Chapter 19 A Psionic Storm #2
‘The fokk?’ Molan growled.
‘It’s a psionic incursion,’ came the dry rasp from Zane. ‘It freezes reality around us, and pulls those who can parse it into an overlaid vision, so brace -.’
With no warning, Zane’s spine snapped taut, his skull jerking backward as if snagged by an invisible hook.
He rose to his feet and rounded the table as a guttural roar tore from his throat.
His head tilted to the sky as his pupils vanished behind a shroud of incandescent blue fire.
The light in his eyes projected outward in a forceful psionic flare, focused to a point above the swimming pool.
The air rippled, and the water heaved, as an illuminance rose from it until the towering projection of Sulfiqar came into focus.
The entity did not speak; instead, a psychic resonance vibrated through Idan’s neural cortex.
Three months, my sons, that is the time I’m giving you, the words echoed, cold and final.
Pledge your fealty to my conquest, or I shall flay the divinity from your veins.
I will leave you mortal, fragile, and weeping in the dust of this world.
Even as I sacrifice the blood of civilizations and of all those seated with you at that table, and their children, and their children’s children.
With a contemptuous sneer, the deity and his projection dissolved.
The agonizing grip on Zane’s mind severed, sending him stumbling forward.
He exhaled a ragged breath, his gaze burning with a frantic, sapphire light as he locked eyes with the brothers.
‘The threat isn’t hollow,’ Zane rasped, his timbre raw from the mental intrusion. ‘He will incinerate us all and a thousand worlds to punish your defiance should you conceive of any. He demands your total submission, or he will turn Pegasi into a graveyard.’
The temporal freeze thawed with the violence of a physical blow.
The rest of the Riders and the women at the table slid and collapsed over in their seats, unconscious.
Idan whipped around to his woman and cursed as she slumped on the chair beside him.
He reached for her, his heart hammering. ‘Sheba?’
She was non-responsive, so he lifted her into his arms, her head falling heavy against his shoulder.
Carrying her to an empty divan, he lay her down flat, staring at her with growing worry.
Xion, too, got hold of Illana, and Molan went to his woman.
Around them, the other Riders stirred.
The fokk? Xion groaned in a slurred sub-vocal utterance that Iran caught in his neural node.
Sulfiqar sent a psionic assault on us all, Molan offered.
Kainan and the rest of the Riders jolted to find their partners collapsed.
Their women were still lost in a deep, unnerving stupor, their bodies turning limp, slumped into their seats or face down on the timber table.
Panic flooded the terrace.
Kainan scooped a pale, unconscious Selene into his arms, his jaw set in a hard line of rage. Cursing under his breath, he and the other men hurried to settle their mates onto the cushioned divans.
‘Will they be sawa?’ Kage demanded, the words a raw growl as his focus sliced toward Ki’Remi.
The medic collapsed to his knees before his wife, shuddering from the aftereffects of the attack.
‘We need Mirage. I’m too fokked up to assess the damage.’
‘Mirage!’ Kainan roared, his bellow echoing off the stone parapets.
A shimmer of light heralded the demi-urge’s arrival.
She took in the scene with an arched brow and produced a med wand, hovering it over the passed-out woman.
‘Their vitals remain steady,’ she announced, her tone cutting through the Riders’ burgeoning dread. ‘The mental incursion bypassed their defenses, but they will wake. Their minds require time to recalibrate after such a massive psionic surge.’
The sight of the vibrant women struck down by his progenitor’s hand sent a wave of nauseating guilt through Idan’s chest.
He gathered Sheba into his lap, his fingers digging into her side as he pressed his forehead against hers.
A frantic energy radiated from his frame, his usual composure splintering at her stillness.
He sensed Kainan’s flaming stare and sliced his eyes to the Rider’s khan, steeling himself.
‘Hell, I’m sorry,’ Idan gritted out. ‘Sulfiqar is spiraling beyond reason. He is out of control.’
Kainan’s expression softened slightly, the deadly edge of his anger shifting away from Idan and toward the distant horizon.
‘Tis not your fault,’ he countered, in a grating growl. ‘But fokkinshitandhell, we cannot let him run roughshod over us. Not ever again.’
The air thickened as the men initiated a private neural conversation.
Mirage, isolate the coordinates of that anomaly, Kainan commanded, his internal broadcast radiating a lethal intensity. Find a way to warn us should it ever breach Eden II within a million klicks.
At once, khosi.
He turned his focus back to Idan and Molan, his expression carved from granite.
Your father just accelerated the endgame. He isn’t angling for a throne anymore; he’s playing with our family. We can’t let him mess with us; we need to escalate to a counter-offensive immediately. How do we go about destroying his fokkin’ sacred smug face and getting rid of him?
From the shadows of the divans, a slurred, defiant voice broke through the tension.
Issa pushed herself upright, her movements clumsy but her eyes flaring with Sacran adrenaline.
You won’t find the answer in this room, she muttered into the shared neural link, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple.
Please speak with my father. His epochs of experience as a Ssigis General, all respect to you, Idan, make him the only one who can understand the architecture of this brand of madness.
He more than likely has the ancient insight to navigate this nightmare.
Idan sensed Molan’s gaze settle on him, a silent communication passing between the brothers.
‘The decision is made,’ Idan snarled. ‘We’ll seek the General.’