Chapter 25 The Empyrean Call #2
Kainan huffed a laugh. ‘Because they fear insignificance more than death, my love. I have broken bread with royals who believed their breath created the stars and chancellors who thought they could legislate gravity. They all have the same blind spot: they cannot imagine a world where they aren’t the primary architect of its present and future. ’
Selene nudged his shoulder. ‘I would know, because the most hardass leader I’ve ever had to negotiate with is married to me, Sable.’
‘A point I concede daily,’ Kainan chuckled, raising his glass to his formidable wife.
Seated beside Idan, Sheba eyed the couple, a warm glow of belonging in her chest.
Being close to her family and surrounded by love was a blessing she didn’t take for granted in the least.
She also wanted to fiercely hold on to it, even as the shadow of Sulfiqar loomed; the one factor capable of tearing her newfound joy from her hands.
Hours later, with Kainan’s excellent wine selection lifting her spirits, she and Idan descended into the balmy, spice-scented night.
As they strolled toward the Commons, the atmosphere held the brassy energy of a jazz haunt. Neon signs cast puddles of sapphire onto the cobblestones.
In a central park, children chased bioluminescent fireflies under the silver moon, and a saxophonist on the corner coaxed a mournful melody from his instrument.
‘I get why you like this neck of the woods,’ Idan admitted, ‘Tis a version of urban life I can handle, it feels more real and natural.’
He slowed beneath an ancient oak, the shadows of the leaves dancing across his scarred face.
Before Sheba could speak, he had her against the rough bark.
His mouth found hers in a kiss so scorching it stole the breath from her lungs.
He inserted one thigh between her own and, with one hand braced on the tree limb, he pulled up her skirt and slipped a hand under her panties.
She reared back in shock. ‘Honey?’
‘It’s freakin’ dark, and no one can see us,’ he promised, sending a psionic tap to any creature close by to avoid their love tryst.
He stroked her slit, then, recapturing her lips, slid two fingers into her sopping pussy, his thumb stroking her clit to bliss.
Her orgasm came so fast, ripping through her as she shuddered, gasping into his nape as he worked his hand all over her.
‘Damn, uso’m,’ she breathed. ‘Can’t get enough of you.’
‘Is that right?’
With a growl, Idan swept her into his arms.
She laughed as he ignited his Sacran speed, the world blurring into a streak of gold light as he raced her through the winding streets.
Once they got into the apartment, they surrendered to their frantic desire.
Entreaties, murmurs, and kisses ensued as clothes got discarded in a trail across the floor, and they collapsed on the bed.
They made love with a wild, savage intensity, putting off the inevitability of the conflict yet to come, as a distant evocative jazz refrain drifted through their open window.
The Xáashìi, a sleek flyer owned by Molan, descended into the atmospheric vacuum of the Eden Maria, its landing struts crushing the fine, lunar silt of the desert plains.
The brothers exited shortly after, stepping from the ramp onto the surface, where silver dust rose in silent, ghostly plumes around their grav boots.
Hovering just behind them, Zane’s racing pinnace, a sleek, needle-thin craft of matte carbon, settled into the regolith.
The location for their planned meet-up with Sulfiqar was on a ridge of hillocks overlooking The Mortuusvlei, a dry clay pan surrounded by moonlit dunes.
Zane disembarked, adjusting his oxygen mask over his nose as the twin suns of Alphetraz were setting, casting a magical reddish glow over the terra-formed cliffs.
‘Would you believe there’s an entire Paladian city and lake under those distant peaks?’ Zane murmured.
‘You jest,’ Idan drawled.
‘What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well,’ the aqua-eyed Rider intoned, staring at the stunning view. ‘That’s a quote from -.’
‘The Little Prince,’ Molan finished for him. ‘One of Rina’s favorite books.’
‘Riveting. Now let’s stop waxing lyrical and get to work, brothers,’ Idan rasped.
They moved with the synchronized economy of warriors readying themselves for an apocalyptic battle.
The trio hauled heavy, obsidian-lined crates packed with Molan’s private armory from the Xáashìi’s cargo hold.
‘Careful, these are not mere firearms, but relics forged in the heart of dying stars.’
They set them down on the regolith, and Molan opened the trunks.
Inside one nestled the Sun Eater and the Caelum-Sunderer, a sentient blade that hummed with ambient vibration; the sword lived for the fray, capable of parrying strikes and seeking jugulars of its own volition.
Molan lifted a lethal spear from another container, running his hands over it with admiration.
‘The Staff of Mortis is a conceptual eraser. Once the trigger mechanism is ignited, the weapon discharges a pulse that bypasses all divine boons and immortality hexes, striking the target dead regardless of their cosmic status,’ he rasped.
Finally, they anchored the Iris-Cleaver, a massive, two-handed axe, into the dust.
‘When swung, the blade generates a prismatic arc of kinetic energy. It’s rumored to have decapitated mountain peaks across two planets during the First Schism Wars of Sartixia,’ Mo growled.
‘Brother, I’m scared of you,’ Zane muttered, eyeing the armaments with an arched brow and a look of disbelief. ‘You’re freakin’ infatuated with incarnate munitions of war.’
Molan blinked in faux innocence. ‘Me? Nada. I’m just a potterer, an amateur tinkerer, a layman dabbler.’
‘An obsessive hobbyist, no doubt. Takes one to know one, you should see my collection of ancient Earth jazz records,’ Zane rasped. ‘Now, shall we move on to summoning your father?’
Idan and Molan exchanged glances.
‘Have at it,’ Idan murmured, ‘we’re good to go.’
Zane sauntered to the center of the make-shift camp, staring up into the stark, colorless horizon.
He closed his eyes, his aura expanding until the air around him rippled with the distortion of a psionic mirage.
When he opened his eyes again, a crackling aqua and amethyst radiance shot out from them and into the atmosphere high above them, as he broadcast a psionic transmission over every frequency of the astral band.
Sulfiqar! King of the Seven Heavens! The Majestic Storm Divinity, Sovereign Ruler of the Divine Immortal. The celestial being who once commanded the greatest Empyrean empire and dictated the tides of war and peace across Sacra.
Zane’s extrasensory vox boomed on, a psychic shockwave that rippled through space, a thunderous resonance in the minds of any god-tier entity listening.
Your sons have joined forces. They wait for you on the bone-white sands of Eden II. Their blades are drawn, and their spirits are bound as one to your cause. Come down and claim their final oath to you.
Silence fell as Zane turned to the brothers, the azure blaze fading from his eyes.
‘The bait is set with a narcissist-coded lure. You two ready?’
‘We’re as primed as we can be for a session of galactic-level patricide with the sombrero of all immortal asshats,’ Molan rasped, checking the energy cells on his ordnance.
Zane chuckled. ‘Stay safe, fight hard, Mirage is keeping a close eye, and the Riders will have your six should you need it.’
‘Sante brother,’ Idan grunted.
With a two-fingered salute, Zane strolled away and climbed back into the cockpit of his pinnace.
The engines gave a muffled, high-pitched whine before the craft banked, streaking back toward the atmosphere of Eden II to monitor the fallout from Sable HQ.
Once the brothers satisfied themselves that their weapons were primed, they sank into their reinforced camp chairs on the ridge of a dune, eyes locked on the magnificent valley below.
‘Can’t beat a lunar sunset,’ Molan grunted, ‘and a sundowner, while taking this freakin’ view in.’
They popped tabs on beer cans and sipped through straws to counter the lack of gravity, unbothered by the scarcity of oxygen in the air.
Idan relaxed, surrounded by the stark desert beauty of the Eden Maria.
‘How fast do you think he’ll come?’ Molan mused.
‘He’s eager to hear from us in the hopes of reclaiming Sivania, so I’ll bet on the Star-Graves of Aethelgard that he’ll be here soon,’ his brother murmured.
They spent the next few hours in a rare, vulnerable exchange, stripping away the armor of their past.
They discussed the brutality of their father’s choices. They spoke about their mothers and paid respect to the amazing women who raised them.
The conversation drifted into tales from Molan’s gun-running exploits and Idan’s Sacran war stories until the lassitude pulled them under.
Mo slipped first into a snooze, his head sliding to the edge of his rest.
Idan stretched back into the chair’s back cushion as he floated into a shallow doze.
He jerked awake minutes later, his heart hammering against his ribs as a violent psionic nudge from Zane lanced through his mind.
Wake up, sleeping beauties.
Molan knifed upright as Zane’s mental growl reverberated through their skulls.
A massive celestial signature just breached orbit. He’s coming in hot.
Idan stood, his hand finding the hilt of The Sun Eater.
On the horizon, a streak of violet fire tore through the black sky, heralding the god-king’s arrival.