Chapter Seven

Stronius stood at the edge of a glassy lake. It was a calm, clear day, warm for the mountains, with a soft breeze. Rock Agori were working nearby, building weapons of war. Not far away, a horde of Vorox, each chained to the other, was being marched off to labor in the mines.

Life was good.

Well, almost. As he looked down at his reflection in the water, Stronius noticed a small crack in the chestplate of his armor. When had that happened? Skrall armor was some of the toughest around and he couldn’t recall an opponent landing any blows lately that might have damaged it. This was puzzling.

Even more confusing —and disturbing — was that the crack was growing bigger as he watched. It was already more than two inches long, and spreading into a spider-web of tiny fractures. He staggered back a step. The crack was big enough now that he could see something through it. It looked like another layer of armor, this one silver.

The crack accelerated its pace. Before Stronius’ startled eyes, his chest armor split open, followed by his arm and leg plate. With a loud crack, his helmet shattered. He stared at his reflection in horror — something was emerging from inside the ruin of his armor — a baterra!

And Stronius could do nothing but scream.

Not far away, Tuma heard Stronius’ ragged cry. The female Skrall weren’t satisfied to just execute their prisoners. No, they wanted to torture them first, using their mental powers to create illusions. He had no idea what Stronius was seeing now, but it was a good guess that his elite warrior’s sanity would go before his life did.

Tuma’s weapon was on the ground, just out of his reach. The women had left it there to mock him. His mind told his arm to reach for it, but his arm wouldn’t move. His body was paralyzed by the mental force of his captors. Only his mouth still worked. When the time came, they wanted to hear his screams, too.

But a good warrior always had more than one strategy in mind. He’d hoped to use the threat of the baterra to talk the females into allying with him. If that wouldn’t work, he knew something that would… something that the females wouldn’t be able to resist.

He tried to rise. A stabbing pain tore through his mind. It was time, then. He opened his mouth and yelled one word: “Angonce.”

For a moment, the pain increased and he thought he would surely go mad or die. Then it eased, just enough for him to take a breath. The leader of the female Skrall approached. She grabbed Tuma’s jaw roughly and forced his head up to look at her.

“What do you know of Angonce?”

Tuma flicked his eyes toward Stronius. “Stop… whatever… you’re doing to him… and we’ll talk.”

The female Skrall nodded to one of the others. The next instant, Stronius stopped screaming and collapsed in a heap.

“I know where he might be,” said Tuma. “At least, where he once was.”

“Is that all?” the female Skrall spat. “We all know that. The great tower… the burning place… in the Valley of the Maze. That is where they all were.”

“And they all fled,” answered Tuma. “No one knows where. But Angonce always had more of a… curiosity… about the Agori than the others. He would stay close enough to keep an eye on them.”

The leader of the Sisters of the Skrall considered his words. The females of her species had been gifted from birth with psionic powers, strong enough to enable them to withstand the hatred and violence of the males and to resist the baterra. But the legends said that one female Skrall had once encountered the Great Being named Angonce, and Angonce had taught her how to ascend to a whole new level of power. Some said entire civilizations rose and fell on her whims now. She had evolved far past her own species and had no contact with them ever again. Still, every Skrall female hoped to one day find Angonce and learn his secrets.

“Why would you share this with us?” asked the female. “You know what we could do with that kind of power.”

“I could lie to you,” said Tuma, “and say I think greater power would make you virtuous and good. But the truth is, I think the whole story is a pile of rock steed droppings. It’s a load of nonsense you and your sisters tell each other to stay warm on cold nights in the mountains. Even if you find a Great Being, he will laugh in your face — that’s what they do best.”

“And if you’re wrong?” the female said, a wicked smile curving the edges of her mouth upward.

Tuma returned her smile. “Then I won’t live long enough to regret it, will I?”

“And what do you want in exchange?”

“Our freedom,” answered Tuma. “And your pledge to destroy any baterra you encounter on your journey.”

“The baterra pose no threat to us,” she countered. “We carry no weapons that they would recognize as such. Why should we start a war with them?”

“Because the alternative is two dead Skrall you have to bury, and no more idea of where Angonce is than you had before,” said Tuma. “You know, the problem with revenge is it is over so quickly. And when you are done, what is there left to do? Even miserable creatures like the Sisters of the Skrall need something to aspire to, to strive for… isn’t that true?”

Of course, thought the female. In this case, we aspire to the destruction of you and yours. So we will seek out baterra for you… and make sure they know just where you are.

She nodded. “We have a bargain, Tuma. You and Stronius can leave… but once we find our Great Being, we will see you two again. Be sure of that.”

That is what you think, witch, thought Tuma. As soon as we have seized the Bara Magna desert and destroyed any baterra that are left, we will find a way to eliminate you too.

“A bargain it is,” said Tuma. “And when — if — you return from your quest, be sure we will give you a… memorable welcome home.”