“You say this Dalzhar Velian is no different from you or I, aside from his affliction—but I will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. To allow this would be to desecrate the Order’s very spirit.”
—High Lancer Inivrus Valtox, founder of the Scions of Riiva, in a speech shortly before the Lancer Civil War
Zaina was led to a nearby platform where a sleek, unarmored craft awaited. The underbelly was gold, with a single streak of shining red separating the hull from rows of large hyper-glass panes lining the top of the craft. It hugged the ground tightly, with much shorter landing rods than Gir’s ship.
The door swung upward, and a narrow ramp extended to the landing pad’s surface. The scholar was muttering to himself as he floated into the ship. The second lancer, a tall, young humanoid with pointed ears and grayish-blue fur—Cytomoids, their species was called—went in first, followed by Zaina, and then the red-haired lancer who’d bound her.
Zaina didn’t know what she’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t luxury. The interior walls were lined with soft, velvet seats toward the back. Bottles of dowress and lurg, the most expensive gruti-wine in the galaxy, lined glass cabinets beneath the seating area, and glow-strip panels in the floor provided all the ship’s dim lighting. Toward the front were large hooks protruding from the ceiling. Wired rings extended from the scholar’s bed-pod and attached to them, suspending the hover-pod in place. The lancers and Zaina sat in the back.
She sighed. At least these seats have cushions.
Two glyphs in the cockpit communicated in coda, taking in data from an array of sensors and piloting the ship in tandem. Zaina was able to make out the scholar’s crazed whispers over the dim hum of the ship’s engines.
“This girl—heretic! Coming to Kaado! Two lancers dead—even that fool Nash won’t have a choice.”
Zaina frowned. Her chest tightened—this was going about as well as expected. Part of her wanted to find some way to escape, to put the whole thing behind her, but part of her wanted to play it out. Gir had indicated that the Order accepted half-heretics despite the misgivings of some of their members. Maybe if more scholars heard her out, they’d actually listen to what she had to say.
I hope. Her eyes shifted to the scholar. If they’re all like him, I’m fucked.
They descended far into Kaado’s interior, near the intact surface at the world’s hollow bottom. A massive building came into view, split into two segments and made of sleek, golden metal. It appeared to be two buildings stacked atop one another, connected by rows of thick golden pillars. The bottom segment was a large, cube shaped construct; above that was a smaller, roof-shaped complex with elaborate curved edges. A ring of glowing blue rocks floated in a circle around it. Next to the ornate structure was a landing bay with rows of identical, luxurious vehicles.
Is this some sort of temple?
The ship gently touched down. Without so much as a word, the scholar detached his hover-bed with the press of a button and levitated off the ship, muttering under his breath the whole time. Zaina followed quickly, not wanting to seem reluctant.
Upon exiting the ship she strained her neck to see the top of the golden cube—it had to be as tall as Mount Dialemor, at least. Probably not as tall as the black tower she helped rob on Otmonzas. From her vantage point at the base, the entire top structure was barely visible. Little natural light made it this far into Kaado’s depths, further hampering her efforts to see the peak.
The gilded building’s entrance was an elaborate door comprised of thin strips of pinkish-gray metal engraved with odd messages written in symbols Zaina didn’t understand. Beside it was a podium that held a vis-screen on its topmost face; the scholar floated to it and pressed his hand against the screen. The intricate metal strips retreated into the walls one by one until the door opened.
The interior wasn’t anything like what Zaina expected: a damp, dimly lit stone corridor with rows of doors on either side. Here an eerily stillness had taken hold—from the air, to the silence, to the low-glowing bulbs sparsely lining the walls. Deep, bellowing clanks rang out as the door sealed shut behind her.
Zaina tried to keep a brave face, but she was terrified. Everyone she’d met so far seemed to hate heretics. She tried to get a read on the lancers walking on either side of her. The human woman was aloof. She grinned at Zaina when she noticed her staring, but the Cytomoid was focused, looking dead ahead. The scholar was still grumbling to himself like a madman.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
What’s his problem with heretics, anyway?
Darkness swallowed the corridor’s dim lights—were they coming to the end? She had no way of knowing how long this hallway was. Anxiety crept into Zaina’s chest, making her heart flutter—this space reminded her of the Eldritch’s Hollow. The scholar’s infuriating muttering brought back low, buzzing whispers in the back of her brain. She focused on keeping her hands from shaking.
Finally they came to a metal door at the end of the hall. The entrance’s wide frame was bordered by a great arch of stained wood with the same runic language scrawled onto it.
The lancers placed their palms on small, hand-sized podiums on either side of the door. With a creaking metallic groan, it split down the middle, its halves retracting into the walls.
Before they entered, the scholar’s hover-bed rotated and he pointed a wrinkly finger toward the lancers. “Take this heretic to the Chamber of High Judgment at once. I will go on and brief the other scholars. The Suprema Assembly will be gathered by the time you reach us.”
Without another word, the scholar’s hover-bed rotated to face forward. It darted to the left and connected to a magnetic rail lining the wall, then shot upward out of sight. The lancers were alone with Zaina. Her jaw dropped when she stepped through the door.
The next room was an enormous library and clearly the bulk of the interior space of the cube; the chamber’s roof was the same golden hue as the outer surface. Radiant light flooded every inch of the room, emanating from a glass cube containing a brilliant aura. It was attached to a chain hanging from the bottom of a gold disc-like structure near the ceiling.
The library’s walls jutted out at odd and seemingly random places, forming a massive maze; more sections of wall were under construction. It was both ancient and modern at once—its foundations were set long ago, and continually built upon, but never finished.
The structure was labyrinthine. Every inch of wall space was covered in shelves overflowing with books, data drives, and server boxes. Desks on the floor were littered with piles of books stacked ten high. Magnetic rails lined the edges of each bookshelf, allowing metal staircases to freely travel the library’s innumerable shelves. Scholars on their hover-beds and white-clad assistants scurried about at every level.
It was an ever-growing library seeking all the knowledge in the galaxy—Zaina was so taken aback by the sight that she barely noticed the Cytomoid guiding her by the arm.
They came to one of the extended walls. The Cytomoid pushed Zaina onto a set of magnet stairs—she kept her balance but wanted to punch him. He stepped on and crossed his arms without a word.
The red-haired lancer frowned and turned to Zaina. “Watch the sides, now.”
The stairway lurched. Zaina fumbled for the safety bar with her bound hands. Once she got a grip, her head swiveled about to marvel at the room. They ascended in silence for ten minutes before their stairwell climbed to the top of the rail system. Zaina stepped onto the wall—on either side were rows of bookshelves all the way down. Right up ahead was a raised circular hover-pad twenty feet in diameter; it was hooked to a metal fence surrounding it. A blue light shone from the platform’s center, aimed at the ceiling.
Zaina glanced around the room—the top of every wall was identical; the same circular platforms, and the same blue lights. They all pointed toward the same place—the golden disc atop the room. From here, she noticed it was shaped more like the bottom of a sphere, or an upside-down dome attached to the ceiling.
The red-haired lancer walked to the center and accessed another podium. The edges of the circle emitted a gentle blue glow. The platform’s restraints loosened, and it jolted—Zaina’s legs nearly buckled, but she kept her balance. They ascended, following the blue light’s path toward the golden dome atop the room. Their speed was leisurely slow. Neither lancer tried to engage Zaina at all. She had plenty of time to over-think and convince herself whatever worst-case scenario her mind conjured was a certainty.
Twenty minutes passed before they arrived. Up close, the golden dome-like structure was gargantuan. A circular section of the dome’s underside opened up. It was perfectly sized for their platform, which positioned itself directly below the entrance and then shot upward. They entered a tube-like tunnel wide enough for the platform, and their ascent began anew.
The last leg of the journey was the shortest. Within two minutes they reached the golden dome’s peak: a flat surface consisting of colorful, ornate circular engravings with inscriptions written in the same ancient language Zaina didn’t recognize. A chorus of clicks rang out from the platform’s edges as restraining bars attached to hold the hover-pad in place. The railings folded down.
Zaina glanced upward—there was still a good amount of space between the dome and the true ceiling. Sixteen metal pillars of a whitish-gray hue connected the ceiling to the dome’s edges. The only light came from the room below, giving this uppermost platform a dim glow.
Zaina gulped. Every time she thought she had this room figured out, it surprised her. She was getting sick of surprises.
Floating above the disc’s surface was an antler-like structure of black and gray hue; each branching tip was a connection point for bed-pods. Every space was occupied by a scholar—at least fifteen of them. They all stared with different expressions; some were curious, others angry or ambivalent. Her heart pounded—it felt like it would combust if someone didn’t say something.
The bed-pod seated at the top detached and descended, emitting a high-pitched hum. The pod held an elderly creature with amber-colored, humanoid skin; it had long, white hair covering much of its face, neck, and chest, but was bald otherwise. Its frail voice was amplified by the hover-bed. “Let us convene this meeting of the Suprema Assembly of the Order of Riiva’s Scholara Suprema. We are gathered here today to ascertain the truth regarding recent events involving the Order’s lancers, and to weigh the guilt and innocence of this citizen of the galaxy.”
Zaina gulped, wishing more than ever that she could hide her face. Her last shred of hope faded quickly, leaving her with a pit at the bottom of her stomach. So these are the people I’m entrusting my fate to.