Nemesis (8 page)

The wyvern lunged for me, I drove the dagger into the roof of its mouth. Right into the brain. Red blood drenched me, and I staggered back as the illusion disappeared in an instant. Breathing heavily, I let the loading screen fade so I could reassure myself I was still here in the booth, not in a simulation anymore. I wondered how Ada had dealt with her first experience here.

Why the hell did you say that to her?

Just when things might actually have been going my way for once, I had to wreck everything, with more efficiency than the way I’d crashed that blasted hover bike. Thanks to the Aglaian crisis, I’d be lucky to run into her again anytime soon, and if I did, she’d turn the other way. And her dick of a brother hadn’t helped.
She’s always had a thing for your type. And she always gets hurt.

“Goddammit,” I said to no one in particular, fiddling with the helmet so I could wipe the sweat off my forehead. Pity this simulator didn’t come with custom settings so I couldn’t make a virtual copy of Aric appear and punch it in the face.

I launched another battle sequence before the adrenaline wore off. The Academy’s training had prepared me to fight human opponents, and I’d learned how to break a person long before I’d needed to use it in real life. Striking first was second nature. But magic was a different story. I wanted to go up against a magic-wielder, but there was no option for that here. Not even advanced Klathican tech could simulate something so exact and yet so unpredictable. But now I was going to be spending time on Aglaia, I needed every advantage I could get. Even after what happened. If I’d made an effort to research magic rather than avoiding it, maybe I’d have been able to stop the Campbells before they’d tried to use Ada to blow up Central.

No. I couldn’t afford to be blindsided like that again.

***

Aglaia was going to drive me freaking insane.

The inaugural meeting had been going on for three hours, and so far there’d been five threats of bodily harm and seven high-volume centaur arguments. I expected someone to flip the table over next. There was little the Alliance could do, so we’d been stuck in the role of spectators for the past two days. The council told Raj and me we had to be there because if we left the centaurs to it and they solved the leadership issue, the first thing they’d do was complain that the Alliance hadn’t deigned to show up. And if the situation went bad, we had to be the first to know. I got the impression we Ambassadors were there to act as bodyguards to the council if the centaurs
did
decide to flip the table over.

Nothing quite so interesting happened the first two days. Once I’d memorised the names and titles of the council members from the various worlds, I joined Raj in playing solitaire on my communicator under the table. By the look of it, half the new Ambassadors had the same idea. But by the second day, I had the distinct impression one of the Aglaian mages was watching me.

The mages sat in a line, serious-faced and robed according to status. At first, I figured the guy was staring at me in disapproval for screwing around on my communicator instead of at least looking like I was paying attention. He was probably twenty years older than me, and had the tanned skin and sharp ears of an Aglaian. His pale grey eyes were ringed with black, noticeable even across the room, because he was definitely staring at me. Like the other council members, he wore a ceremonial robe, blue, which represented a lower rank. I’d never seen the mages use magic, of course—no one would risk it in front of the centaurs.

Still, curiosity got the better of me after two days sitting in the wood-panelled room with a bunch of stuffy old council members and argumentative centaurs. I hung back after the meeting, watching the mage out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, he approached me, skirting the wooden table. The council hall lay on the brink of centaur territory, so its simple features were in keeping with the centaurs’ liking for everything to be close to natural as possible–in contrast to the humans, whose technologies and magical enhancements dominated everything.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, in Aglaian.

“Perhaps. You’re a magic-wielder, aren’t you? It’s in the eyes.”

It is?
I’d never thought about it that way before. The image of Ada rose in the forefront of my mind–specifically, her blinding white eyes with dark circles around the pupils as she’d unleashed her final attack. They’d taken her lenses out for a reason. Perhaps it
was
linked to her power.

Perhaps that explained why I hadn’t been able to bring myself to look in the mirror for months after the experiment. I’d put it down to the fear of seeing another person entirely staring back. Someone who wasn’t quite human anymore.

Ignoring the chill creeping up my spine, I said, “Yes, I am. Is there a reason you wanted to talk to me?”

Raj stood just behind me. The council were in earshot, but I’d guessed they’d inferred from my being on this mission that I was a magic-wielder, anyway. That didn’t particularly bother me now. No Walker had ever been a magic-wielder, as far as I knew.

“Your name?”

“Kay Walker.” His face betrayed no recognition of the name, which made a change.

“I am Ikor, and I merely wanted to ask if you are aware of how magic functions on Aglaia, and to offer to show you… if you are willing.”

“That would depend,” I said, “on what you’re offering, exactly.”

Why would an Aglaian mage be interested in someone from Earth? It wasn’t illegal to
talk
about magic, and certainly, mages on Aglaia stuck religiously to the no-harm rule–even using a level one shot on a person was a crime–but I wasn’t taking any chances. Mages didn’t just offer help to offworlders.

“I am curious to meet an Earth magic-wielder. That is all.”

Yeah. Sure it is.
Did he know I wasn’t a conventional magic-wielder?

“Right,” I said. “Well, I’m here as Ambassador, and this is definitely not something that fits in with our purpose here. Academic interest aside, I’ve no desire to be drawn into mage politics. Given the circumstances, I’m sure you can understand why.”

“Yes… it’s unfortunate. Let me assure you I have no ill intentions towards the Alliance. But the fact remains…” He lowered his voice. “There is something wrong with magic on Aglaia. There has been for some time. As I’m sure you know, the Balance recently shifted, and for us, magic’s power lessened as it was pulled towards Earth. Now it should be back to normal. But it is not. And, as much as it pains me to admit, the mage council is unable to determine why. Aglaia has few connections offworld, and none with offworld magic-wielders. It’s possible that a non-Aglaian magic-wielder would be able to do what we cannot.”

“I don’t think so. As I said, my interest is purely a theoretical one. Earth is low-magic, so my experience is limited.”

“We will see,” said the mage. “I am sure we’ll meet again.”

And he strode away, robes sweeping behind him.

I turned to Raj, eyebrows raised. “That was dramatic.”

“That was
suspicious,”
he said, as we followed the rest of the council down the wood-panelled corridor. “Don’t trust him.”

“I’m not an imbecile.”

Still. Was there really something wrong with the magic on Aglaia? The disturbance to Earth’s magic levels the Campbells had pulled off was bound to have a ripple effect.

“I know that, Kay. Just be careful with these mages. They’re not out for the Alliance’s best interests. Or ours.”

“Yeah, I got that much,” I said, opening the door outside. It led onto a walkway linking the island to the forested mainland. Humans on Aglaia primarily lived on island-states, while the forests were the centaurs’ home. No signs of habitation, but as far as I knew, the centaur tribes lived in camps hidden from sight. Though few humans dared to venture anywhere near their territory, old paranoia ran rampant.

Thick oaks closed in around us, the forest swallowing us in an instant. Five million hostile horse-men were out there, which didn’t help the feeling of being boxed in. The council walked in close formation, and it was suffocatingly warm in our magicproof gear, but at least we wouldn’t be caught off guard if the mages turned hostile. Though it was more likely to be the centaurs. Frankly, I was amazed they hadn’t struck back against the Alliance already for interfering in their debates. It was pretty clear Aglaia’s membership renewal in the Alliance would be postponed on the centaurs’ side until they’d resolved the dilemma.

But Aglaia’s mages intrigued me. An entire world where every human was on more or less equal standing as far as magic went didn’t seem possible in my own experience, which I knew was limited. I shouldn’t even have magic, after all.

“You’ve talked to the mages before?” I asked Raj.

“Not in person,” said Raj. “Just in cross-world meetings. They aren’t deep enough in the Alliance to stir up offworld trouble, but this is exactly the kind of situation we want to avoid. Now the Alliance is involved in their business, like it or not.”

“Par for the course,” I said. The Alliance’s policies stopped anyone directly intervening in offworld affairs without prior permission, a necessity after so many worlds had suffered permanent damage as a result of exploitation of their resources. Like Valeria. For all the sophisticated technologies they had, half their main continent was a wasteland. Aglaia had only two doorways, so opportunities for interaction with other worlds had been limited, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people in the Alliance with a vested interest in their territories.

“At least they’re one degree friendlier than the centaurs,” I added.

“True,” said Raj. “I think they just enjoy disagreeing with every comment made by a human. I’m sure most of them don’t actually want a war. If all five million centaurs hated the Alliance, there’d never have been a majority vote to join.”

“Yeah, I thought about bringing that up at the meeting, but I didn’t like to use the word ‘naysayers’.”

Raj laughed, then abruptly scanned the trees either side of the path like he expected a horse-man to appear and throw a spear at us. I’d already checked we were too far away to be overheard, of course.

“Save it till we’re back at Central,” he said, crouching to pick up a loose stone. “This isn’t a world we can trust. Certainly not as far as magic goes. Sure, they aren’t overtly hostile with it, but if it gives an advantage…”

“Same can be said of most worlds,” I said. “Humans, even. Hell, all species to some extent. It’s that or die out. Survival.”

“Hmm.” He gave me a sideways look, tossing the stone into the air and catching it in one hand. “I have an inkling you have more than a theoretical interest in Aglaian magic, Kay. Doesn’t have anything to do with the reason you’re being so uptight about what really happened in the attack on Central, does it?”

Great. I’d thought I’d got away with being vague. Raj wasn’t one for probing questions, because it was a common agreement that the best way to survive as an Ambassador was not to ask unnecessary questions.

“Maybe I just want to be prepared in case it happens again,” I said. “It’s pretty clear Earth’s under-prepared as far as magical assaults go. And what are you doing with that?” I indicated the stone, following the motion as he caught it again.

He shrugged. “I collect tokens from other worlds. Might as well get something out of the experience apart from a national record at solitaire.” He tossed the stone into the air once more. It looked no different from an Earth one, but I didn’t question it.

“Where’d you learn Aglaian, anyway?” he asked.

I should have seen that one coming, too.

“Tutoring.” Of the offworld languages I spoke, it was probably the most obscure, but in hindsight, I’d figured out that most of the tutors I’d had over the first sixteen years of my life had concentrated on new Alliance worlds, or soon to be members. “You don’t speak it?”

“Nah. I speak six others, but I never figured I’d be watching centaurs argue. Most of my other missions have been a little closer to home.” He pocketed the stone. “Earth doesn’t normally have so many representatives involved in these kinds of missions. It’s a sign, I think. Offworlders across the Multiverse have their eyes on us now, and it’s not a good thing.”

“Never is, in my experience,” I said. “So they’re watching in case Earth screws up again and waiting to make a move? Where’d you hear that?” I hadn’t, and I always kept on top of the Alliance’s latest. But then, I’d never have pegged Aglaia as a threat.

“I was on Valeria not long after the attack happened. Power shifted there, after the Campbell family got taken out. They didn’t just trade with the Alliance, there were other Earth people involved. Rich tycoons, mostly. And there were some odd rumours about volatile offworld substances going missing.”

“Yeah, I saw some of that,” I said. “Those ravegens last week got hold of some. Turned themselves invisible.”

“Damn.”

“I know,” I said. “See, that’s what we ought to be dealing with.”

“You want to be where the action is,” said Raj. “I get it. There were other rumours on Valeria, too… kind of got lost in the ruckus around the Campbells, but someone mentioned witnessing questionable stunts and traffic violations on that day. Might you have had anything to do with it? Just out of curiosity, mind.”