with that much Vector Lightning. It can’t be!

Lancelot stood in the middle of the torn up ground, his longsword in hand yet pointed diagonally downward, his six black Vector Wings floating before him in a wide crescent.

Why? That much Vector Lightning should have overwhelmed him!

Was it true then? Was the Arturio’s Pendragon truly as strong as the rumors implied?

*Why? I asked my Seraphim.

After a heartbeat, it replied with a single thought pulse that stole my breath.

[VECTOR LIGHTNING OUTPUT AT TWENTY PERCENT]

“What…?”

[VECTOR LIGHTNING OUTPUT AT TWENTY PERCENT]

I swallowed hard as my feelings grew conflicted. “Why…? Why did you reduce the output?”

[AT YOUR COMMAND]

I froze. “What? No. That can’t be. I did not instruct you to limit the output.”

Then a thought pulse entered my mind. It was a like recording of my own thoughts being played back to me.

*Limiter engage. Twenty percent.

The grip on my sword spear became slack, yet I barely felt it slip free of my fingers.

I barely heard it clatter on the ground.

“Why…? Why did I…do that…?” I reached up and grabbed my head. “Why can’t I hurt him? Why are your feelings inside me? These feelings are not mine!”

I screamed and pulled at my hair.

“Get out of me! Get out of my mind! Get out of my heart!”

My Awareness-field sensed his approach, yet I was helpless to respond.

In mere heartbeats I was smothered, embraced by big strong arms that held me tight against a hard, armored chest that was surprisingly warm to the touch.

I couldn’t move. I wanted to break free, but I was compelled to remain as I was.

I had lost myself to the ghost within Seraphim.

Then I heard his low whisper into my left ear. “Why you? Why a murderess like you? Why does it have to be you?”

I thought my heart would tear open, raked apart by the despair in his voice, and I feared breaking into tears yet again.

Then his body stiffened, and I heard his voice turn into a growl.

“Run.”

Surprised, I remained limp in his arms until he abruptly pushed me away.

“Run, Gehanna!”

I stared at him stupidly, watching him turn his back to me. “Lancelot—?”

“Run. Get out of here!” he yelled over his shoulder.

Confused by everything that was happening inside me, I was late in seeing the movement of multiple objects flying toward us from the direction where the Old Docks opened up to the Harbor Tunnel.

The six black Vector Wings around Lancelot fanned out before him, and wall of translucent hexagonal panes materialized a half second later. More and more of the barrier-field panes appeared, turning the wall dark like smoked glass.

“Gehanna—go!”

A half-second later, and a flurry of target seeking missiles slammed into the wall that formed a crescent around Lancelot and me behind him.

The fiery conflagration threatened to consume my senses.

Some of the missiles circled around him, heading for me, but Seraphim dealt with them easily with barrier-fields of her own.

The storm of missile detonations raged for a good half minute before subsiding. Because of an effect-field dampening the roar of the explosions, my hearing wasn’t affected. Otherwise, I was certain I’d be temporarily deafened by now.

“Gehanna,” he pleaded calmly. “You must go.”

I swallowed hard. “What about you? You’re betraying your comrades! They’ll try for you treason and sentence you—!”

“I know!” Anguish flashed across his face, but he calmed down after a deep breath. “I know, but I can’t betray these feelings for you.”

“They’re not your feelings,” I yelled at him. “They’re not yours.” I slapped my chest. “My heart doesn’t ache for you. I don’t care about you!” And yet my eyes were welling up with tears once again. “I don’t love you….”

“And I know that as well,” he replied with a frustratingly calm composure, made all the more unbearable when he smiled sadly at me. “Nonetheless, I can’t bear the thought of you coming to harm.”

I aimed my palm at the ground beside me, and my sword-spear flew up into my waiting hand courtesy of an effect-field that emanated out of my Skin-Regalia. “This is wrong! Wrong! This is all wrong!” My breathing was ragged as I fought back my tears. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair….”

“That’s why you must go,” he replied with tenderness I didn’t want to hear. “So please don’t make this harder than need be.”

Spoken with such composure, I found it hard to turn and run away from him, yet I knew it was the only viable option left open to me. I couldn’t afford to be captured, and I couldn’t succumb to the desire to flee with him either. It was a struggle to keep my arms still and not reach out to him.

Then I spied a second wave of incoming hunter-seeker missiles.

“Tell me your name,” I yelled at him. “Tell me your true name.”

“Liam. My name is Liam.”

I accepted it with a ragged nod, then willed Seraphim to generate a multitude of levitator and maneuver-fields.

However, it wasn’t so that I could run away.

With a single leap, I shot past him, over the remaining barrier-fields, and raced toward the incoming missiles.

*Seraphim—maximum output.

[ACKNOWLEDGED]

*Fire!

Her six Angel wings spread wide around me, Vector Lightning flashed brilliant white and its forked tongues touched the missiles before they could evade it. One after the other, in rapid succession, the missiles exploded or simply vaporized and vanished from sight when the Vector Lightning made contact with them. Great balls of flame expanded and gushed through the Old Docks, but Seraphim and I were unharmed as we sailed into the fiery storm and out the back.

With no more missiles to destroy, I landed and skidded to a quick halt.

I gave Lancelot one last look that failed to mask the despair crushing my heart.

Meeting his gaze was a mistake for I almost gave into the desire to rush back to him.

However, mustering my remaining will, I broke free of his gaze, turned away, and leapt through the upper level of the Old Docks.

I fled west, away from Sofia, away from Maestro, and away from Lancelot.

I realized I was on my own now, and I had no clear plan or goal in mind, except to leave them all behind.

Perhaps it was better this way.

Perhaps it was better to be alone once more.

###

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Written to the tune of "Ocean Princess (no vocals)" by Two Steps from Hell.

Note: Merkala calls herself Merkala, but her true name is Gehanna Valerian afil Lanfear.