“Look’s like our ride has arrived,” said Urendil.
Hiakalite’s
shuttle landed on the deck. His
aide, Aakate, stepped from the shuttle and stood at attention by the door. Hiakalite walked out of the waiting
area and boarded, quickly followed by Urendil. His aide brought up the rear, closing the door behind
him. He sat down at the controls,
and proceeded to take off.
“I
trust the meeting went well, sir?” His aide asked.
“As
well as can be expected, Aakate,” said the Supremor. “As well as can be expected.”
“In
other words, it was a waste,” said Urendil. “As expected, but at least we did our due diligence.”
“Sorry
to hear that sir,”
“Don’t
trouble yourself,” said Hiakalite.
“In truth, we accomplished a great deal.”
“Very
well sir. Destination?” Aakate asked.
“Military
district 45.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Aakate,
I’m erecting a privacy screen. I
do not want us disturbed.”
“Yes,
sir. Understood.”
Urendil
and Hiakalite sat within the cocoon of the privacy screen as the shuttle
streaked away from the spires of Narella City. The shuttle quickly gained altitude, flying high over towers
that seemed to reach to the stars.
The Supremor looked out the window, down at the beautiful city in which
he grew to adulthood.
Narella
City, the capital of the planet Narella, the Narellan Federation, and the
Majestic Alliance. All its great
towers were either ebony, ivory, or silver, or silver gold, the color of
ascerium. They were pure
structures, with clean edges, order growing from the natural chaos of the
northern continent’s great forest.
Narella City was a band of crystal that existed in harmony with its
surroundings, merging with the forest that stretched across the continent, from
one sea to the other. Some of the
trees, revered by the people of Narella, grew as tall as some of the
buildings. Sentients all over the
Majestic considered Narella City to be one of the most beautiful cities in all
the worlds.
The
shuttle left the capital behind.
The Supremor’s aide set a high parabolic course due south, flying at
nominal cruising speeds. Its
flight path would take it into low planetary orbit, and then back down again.
Military district 45 was a small island in the midst of an archipelago on the
other side of the planet.
“We
won’t have their full support,” said Haikalite. “Of course, you knew this.”
“Yes,”
said Urendil. “Still, the trip
wasn’t worthless. We must always
make every attempt.”
“You’re
always looking for converts.”
“Not necessarily,”
Urendil said, smiling. “However, a
new convert never hurts. We want
more sentients to understand the esoteric nature of our universe.
“Yes, it would
help. That way they can avoid the
pain of having the truth smack them dead in the face. When it does, they’re usually turned into mindless
catatonics who can no longer distinguish between fantasy and reality.”
“Especially
when reality looks so similar to fantasy.”
Haikalite
chuckled. “Indeed.”
They both
continued to look out at the window, as the sky soon gave way to the darkness
of space.
“Fortunately, the sentients
who matter the most don’t need to be convinced,” said Haikalite. “They’re longtime converts.”
Urendil looked at
him critically. “What did I miss?”
“Only what I
wanted you to miss. As we left the
Ocracy chamber, I received an encoded communiqué from 1st Supremor
Numerlen.”
“Couldn’t speak to
you directly, could he?”
“You know the way the game is
played. He’s been at this far
longer than I have, and just now things
have been a bit precarious.”
“Everyone acknowledges a new Zradgen
offensive is coming. The what and
how are in dispute.”
“Exactly.”
“So, what did he say?”
“Of course, I apprised him of the
situation some time ago, and sent an encoded update just prior to our
departure
from Verdoon. I received a
response. They were understandably
distressed.”
“You wouldn’t know it from the
way some of them behaved in the hall.
But again, it is the way.”
“Absolutely,” said Haikalite.
“Could wind up being too controversial in this climate. One has to temper
his connections, his
communications, his dialogue. Make
it appropriate for the public and private eye.”
“You sure you don’t want to be a
politician?”
“Quiet old wizard.”
“A sentient for the ages,
soldier, historian, poet, spy, and politician. My oh my, you’re so well suited.”
“I do not agree, old friend. I’ve made my home on an ancient
backwater steeped in mysticism. My ally, best friend and confidante, even among Emirs is considered—”
“Eccentric,” Urendil
finished for him.
“Not the word I
was going to use, but I guess it’s as good as any. However, we digress.
We have accomplished what we came to do.”
“Which is?”
“We now have enough
resources to prosecute a campaign against our perceived threat. They have given us the means.
“They? Who besides the 1st Supremor?”
“The Chancellor of
the Council, and The First of the Ocracy.”
Urendil was truly
surprised. “Both? I was not aware our influence extended
to the heads of both bodies?”
“Well, I believe
that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
After all, I’m the spy, you’re the wizard. “
“Point taken. Please continue.”
“Old friend, I’ll tell you. We’ve been given more than even I could
have dreamed for. Essentially, we
will have to hold the course, if we can’t fix it on our own. And that is what they have given us,
the chance to fix it for them.
Keeping conventional forces arrayed against a conventional enemy.”
“And that would
leave us arrayed against a god.”
“Yes.”
“So, my Supremor,
exactly what have we been given?”
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