The Coalition claims to guide and nurture our future, but can we really progress when the same leaders have told us what to do, how to think, and who to defer to for thousands of years? Is this not an institution of power that continues itself at the cost of any risk? Even the most noble of souls may grow complacent with the way things are, and fail to acknowledge the struggles beyond their sight. The Coalition is not evil by nature, and exists for the betterment of all the folk. Yet that intent matters little in the face of the reality of what it does to those beneath, and the opportunities it stifles every day. Safety and contentment, held too long, becomes stagnation. Stagnation becomes a slow death.
– The Book of Renewal, Chapter 3.
Aside from the two cultists in the cargo area, and Naven sealed in his quarters, Apex was alone again.
It was irritating, being forced to stay rigid and pretend to be an inanimate ship. In his own time, he had been able to appear before any city and simply demand respect. Not that he had done that many times, since it was just rude. Rarely did the Lesser Folk have anything that interested him.
The upside of this situation was that he could now contemplate the spark of Essence within him largely uninterrupted. Sallus was a mage of some power, he could tell, but he had rarely seen her use her abilities. Naven, however, was as mundane as humans came. He had mana within him, and some ability to channel it, but his power was the definition of average.
That made him an excellent person to talk to while working on the Essence problem.
“We may speak now,” Apex rumbled. “I have disabled the devices Sallus placed within your room to monitor our conversations, once more.”
Naven had been bouncing a ball off the wall to keep himself occupied, but upon hearing that, he caught it one last time and sat up in his bunk. “I wondered if she would do that. Won’t she get suspicious?”
Apex chuckled quietly. “She is very clever, but presumes I will not understand much of this technology. In that she is only partly right. Everything here runs on magic, in a way… and I am much better at magic than any Lesser Folk. I will make them seem to hear nothing.”
The human eased from his bunk to one of the two chairs at the table, rolling the ball around the table in an idle, bored motion. “She’s dangerous. Really dangerous. The Cult is an annoyance in most parts of space, but if they had the resources to refurbish a starship like you and then put you in it – even if you’re not the real Apexillos – then they have more resources than anyone thought. And I’m pretty sure Sallus is very high up in the Cult.”
“I agree,” Apex muttered. “However, I am not so certain her goals align with what you believe the Cult to be. That is something you must clarify.”
Naven’s frown deepened as he leaned back in the chair, now idly rolling the ball under his palm. The dragon had killed all his comrades, but the officer was starting to realize that Apex was not exactly malicious, and it was complicating his feelings for this. He sighed deeply and as he pondered what to say.
“All right,” he began. “From what we know, the Cult is a proto-anarchist movement that wants to overthrow the existing government, which they believe is holding back the advancement of all the Enlightened peoples. The ones you call Lesser Folk. Not an endearing term, by the way.”
After a moment of thought, Apex growled, “I suppose not. I will endeavor to use your term for them, if only out of politeness. Thus far you have told me nothing I had not gathered myself.”
The captive officer shrugged and spread his hands. “I’m not sure what you know, so I’m just telling you what I know.” He rubbed at one of his temples. “Anyway. They operate like a typical cult does. They find people who have failed at their goals, either due to incompetence or just a run of bad luck, and convince them that the entire system is against them. They build up an idea of victimhood, and that their shared experience can let them join together and strike back at the system that hurt them.”
Naven grimaced as he said that. “I was pretty sure the whole thing was for self-enrichment of the higher-ups, which is what makes people like me angry with them. There are people that the system fails… I’m not naive about that. And the Cult of Renewal isn’t the only group that preys on them, just apparently much more dangerous than I thought.”
“Hmm…” Apex rumbled that in thought, letting the speaker carry it out. “Certainly an easy way to get devotees, but Sallus does not seem devoted to anyone else, only to her cause. She certainly does not worship me, and does not expect me to do so with her.”
“Yeah, that is strange,” Naven replied, drumming fingers on the table. “She seems much more in control than that. She demands respect but not worship. She doesn’t strike me as a narcissist, like most cult leaders, just someone with a goal. I don’t suppose you know what it is?”
The dragon snorted in reply. “Not her true goal, just the one she shares with me. Now tell me, what do you know of me and the Thirteen Heroes? In brief.”
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A small shrug, and Naven asked, “Didn’t she explain this?”
“Sallus will tell me what she believes I want to hear in order to gain my cooperation. You will tell me what you know because you do not care, so long as I hold my end of the bargain.”
Naven flashed a grin at that. “Fair.” He thought for a long moment, scratching at his growing beard. “I already told you most of it. You were the leader of the dragons, the Emperor Dragon, and the thirteen heroes were blessed by the gods to vanquish you. They defeated you and were granted immortality.”
He opened his hands and spread them wide again. “That’s the story, anyway, and as far as we know, they all live. Some haven’t been seen in recorded history, but about ten of them have been in and out of the history books. Seven of them founded the Principalities when the Coalition was formed nine hundred years ago, but two have abdicated since, and even the ones who still run their Principalities usually leave things in the hands of some kind of organization. We call the Regencies but they all have different names. An eighth Principality was formed about two hundred years ago, but they weren’t founded by one of the heroes, so some don’t count them even if they’re technically part of the Coalition.”
“Mmmhmm…” The low rumbling noise that came from the speaker was thoughtful, now mulling over what the heroes had done. Apex found some of this curious, but doubted Naven could tell him some of the specifics he needed.
The human cleared his throat. “So… if you’re really the Apexillos of legend… tell me about your encounter with the thirteen heroes?”
That question caught Apex by surprise, but then he considered. It would not hurt to tell his side of the story… though perhaps he should leave out how his Essence was stolen. He still had to figure out how that had been done in the first place.
“Very well…”
Naven settled back to listen.
His time with the human prisoner done, Apex sunk into his own thoughts to consider his options. He really couldn’t put it off any longer.
To see his cameras he turned his vision ‘inward’ and focused on places. To do this, Apex once again turned his thoughts toward his concept of self… a very different kind of ‘inward’ than what he used for his internal room sight. His actual vision vanished, replaced by a deep void, broken up by a scattered constellation of ‘lights’ more felt than seen.
The sputtering flames of his Essence, divided, were still hard to feel… mostly. Apex steeled himself to linger in this state now, something he had rarely done even as a flesh and blood dragon. Usually, he’d reached for the power, drawn it, and been done. Now… he stayed.
Apex let his presence surround the fluttering spark of his remaining Essence. It wasn’t much, but it was there… he wondered what had happened to it while he was dead. Had one of the heroes died? Yet he counted thirteen embers aside from his own, in varying states of brightness.
Most were far away. In fact, all were far away, but one in particular was closer than the others. Still an uncountable distance away, which he knew to be the distance of space. Even places close by in space were farther than an entire world, and he himself had flown more than the distance of a continent in minutes, in this new body.
He had never needed to reach beyond his own, and wondered if this imagining of ‘space’ were even something that would exist, were he not sundered as he was. He curled protectively around the tiny remnant of his formerly majestic core, as if he could fan it back to life… and then looked once again at the close by spark. It burned brighter than his, somehow. Or perhaps that was his imagination, his desperation to be complete once more.
Apex stared outward… and extended himself. He stretched outward, trying to get more than the barest flicker of a feeling from that nearest flame. He did not need to envision his body doing so – his mind was far beyond needing that crutch of visualization. Yet that was the only way to describe what he was doing, pushing his own being, his soul outward.
It did not feel right.
His Essence – the one detached from him – could finally be felt more closely. Still an achingly far distance from him, yet the tingling presence touched feathery light at the edges of his perception. It was warm, holding just a hint of the roaring bonfire he’d once possessed, but even that warmth confirmed it was still active.
Yet it teased and withdrew, tickled and danced away. Not quite touching him, even as he strained to get closer.
He brushed against the sensation again, more fully this time. He could feel it pulse like a heartbeat, but with it came a strange, oily sensation. Like a bubble of grease surrounding his goal, rousing a feeling of disgust deep within him.
He paused, considering if this would harm his soul… but when nothing arose but that crawling revulsion, he tried again. Just a light, probing push, even though doing so made his very being ache from the strain of extending his soul out so far beyond the limits of his body.
Everything went black.
Bored and relaxing in the confines of his bunk, Naven lay with his arms behind his head, staring at the underside of the top bunk. At least he didn’t have to share the cramped room with another crewman. As being a prisoner went, they’d treated him remarkably well. Sallus had been cold-blooded and pragmatic, but while she clearly saw him as a liability, she’d been civil yet distant otherwise.
Then there was Apex.
The dragon clearly thought little of the lives of humans and others, but he had a quirky sort of honor. Every once in a while, his gut twisted with the memory of those last moments on the Vibrant Blade, of seeing his fellow crew members burning or dying. Sometimes, he woke up in a cold sweat even now, and his body still ached from time to time. It had only been a week since the attack, but he’d learned it had been a casualty of timing, not malice.
That didn’t mean he’d forgiven the voice claiming to be a dragon, but he was starting to realize that perhaps more was going on than a simple need for supplies.
He couldn’t despair. He needed something to hang on to, and right now all he had was his duty to the people of the Commonwealth.
This ship was full of sociopaths and zealots. That much he knew. But Apex, while he did not seem to care much for any morality, valued his opinion as a counter to Sallus. If he could use that to minimize casualties, maybe he could give himself some meaning.
Without warning, the lights flickered off, emergency runners flaring to life. Naven scowled in confusion, rolling himself to the side to rise…
Then just as quickly, the emergency lights shut off, and the room lights ignited with a faint hiss-humm of mana circuits flowing again.
