THE PROPHECY

Therefore, I will raise up one from among those you despise. And I will awaken his eyes to the mysteries which I have hidden from men since the foundations of the world. His feet will I make to tread upon the paths of destruction and his hands to make war. He will uproot the seeds of corruption which you have sown throughout the earth. And then you will know that I am the Lord and my justice is everlasting.

— The Writings of Ebnisha

CHAPTER 1

ARMAROS’ COMPOUND

NORTHERN BRAZIL

The valley was flooded with the high-pitched whine and rhythmic pulsing of a massive cargo helicopter. It descended through the jungle haze like a sluggish insect in its last hours of life. When its landing gear finally came to rest on the wet earth south of the portal building, a crew of Armaros’ human soldiers raced across the field toward the cargo door opening beneath the tail boom. Carts, piled high with boxes of various sizes, were pushed out of the building toward the helicopter. Its gigantic, single rotor system continued turning, only slowing long enough for the cargo bay to be filled with the shipment that was still arriving in pieces from the next world. The procession of workers stretched like a parade of ants through the main level of the building, down the halls and elevators, all the way to the portal.

General Skradek oversaw the operation from the roof of the communications building. The blackened concrete of the building’s outer walls was a reminder of Null’s recent attack, but the roof had since been repaired and Null had been neutralized. Skradek kept his eyes moving, reading the personnel identifiers that were superimposed over each worker and occasionally glancing up into the hills surrounding the compound. Pockets of mist clung to the vegetation, offering abundant concealment whether or not there were any invading enemies to take advantage of it.

Minutes after touching down, the helicopter’s twin engines began increasing their output. The human workers exited the cargo bay, exchanging nervous looks as a team of Armaros’ guards passed them. A lieutenant and two scouts marched up the ramp to accompany the precious cargo on its trip. As the door latched into the closed position, the waving grass around the mechanical beast suddenly folded over from the downward thrust of the rotary wings. Defying gravity, the helicopter rose into the air, pivoted along its vertical axis, and sped off to the east. No sooner had it left than another one approached from the west and began its descent, generating a new burst of activity from the workers on the ground. For each helicopter that dotted the sky to the west, circling in a holding pattern, there was another team of soldiers standing at attention near the landing zone, waiting to accompany the shipment. Skradek had never seen so many of his own kind in one place. It didn’t take any of his enhanced cognitive abilities to realize that this was an important operation for Armaros.

Skradek summoned a route map, and a diagram appeared on the right side of his vision. Flight time to Boa Vista was two hours and forty-four minutes. From there, the cargo would be loaded onto trucks and the drive to Santos in São Paulo would take another sixty-six hours. Transfers and refueling stops would add to the process time, but before long the precious cargo would be safely aboard a container ship and moving through the South Atlantic.

[First helicopter en route. Loading time was four minutes and twenty seconds.] The General’s brief mental report was issued with a thought command and appeared instantly on Armaros’ network.

HONG KONG, CHINA

The wall of tiled video screens in Armaros’ office displayed an assortment of text documents, charts, and photos. Several video feeds were running in different locations, but Armaros’ gaze was fixed on the one at the bottom left of the array. The footage alternated every few seconds between a wide shot of a semicircular arrangement of chairs and tables, and close-ups of the representatives from each of the fifteen member states. Most of their expressions were blank from the resignation that comes after lengthy debate. A few faces were still animated as they argued with passion. It was clear that the representative from Argentina, serving as president of the UN Security Council this month, had lost control of this emergency summit addressing the allegations of a global terrorist organization. His term would be over in just a few days, and it was obvious that he would be relieved when the rotating responsibility fell to Australia.

The opaque glass door to Armaros’ office swung open. His assistant entered the room and crossed the polished marble flooring with a muffled click emphasizing each footstep. He stopped in front of Armaros and set a chrome briefcase down on the coffee table. “Sir, the operation in Brazil is on schedule. Everything appears to be going as planned.”

“Good. That will be all for now,” Armaros replied.

The assistant turned and left the room without another word.

When the door swung shut, Armaros leaned forward from his chair and set down his brandy. Opening the briefcase, he inserted a key in the upper left corner of the control panel and allowed the encryption device to boot up before removing the handset. He pressed a button and lifted it to his ear while he waited for the call to be routed.

“Yes?”

Armaros cleared his throat. “The debate is stalled. The situation has grown beyond them.”

There was a pause before the man on the other end replied. “I suppose it has.”

“A neutral party will be needed to push this toward a resolution,” Armaros added.

“I see …” the other man mumbled. Disappointment was evident in his voice. And when he spoke again, Armaros detected fear. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll be in touch soon with instructions,” Armaros replied simply before hanging up the phone.

The waves generated by his campaign against Null had not subsided as easily as he had hoped. If there had been any pleasure at defeating the last shred of opposition in this world, it was surely gone by now. All that remained was the burden of responsibility. He was no longer a warrior. He was a glorified daycare provider, and the peoples of the earth were his squabbling children.

Armaros lifted his brandy from the glass table and stood, walking slowly toward the north-facing windows that spanned from floor to ceiling. The nighttime lights from Kowloon reflected off Victoria Harbour, adding to the neon glow of human progress that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Perhaps progress is the wrong word, he thought.

STERLITAMAK, REPUBLIC OF BASHKORTOSTAN, RUSSIA

“When do you need to make the call?” Adair asked.

“By tomorrow morning at the latest,” Kael answered. “They were expecting a delay because I told Armaros I would ensure there weren’t any survivors. But if Kokabiel’s security detail doesn’t hear from me soon, they’re going to suspect something is wrong.”

“Then we need to come up with a plan fast,” Helmsley pointed out. “Armaros thinks we’re all dead, and we need to exploit that advantage before it slips through our fingers.”

Despite the urgency of the situation, Helmsley’s drab hotel room went silent as everyone considered his words. The deaths of Jensen and Nikolaus were clearly dampening everyone’s ability to think creatively.

Kael let his eyes drift around the room as his mind stumbled through the information that was now available to him. He was surrounded by the best team that he could hope for—Helmsley and Marshall were both brilliant in their organizational thinking and planning, Adair was an unparalleled strategist, the remaining members of TAC 1 were the finest soldiers Kael had ever fought with, and Sean, though young and inexperienced, was as tough as they come. Even among such friends, Kael couldn’t see a path to success. Eventually, the sight of the room’s scant furniture and blank, white walls broke through to Kael’s conscious mind, echoing the bleakness of their circumstances.

“Kael, why don’t you go straight for the jugular?” It was Marshall who had finally broken the silence. “You know where Armaros is now. Can’t you just take him out and be done with it?” she asked.

Kael shook his head, wishing that the motion would also clear away the debris that choked his stream of logic. With Kokabiel’s memories now lingering in his mind as though they were his own experiences, Kael’s understanding of the problems they faced had been deepening ever since they had left the smoking remains of Null’s Eastern COMM Relay Station.

“It’s more complicated than that.” When no one else spoke, Kael realized that they were waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s not going to work like it did in my world with Rameel. We can’t just fix everything by killing him and going to war with his followers. The problem is more complex and integrated in this world.”

“What do you mean?” Helmsley asked. “That approach has worked well so far. Satarel and Kokabiel are dead. Armaros is the only one left.”

“True. Satarel is dead,” Kael admitted. “We understood his life’s work before I revealed his location to Armaros. And when you take control of Null, all of Satarel’s loose ends will be tied up. But with Kokabiel, we got lucky. I was able to steal his memory before he died. If I hadn’t done that …” Kael looked down and scuffed his foot against the charcoal-colored industrial carpeting. “It’s difficult to explain just how bad the situation is, and killing him didn’t even come close to solving the problems he created. His operations are all self-contained and fully automated. If we don’t stop them, they’ll just keep going and no one will suspect a thing until it’s too late.”

“Why don’t you lay it out for us, then?” Marshall suggested. “So we can get a sense of the scope.”

“Okay,” Kael said, nodding. The room was quiet as he decided how to present the information. There were so many approaches, but his mind finally settled on a chronological route. “Ever since the Temporal realm came into existence, it has been possible for living things to die. This realm was born when it separated from the Eternal. Without that sustaining force, it became a temporary place, and the Myndarym had to alter it to allow birth and regeneration, or all things would have quickly come to their end. The other side of that reality is that nothing in the Eternal realm can ever die. It can only change form or location. It is a realm of permanence, which also means that nothing new can be created there. For both sides of the war, this principle has defined the conflict more than anything else. Imagine fighting a war when you know that you will never have any new soldiers. The ones you lose are shifted to another place along the spectrum of creation and become inaccessible. The Marotru were not content to continue fighting with these restrictions and they eventually found a way around the problem. Though they were forbidden from the Temporal realm, they were able to corrupt a group of Myndarym by suggesting the idea of returning there in order to rule it. These Myndarym adopted the idea as their own and eventually began to see it as their destiny. In time, they followed through with it, and I’ve already told you the story of the Wandering Stars that I heard from Saba. As one of these Myndarym, Kokabiel has been working to help the Marotru exploit a very interesting phenomenon that exists between the two realms. They call it the Dual-Origin Principle. Simply put, it means that every being that comes to life in this realm, simultaneously comes into existence there.”

“Oh. I see where this is going,” Helmsley interjected.

Kael nodded. “Now, the bodily forms aren’t identical in both places, but the principle remains. Things that live here also live there. Kokabiel has been working very diligently to explore the nuances of this rule. As the only one of the Wandering Stars who retained the ability to shape himself, he alone has maintained his understanding of the intricate workings of living beings. This understanding has been the driving force behind why he is still interested in shaping the world.”

“You mean, why he was.” Adair pointed out.

Kael suddenly realized that he had been speaking of Kokabiel as if he were still alive. “Yes, was. Sorry. What I mean is that, for thousands of years, he had been working to understand the relationship between the realms—what type of biological structures created in this realm produce what type of spiritual structures in the other. And where the consciousness lives—that’s another part of it. At the moment, all of us in this room exist in both realms. But I’m only aware of my existence here because this is where my consciousness lives. If it lived in the Eternal realm, I would experience life there, even though I technically have a physical presence in both places. Kokabiel had been studying both aspects of the Dual-Origin Principle. And long before we killed him, he had perfected this knowledge and begun putting it to use.”

“Are you saying he was breeding Marotru soldiers?” Marshall asked. Her face was scrunched into a mask of disgust.

“No. He’s manufacturing them,” Kael clarified. “He’s become a master of synthesizing biology and manipulating consciousness. He manufactures demonic soldiers, biological creatures whose temporal bodies are stored here but whose eternal bodies and consciousnesses reside in the Eternal realm where the Marotru can put them to work. He’s building an army according to design specifications from the Marotru’s commanders.”

“You mean, he was,” Thompson clarified.

“No, is. I’m sorry. I know I’m still talking as if he’s alive,” Kael admitted. “I realize he’s dead, but his legacy of work still lives. His manufacturing operations continue even now.”

“Where?” Helmsley asked, leaning back against a desk.

“Under the ocean and ice in Antarctica.”

“Why there?”

Kael glanced around the room. “It’s the largest volume of unused, three-dimensional space on earth that is essentially free of people and their observations.”

Marshall glanced at Helmsley, then back to Kael. “Why? How many soldiers are we talking about here?”

Kael took a deep breath before revealing the scope of the problem. “Billions.”

“What?” Martinez exclaimed.

Kael nodded. “Billions of demons.”

Thompson, who had been quiet all morning, sat down on the edge of the bed. “So, are they just walking around in a gigantic room or something?”

“No, that would be an inefficient use of space,” Kael admitted, surprising himself with the very words that Kokabiel would have used. “And a potential liability. Since they aren’t aware of their bodies here, all that’s required is to store them at a reasonable temperature, maintain their biology with nutrients, and dispose of the waste. They’re kept in suspended animation.”

Greer looked over at Thompson. “It’s like a creepy science-fiction movie.”

Thompson nodded.

The room went silent again as they all tried to wrap their minds around what Kael had just revealed. After nearly a minute of complete silence, Kael pushed ahead. “And that’s just the first facility.”

Everyone looked in his direction again.

“After supplying the Marotru with additional resources, the next step was to expand their existing resources. Each demon in the Eternal realm is limited to the capabilities of its own body, which is essentially a container. And every attempt by a demon to abandon its container to possess another being’s body has been destructive and short-lived. This is due to the fact that every creature in this world has a will. A sense of itself and its own desires. This is not something easily overridden. When demons have attempted to do this, a sort of dissociative identity disorder has been produced—the body was not designed to host the will of two beings. However, if a being could be designed with all the capacity for intelligent life, but lacking a will or consciousness of its own, it would be the perfect candidate for such a possession. Even more so if its biology was designed with the possessing being in mind. And this is what Kokabiel did. He found a way to manufacture a physically-superior being, custom designed with a shell consciousness that resides in the Eternal realm where a demon can possess it.”

“An equipment upgrade,” Greer stated.

“That’s exactly right,” Kael replied. “It would be as if you were given a rifle that could shoot twice as far and was capable of automating all of the calculations you do in your head before you take a shot. And in response to that, you would grow into your new equipment. As physical limitations are removed, you as a soldier would develop into your new capacity. You would change how you operate. And this is what has happened in the Eternal realm on multiple levels. Not only have individual demons grown into their new bodies, but those with greater cognitive capacity have been utilized in master/slave combinations. Kokabiel has been able to link this project with the previous one to enable one demon to have control over a legion of new soldiers.”

Helmsley started rubbing his forehead.

“This just keeps getting worse,” Marshall said under her breath.

“I told you,” Kael replied.

C HAPTER 2

OUTSIDE PETROZAVODSK, REPUBLIC OF KARELIA, RUSSIA

The wind howled through the pine trees and across the shallow valley, picking up the ripples on the surface of the river and tossing them into miniature fountains. The temperature was dropping rapidly with winter’s approach, and it appeared that the coming storm would announce the change of seasons with a bold statement.

Daud paced along the dark pebbles of the river’s edge, passively watching the long grasses whip from side to side in obedience to the wind. In a clearing behind him, two helicopters were grounded, while seventeen soldiers stood guard. The aircraft, as well as the assortment of lieutenants and scouts, were now his resources to command. Shortly after appropriating their captain’s body, Daud had stumbled across something very strange, something that required careful consideration before he continued with his mission.

As far back as he could remember, he’d always been a soldier. In fact, his earliest memories were of waking from a coma after an unsuccessful mission. Though his body had healed from the injuries he’d sustained, he had required weeks of physical therapy before he could move like normal again. The damage to his brain had obliterated his long-term memory, which had undone all of his training. The doctors said that he could still live a normal civilian life, but something inside Daud refused to think of himself as normal. He was a soldier, even if the accident had deleted everything he had worked to achieve. He convinced them that he was capable of being retrained, and after he applied himself to his recovery program with exceptional results, they released him from the hospital so he could pursue that goal. As odd as it might sound, the knowledge that he wasn’t strictly human had always been with him. It had been taken for granted and never considered strange.

But yesterday’s acquisition had given him cause to reconsider his stance. When Daud had extended his hand to make physical contact with his next victim, he had expected there to be some similarities. After all, they were both soldiers in the same army. But mostly, he had expected an improvement to his status and capabilities. And in that he wasn’t disappointed. What came as a shock, however, was the fact that the captain’s beginnings were identical to his own. Not similar, identical. No parents. No memories of childhood. No friends. Just a hospital and a team of doctors. Even their words had been the same, as if they had been reading from a script. It wasn’t a coincidence, it was a clue.

So, when his newly acquired soldiers had requested their next objective, Daud had given them a latitude and longitude that had brought them here. A remote location where he could plan his next mission. This one had begun with reconnaissance, which was why Daud needed a quiet place to think, while he set his mind to searching the network to which he was attached. The same network that no longer knew where he was or what he was doing. It had been a source of comfort and information since his first days at the hospital, always there like a part of his body. He had assumed that if the network knew where the hospital was located, it would eventually reveal that information to him. And his assumption had been accurate.

The scouts and lieutenants turned their attention to Daud as he returned to the helicopters. Unlike human soldiers would have, they had never broken their posture of attention, but their eyes were now looking to him for an order.

“Where are we headed, Captain?” one of the lieutenants vocalized.

Daud climbed into the nearest chopper and took his seat. “East,” he answered.

STERLITAMAK, REPUBLIC OF BASHKORTOSTAN, RUSSIA

A knock sounded at the door. Kael watched Greer put his eye to the peephole before turning the handle and letting Helmsley back inside the small hotel room.

The former director of Null’s Western Operations Division walked to the center of the drab accommodations and set a paper shopping bag on the bed. “I couldn’t find a grocery store; this is from a restaurant a few blocks away.”

Martinez quickly opened the bag and began distributing the food.

“What did I miss?” Helmsley asked, his eyes drifting to the floor where Marshall’s use of the complimentary stationary was beginning to take over the room.

“Not much,” she replied. “I started a SWOT Analysis to get a handle on the scope.” Marshall accepted her food before returning to the wooden chair in the corner.

Martinez offered a small, paper-wrapped bundle, but Kael silently declined. He was too worked up to eat at the moment. He’d been using the short break to organize his thoughts, and as soon as everyone had some food in their hands, he continued.

“Once these projects of Kokabiel’s were operational, the next question that came to mind was: why should this be limited to biological matter? Why couldn’t these principles be applied to materials as well? This realization began a series of joint projects between Kokabiel and Armaros. With Armaros tasked as the enforcer of this world and providing security for all of Kokabiel’s projects, he was in a position to benefit from what Kokabiel had developed. He began accepting biological provisions from Kokabiel to adapt for his own uses.”

“His super-soldiers,” Helmsley noted around a mouthful of food.

“Yes, but that’s not all,” Kael said. “Armaros took the technology and ran with it. He must have learned a great deal from the experience, because his wielding of mechanical and electrical properties grew exponentially. Those aircraft that destroyed the COMM relay station were his design. Kokabiel had nothing to do with it, other than providing the inspiration with his shaping abilities. Armaros created an electromechanical object with unparalleled weaponry, able to morph itself on the fly in order to alternate between supersonic and subsonic flight.”

“Is that what they were doing?” Greer asked.

Kael nodded. “So, the question is, if a machine can feel its environment through a system of sensors and processors, what’s left? The only thing it lacks before you might call it life would be an independent consciousness.”

“Artificial intelligence,” Thompson noted.

“Yes. Well, a purely digital consciousness has so far proved to be an unconquerable obstacle. But biological consciousness already exists, so why replicate it? The only hurdle is the biomechanical interface. If one could sufficiently integrate a biological system—capable of containing a will—with a mechanical body that feels itself and its environment, wouldn’t that entire being come into existence in the Eternal realm?”

“My God,” Marshall exclaimed.

“Kael, you’re starting to sound excited about the prospect,” Adair cautioned.

“I’m sorry,” Kael said, suddenly taking a deep breath. “It’s Kokabiel’s enthusiasm that you’re hearing. When I get going, it takes a conscious effort to distinguish between his memories and my own. Anyway, Kokabiel and Armaros have made significant progress on this technology. Armaros is developing the weapon systems, and Kokabiel’s third manufacturing facility is just starting to produce test modules for the wetware. They’re grown from human brain and nervous systems that have been hybridized with electromechanical outputs. They’re only a few months away from being ready to test the integration and, if all goes well, manufacturing will begin on different sizes and configurations of the modules.”

“So, these modules plug into a robot soldier?” Greer asked.

Kael shook his head. “Think bigger. The Marotru already have the resources they need at the soldier level. These modules are control systems that can be linked together in arrays for running entire battle stations. As soon as these come on-line, they will immediately gain superiority in their land, sea, and air campaigns.”

“Wait,” Sean said, setting his food in his lap. “These are giant machines, like an aircraft carrier? But they’re really demons?”

Kael considered the question for a moment, deciding that it was a decent comparison, before nodding. “Not all creatures in this world have a centralized brain design like ours. Some have brain cells distributed throughout their limbs and other organs. It allows for more efficient independent operations without sacrificing coordinated efforts when needed. This type of approach is much better suited to large systems.”

“At the risk of sounding callous,” Helmsley cut in, “I’m more concerned about the Temporal realm at the moment. Obviously, this is a terrible development for the Amatru, but what about us? You said Kokabiel was able to manipulate where the shell consciousness ends up. Could these demon-controlled things become a reality in our world too?”

Kael stopped pacing and sat down in his chair. “That was supposed to be the next step. The technology is already available, but Kokabiel was dragging his feet. He wasn’t anxious to give over his control of this world to the Marotru, which leads me to the next project. His private facility.”

Marshall set her meal aside, half eaten.

Most of the others exhaled loudly, and Greer voiced their collective thought. “There’s more?”

Kael wished he could stop, but they needed to understand the depth of the problem. “All of the Wandering Stars came to this realm because they saw an opportunity to become gods of the world they helped shape. Through the ages, that initial vision has been compromised, modified, or in some cases abandoned altogether. But not for Kokabiel. He never let go of it, even when the confrontation between the Marotru and the Amatru grew to engulf the plans of the Wandering Stars. Whatever loyalties might appear on the surface, what he truly desired to see was for both sides to wipe each other out in the end. He was helping the Marotru, but only to give them the tools to bring about the destruction of everyone and everything, including themselves. And when the Marotru and the Amatru had killed each other off, and every other living creature in this realm had been destroyed in the process, Kokabiel would have been the only one left standing. And he would have had everything he needed to recreate the world. You see, since the beginning, he’d only ever been interested in shaping, in studying and replicating how creation was put together. When the Temporal realm began separating from the Eternal, and original designs had to be modified to compensate, the engineer inside him started to panic. He was witnessing the death of critical information. And that’s when he began collecting samples and data. What began as observations tattooed on animals skins and embalmed tissue samples, ended up as a gigantic server farm and a molecular library containing the buildings block of every biological species that has ever existed.”

“Every species?” Sean asked.

“Yes. The extinct ones also.”

“What kind of data are we talking about with the server farm?” Thompson asked.

“Models of molecular structures, brain synapse maps, genomes. Every type of model that humans are currently trying to construct in order to understand and control this realm. But fully developed. It is a comprehensive library. The largest data set in existence.”

“Is this located where the other three facilities are?” Marshall asked.

“No. Armaros doesn’t even know about this one. It’s completely separate.”

“Alright,” Helmsley announced. “We’re running out of time here. We need to bottom-line this because we haven’t even discussed Armaros yet.”

“Okay,” Kael said, standing up again and stretching his body. “My point with all of this is that killing Kokabiel wasn’t a complete solution to his side of the problem. It was barely a partial solution. His work continues even as we speak, and it needs to be destroyed. All of it. But we can’t do that without revealing ourselves to Armaros.”

“Hold on,” Marshall said, scribbling on a pad of paper as she spoke. “If we can’t kill Armaros until we know what else he’s working on, then Kael will have to capture him, or paralyze him like he did with Kokabiel. We need to steal his memory.”

“Right,” Kael said.

Marshall finished writing, then tore the page from the pad and laid it down on the floor. “We need to define the requirements for this mission. One by one. Even if we can’t see a way to solve them all.”

Greer sat forward. “Okay. Let’s drill down through each problem. In order to capture Armaros, we’ll have to go through his guards.”

Kael shook his head, but kept silent.

Sean noticed the motion and tried to lock eyes with Kael. “It is possible. I took out a truck full of them with a grenade launcher in Helsinki. And look what you did to that one in the rail yard.”

“Those were just his lower-ranking soldiers,” Kael objected. “You saw what Armaros’ technology did to that COMM station. I would bet he employs his best technology for his personal protection. And we’re not talking about taking on one soldier. He doesn’t go anywhere unless he’s surrounded by multiple soldiers at all times.”

“Nevertheless,” Marshall interjected, “it’s a requirement.” She tore another piece of paper from the pad and laid it on the floor.

“We can help with that,” Greer said, looking to Thompson and Martinez.

Kael turned and leaned on the wall, peering out the sliver of window beside the closed blinds. “If I have to go through his guards, it will have the same effect as blowing up all of Kokabiel’s facilities. It’ll just announce our presence.”

Marshall knelt down and scribbled the word quietly on the paper she’d just laid down. “So, the requirement is to get through the guards without alerting Armaros.”

Kael turned back toward the group with a look of amusement on his face. It disappeared a second later as he decided not to argue the point. “Then there’s the next problem. I have these memories—Kokabiel’s memories—of things that Armaros has done. He won’t go down easily like Satarel. He’s a warrior. It’s going to be a fight, and I’m not sure I can win it.”

“That never stopped you before,” Sean pointed out.

Kael shrugged. He wasn’t sure how to put into words what he felt by instinct. The difference with this fight was that he wasn’t going in blind. He knew the mind of the enemy well enough to be concerned this time around.

“The common denominator here is that you need to take him by surprise,” Helmsley pointed out. “And to do that, you need him to voluntarily step away from his guards.”

Martinez exhaled loudly and lay back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

Thompson stood up to stretch his legs.

The conversation continued for another hour without any significant progress before Kael announced that he needed some fresh air. With Marshall’s arrangement of papers sprawling across the floor, bed, and desk like an ominous snowdrift, Kael opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

Adair followed his son to the end of the hall, down the stairwell, and through the hotel lobby without saying a word. When they stepped into the back alley, snow was falling through hazy skies, slowly blanketing the wrought-iron fences and brick walls.

Kael took a deep breath and let it out in a giant plume of white. “Don’t worry. I’m not going far. I don’t have a horse this time.”

Adair smiled and tucked his hands into his pockets. Both of them had left without coats. For the moment, the air was crisp and refreshing, but it would soon turn uncomfortable.

“It’s difficult to think clearly in a large group,” Kael admitted.

“It can be,” Adair replied. “But what they’re doing is important. You have to be able to define the problem first.”

Kael lifted his head and let a few white flakes settle on his face as he closed his eyes. “Did you see that pile of papers? Each one is an objective. And for each one, there are at least several reasons why it can’t be achieved.”

Adair kept silent.

“I was so optimistic when we left the attack site,” Kael continued. “But the more I think about it, the worse it gets.”

“I noticed something in there,” Adair said.

Kael opened his eyes and wiped the melted snowflakes from his face.

“Every time someone else spoke, they would use the word we. Every time you spoke, you used the word I.”

Kael squinted. “Father. I’m not confident that I can go up against Armaros and win. I’m not even sure I can get past his guards. And you’ve seen what I can do.”

“Yes?”

Kael’s shoulders slumped. “This isn’t just a group of men with swords and bows. It isn’t even a group of men, they are more than that.”

“So there’s nothing the rest of us can do to help?” Adair asked.

Kael took another deep breath. “I just … I can’t see a way through it that doesn’t end with everyone dying. Every last one of you.”

Adair let the words hang in the air for a moment before responding. “You know, the prophecy of The Awakened implies a lot of things, some of which can be interpreted to mean your ability to fight. But that is not all of it. What stands out to me is that The Awakened is an impetus. Someone who causes things to happen. It doesn’t mean you have to do everything by yourself, or even that you can. What I see in you is mankind’s greatest leader in the making.”

Kael shook his head and turned to face his father, a grin forming at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve never been a leader. It just doesn’t come naturally.” He turned to look down the alley toward the buildings in the distance. “And how can you be mankind’s greatest leader when everyone ends up dead?”

“Kael, I know your mother and I didn’t bring you up in the traditional Orud way. And I don’t regret having Saba as your tutor. But what you missed by foregoing the traditional studies of the Orudan Empire was its history of leadership and the lessons it has to offer. The Empire owes its survival to two primary things—its undying spirit of determination and its ability to learn from the past. There have been several low points in its history, but there have also been many periods of excellence. And when I think about the Empire’s greatest leaders during those times, what I see is that they were willing to do what was necessary, in spite of their personal ambitions.”

“Not wanting to see my father get a bullet between the eyes isn’t necessarily a personal ambition,” Kael argued. “It’s more of a necessity.”

“You have to let go of that,” Adair said quietly with a shake of his head. “You’re not in control of what I do. If I wanted to back out of this conflict, I would. At any point in time, I could throw up my hands and say, ‘I’m just a man from Bastul. This isn’t my fight.’ But I’m here because something needs to be done. And that goes for everyone in that room up there. These people were already putting their lives on the line before you set foot into this world. They all have loved ones, and they’ve all made peace with the fact that they might have to make the ultimate sacrifice someday. That’s their choice. Stop trying to protect them and focus on what needs to be done.”

Kael’s eyes were beginning to tear up, but his expression remained steady. “When I read that report at the Temple, all I could think was—”

“That’s not your responsibility,” Adair interrupted. “Kael, you’re carrying a burden that isn’t yours. I know you want to put our family back together, but the fact that we’ve been separated is my failure, not yours. My stupid curiosity affected all of us. I tore our family apart, not you. And if anyone is responsible for putting it back together again, it’s me.”

Kael reached up and massaged his closed eyes.

“Kael, your desire to protect everyone is admirable. It’s a quality of great leadership. Orud’s finest emperors placed a high value on the lives of their soldiers and citizens, but not to the point of overriding the will of those people. When there was a goal worthy of the Empire as a whole, its greatest leaders set aside their personal desires and invited others to follow them as they pursued it, knowing that there would be casualties along the way. They did this because they knew that if the goal was achieved, the potential good that could come from it would outweigh the cost.”

Kael’s eyes were still closed, but he nodded in acknowledgement.

Adair wanted to say more, but he realized his other thoughts were just different ways of saying what had already been said. So he kept quiet and listened to the sound of distant vehicle traffic while the snow continued to fall. Patches of the paved alley were beginning to turn white. Water dripped from the corners of the hotel’s roof, but the melting snow wouldn’t be able to drain away as fast as what was falling.

“It’s getting cold,” Adair said, breaking several minutes of silence.

“Yeah,” Kael mumbled, scuffing the toe of his boot across his own footprints on the pavement.

“I think they have some tea in the lobby. It’s probably terrible,” Adair said.

Kael smiled.

“You want a cup?”

Kael looked up. “Sure.”

C HAPTER 3

STERLITAMAK, REPUBLIC OF BASHKORTOSTAN, RUSSIA

It had been a long night for Kael, but a productive one. After getting a few hours of sleep, he showered, and then used the phone in the lobby to make contact with Kokabiel’s security detail. A few minutes later, as he came along the hallway toward Helmsley’s room, he could smell food and hear muffled voices coming through the thin walls. He tapped on the door and saw the peephole darken before Greer pulled the door open. Everyone was there. As he walked in, he noticed that all the furniture had been pushed against the walls. The mosaic of papers that had covered the corner of the room yesterday had been reduced to just a handful that were arranged in an inverse pyramid shape in the middle of the floor.

“Grab some breakfast,” Helmsley said, motioning to the table. “We need to make some progress today.”

“I called Kokabiel’s security team a few minutes ago,” Kael said as he walked over and grabbed the Russian equivalent of a doughnut. “They’re picking me up in Ufa this afternoon.”

“Were they suspicious?” Marshall asked.

“Not that I could tell,” Kael replied.

“Well, our deadline is set then,” Helmsley pointed out. “So we’ll need to make more than progress. We need a plan.”

Kael took a bite of the doughnut and looked down at the papers on the floor. Marshall had rewritten her notes in a concise manner. On one page was written Kokabiel: Making Demons. Another read Kokabiel: Upgrades. A third read Kokabiel: Integration Modules. Kael’s eyes scanned the fourth in the group. “What’s Ark?”

“That’s what Martinez has been calling Kokabiel’s server farm and bio library,” Greer replied.

Kael looked up, confused.

“We can explain later,” Helmsley interrupted. “Let’s stay on task.”

Kael nodded. “Okay. This is good. I like how you simplified everything,” he told Marshall, looking down at the other papers that defined their issues with Armaros. “I was thinking about this for most of the night, and I think I have a plan.”

“Let’s hear it,” Marshall said.

Kael bent down and started reorganizing her papers. “Kokabiel’s three manufacturing facilities are in Antarctica,” he said, moving those pieces away from the rest. “His ark is in Switzerland,” he said, sliding that away also.

Helmsley came forward a few steps to get a better look.

“In all these cases, we have information and physical property that must be destroyed. And since we can’t do that before I kill Armaros, it has to be done after, or simultaneously with all the other tasks.”

Greer leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he watched what Kael was doing.

“For Armaros, we know that I have to capture him and he has to be taken by surprise, which means it can’t involve going through his guards.”

“Yes?” Helmsley said slowly.

Kael looked up at him. “You said it yesterday. He has to want to leave his guards behind. He has to think he’s doing something very important, and very personal.”

“Okay. How do we get him to think that?” Helmsley replied.

Kael glanced at his father, who was sitting in the corner of the room.

“What?” Adair replied.

“I’ll get to that in a minute,” Kael said, looking back to the rest of the group. “But let’s finish stating the objectives. I have to draw Armaros away and seize him. Then we simultaneously destroy his guards along with all of Kokabiel’s information and equipment. Then I steal Armaros’ memory before we get rid of him.”

“And we use that knowledge to destroy his operations,” Marshall stated.

“Piece of cake,” Martinez said.

Everyone laughed, and the tension in the room dissipated for a brief moment before turning serious again.

Kael stood up. “The first step is that I need to keep impersonating Kokabiel. Armaros can’t have any reason to think that something is wrong. All the operations on both their ends will continue to move ahead as normal, and that will buy some time for all of you to get everything set up.”

Adair smiled and rose from his chair.

“Wait,” Thompson said. “This isn’t a quick diversion. You’re talking about going undercover? How can you even do that?”

Kael turned to his friend. “All of Kokabiel’s security protocols were set up to operate independently of the physical form he wore. There aren’t any fingerprint authorizations or retinal scans. He wanted complete freedom to take whatever form might be necessary without losing access to anything. All of his personal assets are controlled by memorized codes that he changes on a frequent basis.”

“That’s pretty low-tech for such a high-tech guy,” Martinez observed.

Kael was about to explain the artificially intelligent code that ran Kokabiel’s security systems when Thompson kept pushing his line of thinking. “But you said Armaros handles all the security. Won’t they know something is wrong as soon as they see you this afternoon?”

Kael smiled. “That’s the beauty of it. Even though Armaros and Kokabiel have been coordinating on projects, there’s always been tension between them. Kokabiel would never give Armaros too much control over him or allow the security to impede him in any way. Armaros’ soldiers only know that they’re protecting an important person and moving him from place to place. The fact that the face changes periodically isn’t an issue, even when they transport to the same handful of locations. And the guards are rotated out on a monthly basis, so none of them have the opportunity to form any opinions about the person they’re protecting.”

Adair was smiling.

“Are you going to be surrounded by those super-soldiers?” Thompson asked.

“No. Armaros reserves them for himself and special occasions. Kokabiel wouldn’t allow it anyway. My guards will be human. Highly trained, but human.”

Thompson looked relieved.

“When I break my cover to confront Armaros,” Kael continued, “it has to be quick, or he’ll see it coming. So, I’ll have to stay undercover until the last second. It will work best if Armaros and I are in close proximity to each other when that time comes.”

“Sounds like you have something in mind,” Helmsley said.

“I do. The integration of the modules with Armaros’ weapon systems requires a testing phase, the first of which will begin next spring at the equinox. Kokabiel is supposed to be there to oversee the testing. Normally, Armaros would never be in the same place for security reasons. But now that Null is supposedly destroyed, I think we can get Armaros to believe that it’s critical for him to be there.”

“Good,” Marshall said, writing another note. “Now we have a target date for our operation.”

“But how do we make him think that?” Helmsley asked.

Kael smiled before laying out the rest of his plan.

THE ROYAL PALACE

ORUD

Saba waited for the guards to pull their spears back before he pushed through the door into the dining hall. The evening meal had already been cleared from the table, and the room was empty of guests and servants alike. The balcony doors were open, and Maeryn was standing at a railing that overlooked the palace grounds and the canal that lay to the south beyond the palace walls.

“Your Majesty?” he said quietly.

She turned. The look of concern on her face was likely related to the parchment in her hand. “I just received this urgent message from Dacien.”

Saba stepped out onto the balcony and accepted the parchment, looking down at the ink scrawled across the page.

One scout confirmed. More unknown. Prepare for invasion.

“Oh my,” he replied, looking up again.

“Apparently, he sent another message to Leoran to have them send as many infantry to Bastul as they could spare.”

“So you were right,” Saba breathed, leaning forward on the railing.

Maeryn’s eyes were as distant as the horizon on which they were focused. “Dacien’s note is brief, but telling. Whatever he found must have been troubling, beyond the obvious.”

“Perhaps he just wants to be prepared,” Saba offered, handing the parchment back to her.

Maeryn turned. The way her lips were pressed tightly together said that she disagreed. “I must send messages out at first light to each of the major cities.”

“What will you tell them?” Saba asked.

“The truth, or the part of it that will make sense to them. Invasion is imminent. The enemy’s capabilities are a mystery. They should have some warning at least, whatever they decide to do with it. I suspect some will stay where they are. Fortify their defenses. Of course, I’ll extend an open invitation for them to come here, but Orud is no guarantee of safety either.”

“It will be better than what they can do on their own,” Saba replied.

“I suppose.”

“I regret that I didn’t consider the risk of invasion until you mentioned it,” Saba said. “Ezekiyel is behind this; I’m sure of it now.”

“He was the one who crafted the portal?” Maeryn asked.

“Yes. And the keys.”

“What was he like? What should we expect?”

Saba felt his eyebrows rise. “I can’t say for certain, of course. It’s been too long. But I do remember that he was the most talented Shaper of all the Wandering Stars. He was highly regarded among the other Myndarym before he abandoned the Eternal realm.”

“And afterward?” Maeryn asked. “Was he a tyrant? Did he seek to rule over the others?”

“No. His work always consumed his mind. He was typically found supporting the efforts of others. Or, more accurately, the others saw his value and sought to include his work in their plans.”

Maeryn nodded. “Then it may not be him we’re dealing with. For all we know, the scout might have come from the second world where Kael is.”

Saba considered the statement. “Dacien’s note mentions a scout, but none of the Myndarym would give their keys away for any reason. Only Ezekiyel has the wisdom to devise another method for opening the portal, and he inhabits the third world. I suppose the scout could have come from any one of the four Myndarym there, but I’m certain that Ezekiyel is involved somehow.”

“I wish we had more information. I’m not even sure how to prepare,” Maeryn replied.

“As I told Kael before he left, these Myndarym have had thousands of years of unrestrained rule. Look at what Rameel was able to accomplish in this world, and all of it from a distance while working through Magnus. Regardless of who is responsible for sending this scout, I have to assume that we are vastly outmatched. To prepare for invasion must mean something drastic.”

Maeryn turned and locked eyes with Saba.

“I could seal up the portal as I did before, with Rameel,” he added. “I could send something inside and then pull back my key before it is able to complete the journey.”

“Doesn’t the portal remain open that way, as it was when Adair fell into it?”

“It remains open on our end, yes, but only for entry. It will accept new objects for passage, but it will hold them until the key is returned and they can complete the journey to one of the other worlds. While it is in this state, nothing can come through.”

“But that means I’ll never see my son or husband again,” Maeryn protested.

“True, but …”

“I may never see them again anyway,” Maeryn finished for him.

Saba pushed himself away from the railing and found his gaze settling on the white stone of the balcony beneath his feet.

“You believe Kael is The Awakened,” Maeryn observed.

“I do.”

“Yet, you seem to have little faith in him.”

“No. I have a great deal of faith in him,” Saba clarified. “But his path is destined to be a difficult one, and there’s nothing in the Prophecy that assures us he will return to us. His work in this world is done, and he’s gone on to the next. While my deepest desire is to see all of you together again, I am also keenly aware that it is not a requirement for him to fulfill his destiny.”

Maeryn shook her head. “I won’t accept that. Just as I believe he will accomplish his goal in the next world, I also believe he will come back. And he’s going to bring my husband along with him. I will see them both again.”

Saba nodded and turned to look out over the palace grounds. The sun was now touching the horizon to the west, and the sculpted trees cast long shadows across the groomed lawns. “I could try to send Kael a message,” he offered, finally.

“How?”

“It would be … like a scream,” Saba replied. “But it happens in the mind. I don’t know if I’m capable of doing it, but Rameel did it just before he died. He sent a warning to the rest of the Wandering Stars that The Awakened had come. Kael and I both heard it, and I’m positive that the others did as well. Perhaps I could warn him that we’re closing the portal. Give him a deadline.”

“No. His enemies would also hear the message, and it might jeopardize his efforts there.”

“True,” Saba admitted. “I didn’t say it was a good option, but I’m not certain that we can find one of those. I’m just trying to think of any—”

“There is another way,” Maeryn interjected.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she continued, turning now to face him squarely. “You were a warrior once.”

Saba opened his mouth to reply but found that there were too many objections to be uttered all at once. He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Maeryn, I fought for so many years. More years than you have yet lived, or ever will. I saw everyone I ever loved die. And for every modest success that I found, my failures multiplied and the situation only worsened. I thought I was The Awakened, and it wasn’t until I reached the end of myself—until I finally gave up on that idea—that I realized there was another plan being worked out. It was somebody else’s destiny to fight the Myndarym.”

“I’m not asking you to be The Awakened,” Maeryn argued. “I’m just asking you to do what you can.”

“I gave up fighting a long time ago,” Saba replied.

“Not entirely. When Kael broke into this palace to rescue Dacien, you came after him. If it wasn’t for you, Magnus would have killed him. He wouldn’t have made it out of here on his own.”

Saba exhaled slowly, hoping to relieve some of his mounting frustration.

“Don’t think of it as interfering with Kael’s destiny,” Maeryn pushed. “Think of it as supporting it. That’s what you were doing when you rescued him from Magnus. That’s all I’m asking you to do now.”

“But this doesn’t directly involve Kael. We’re discussing a side effect of the Myndarym, and I’ve already seen what my involvement produces.”

Maeryn slid her hand across the railing until it came to rest on his. Her skin was warm, an indication of the passion she felt on this matter. “Our world is going to be invaded. You’ve already told me that whatever army comes through the portal is beyond our ability to resist. And here I see you standing before me, a former warrior of the Eternal realm. I think of the stories we’ve heard of Kael’s dark sword and what he was able to do with it. And I’m reminded of the fact that you have a scepter of the same origin. In my eyes, it appears that there is indeed a plan being worked out. You are part of it. Go to Bastul. Help Dacien. Do whatever must be done.”

Saba pulled his hand out from beneath Maeryn’s grasp and immediately felt the cool air of early winter on his skin. Tears were forming in his eyes. “I’m afraid of what I might become if I …” he whispered, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know,” she replied. “I’m afraid of what will happen if you don’t.”

C HAPTER 4

OSLO, NORWAY

The private helicopter came to a gentle landing on the rooftop helipad of Kokabiel’s home. The snow had been removed from the square of concrete, but every other horizontal surface had several centimeters of fresh snow. Kael stepped out of the chopper and nearly lost his breath at the humid chill in the air. Black silhouettes of security personnel spilled out behind him and formed a perimeter. Kael was suddenly aware of how far away he was from his friends. He was literally surrounded by enemies, whether they realized it or not.

Night had descended, but the city lights to the southwest and the surrounding white terrain preserved the illusion of twilight. Moving quickly toward the glass doors of a wooden structure sprouting from the side of a mountain, Kael stole a glance at Lake Maridalsvannet to the northwest, acutely conscious that the novelty of its sight would have worn off for Kokabiel. The double doors swung inward, giving way to concrete steps that worked their way down to the main level in short flights and at random angles. The sound of Kael’s footsteps echoed through the large interior that was comprised of the hard surfaces of modern architecture. Kokabiel’s memories were guiding him now as he moved swiftly across the living area toward a wide hall on the other side of the kitchen.

“I’m not to be disturbed tonight,” he told the well-dressed guard standing along the wall.

“Yes, sir,” the man replied.

The first of the recessed lights illuminating the hallway was situated overhead. But every meter, another light was positioned farther down the wall, creating a spiraling pattern that surrounded the passage. By the time Kael reached the end of the hallway, he stood on a circular plate of glass with light streaming upward around him. Kokabiel had evidently enjoyed challenging assumptions in more than just biology. Doing his best to ignore the observations that kept leaping into his mind, Kael reached out to the touchscreen beside the polished wooden door and entered a ten-digit code. The display pulsed with green light before a heavy click sounded. The door, which had no handle, opened with a magnetic hum.

Kael stepped into Kokabiel’s living quarters, feeling the anxiety of a thief until the moment the door closed behind him. A sense of relief washed over him and he let out the breath he’d been holding. In the privacy of this quiet place, he was reminded that this was a new type of conflict for him. It was a strategic move to win the war, but it wasn’t physical. It was one of quiet deception, a battle of the mind. He’d only been playing the part for approximately twenty-four hours and he hated it already.

I’d rather have a sword in my hand and an enemy before me.

The sound of running water was the first thing to interrupt his thoughts. At the center of the room, which was larger than many people’s homes, a cascade of water was bubbling from an arrangement of black boulders and running into a circular pool. A column of interwoven vines rose from its center and stretched to the ceiling ten meters above, snaking outward in all directions to form a canopy. Blocks of white glass spiraled outward from the column of vegetation, appearing to float in midair as they formed the staircase that led up to the bedroom on the next level. The fragrance of exotic flowers filled the space, though there weren’t any flowers to be seen. Kael walked forward and veered around the right side of the staircase, heading for the back of the room where Kokabiel’s private art collection was on display.

What he sought was standing on a pedestal beneath a brilliant column of light—an orb of white marble larger than a man’s head. It stood a meter off the ground and would have appeared unremarkable to anyone else, perhaps passing for the subject of an art student’s lesson on three-dimensional form and lighting. Kael reached out with his sense and felt the void within it as well as the microscopic crack running through its center. He held the idea of a unique shape in his mind and allowed his sense to conform to it, creating a telekinetic key of sorts. As the key passed through the white marble, the sculpture split into two hemispheres that rotated away from each other.

Kael allowed the idea of the key to dissipate into the air, as it was no longer needed. His attention was now focused on the dark, crystalline sphere hovering where the marble one used to be. It was no larger than a golf ball, but breathtaking to observe. The column of light cutting down from the ceiling reflected off millions of tiny facets inside the object, scattering rainbows of light in every direction. Its surface was perfectly smooth, but inside the dark material, it appeared as if it had been shattered into many pieces.

Kael reached out and took hold of Kokabiel’s key to the portal. It had the same feel as the sword that Armaros had stolen from him—lightweight, yet more substantial than the heaviest weapon from either of the two worlds he’d lived in so far.

Step one complete.

He placed the sphere back over the pedestal and let go, feeling it hover away from his hand. The hemispheres of white marble converged around it again until it was nothing more than a boring piece of art on display.

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION (EOD)

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

The holding room was plain, just as it would have been at any other Null facility. Gray walls. No windows. Dim fluorescent lighting. Marshall sat in the only chair in the room, unconsciously holding her arm where the technician had drawn her blood. It was an extra precaution, but an understandable one. The fingerprints and retinal scans were standard security procedures but could be falsified with sophisticated technology. The blood testing was a sure guarantee. Helmsley leaned against the steel table, looking at his watch and estimating how long it would take before their identities were verified.

The latch clicked before the door swung open.

Thirty-six minutes, Helmsley noted.

“Please come with us,” the security leader said.

Marshall rose from her chair, and Helmsley followed her into the hallway. Armed security guards marched in front and behind them as they wound through long, concrete corridors. Helmsley wondered if the escort was standard, or the result of EOD being in lockdown after Armaros’ attacks throughout the western and central divisions. Elevators took them up several floors where the surroundings were drastically different. The steel doors they had seen below, with their black, stenciled Cyrillic characters, were replaced by lacquered mahogany doors with engraved, metallic plates. Black and white architectural photographs lined the hallways, and there was even the occasional potted plant resting on the slate flooring.

The armed escort led Null’s two remaining directors into a spacious conference room where a tall, thin man with graying hair was waiting.

“Mr. Helmsley and Ms. Marshall, I apologize for keeping you both waiting.”

The man’s English was impeccable, and Helmsley thought he looked familiar.

“I’m Deputy Director—”

“Mr. Tokar,” Marshall interrupted, quicker to make the connection than Helmsley. She stepped forward to offer her hand. “Ruslan, isn’t it? We met a few years ago during the Beirut security leak summit.”

The deputy director smiled. “You have an impressive memory.”

Helmsley stepped forward and shook Ruslan’s hand. “I assume you’ve heard about Rugov?”

Ruslan nodded and silently motioned for them to sit. “I have a team bringing his body back as we speak.”

“He was my friend, and his death was a great loss to our organization,” Helmsley offered. “As you can imagine, Command isn’t taking this lightly. Despite the unbearable costs incurred by our diversion, it worked. Armaros believes that he’s won, and Command is already making use of that belief.”

Ruslan’s expression tightened, and his eyes lit up with a vengeful glare.

“We have multiple operations underway,” Helmsley continued. “I have teams in the field now, but their access to equipment and transportation is limited. I need to meet with your head of field operations to start running the OPs from here.”

“And I need to speak with your head of intelligence,” Marshall added. “COMMs have to be established, and we need to discuss which resources we can bring out of hiding.”

Ruslan was smiling now. “Neither of them is on-site, but they can be here in less than forty-five minutes. I’ll have them meet us in the command room.”

“Good,” Helmsley replied. “Before they get here, can you have someone run a search on your resource database and cross-reference it with your facility locations map? I want to know what you have for Arctic tactical gear. And we’ll need diving equipment as well.”

Ruslan nodded, reaching for the intercom. His hand hovered over the button, but he hesitated.

Marshall glanced at Helmsley, but her face was void of any perceptible message.

“Thank you for this,” Ruslan said finally. “Everyone has been very nervous since the lockdown. And when we heard about Mr. Rugov …” The deputy director’s unfinished statement hung in the air.

“No. Thank you, Ruslan,” Marshall offered. “It is a relief to get back to work. None of us enjoy simply hiding from the enemy. And if these OPs go as planned, they will constitute the last battle in a very long war. We’re going to win this one. With your help, we’re going to win.”

Ruslan Tokar nodded. “You’ve both traveled very far. Have you eaten?”

“Not much,” Helmsley replied.

“I’ll have some food brought up to the command room. And some strong coffee,” he added before tapping the intercom button.

Marshall turned to Helmsley and smiled.

SARPSBORG, NORWAY

“There it is,” Adair replied, looking up from the map in his hands and pointing through the windshield to the left.

Sean pulled the rental car off the road and into a parking lot whose pavement looked like it was losing its battle with the elements. The tires made a growling noise as they left the blacktop and crossed a dirt and gravel section farther away from the building. Pulling up beside a green dumpster, Sean put the car into park and left the engine running.

Adair rubbed his hands together then repositioned the heater vent to point at himself. It wasn’t doing much to thaw the ice on the passenger window anyway. “How much time do we have?”

Sean glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “They open in about two minutes.”

Adair blew into his cupped hands and rubbed them together again, before reaching down to grab a hat and sunglasses from the floorboard.

“How did Ryan go down?” Sean asked.

The question came from nowhere and took Adair completely by surprise. For the past couple hours, they’d been going over mission details and making small talk about this country that was foreign to them both. “Isn’t it better if you don’t know the details?” Adair finally replied.

“I thought so. But after what happened to Nikolaus, I can’t stop thinking about it.” Sean ducked slightly to look out the windshield. “Did my brother go down fighting?”

“Yes,” Adair answered, sliding the hat over his head and pulling it into place. “He knew it was coming. That’s why he wanted to drop you off. You were unconscious, so there was no point in bringing you along. After we hid you in the rocks, Ryan gave me the GPS and a key and told me to make my way to a safe house in Albuquerque if we got separated. That’s when a sniper hit the truck and stopped the engine. Then a helicopter flew over. Ryan took his rifle and told me get down and not to fight back if they came for me.”

“Was it those super-soldiers?” Sean asked.

“No. They were normal. They looked like tactical teams.”

“Did Ryan take out any of them?”

“I’m not sure. I heard him shooting and they fired back. When they dragged me out of the truck, he was already dead. They put a bag over my head, so I didn’t see much of anything after that.”

Sean nodded and glanced at the clock again. “Okay. Time to go.” He pulled on the handle and began opening the door.

“Sean,” Adair said, “I’m truly sorry.”

The young man paused for a moment and finally turned to make eye contact. “I know you feel responsible. It’s not your fault.”

Adair wanted to say something else, but he suddenly felt verbally disoriented.

“If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. Ryan died doing what soldiers do,” Sean added. He stepped out of the car and shut the door.

The resulting silence seemed to put an exclamation point on the conversation. Adair remained in the passenger seat for another few seconds, watching through the driver’s side window as Sean walked toward the brick building. With the ice crystals around the perimeter of the window distorting Sean’s image, Adair realized how terrible it was for someone so young to be forced into such a survival mentality. But what else could be expected of a young man who’d lost everyone in his family? Adair slipped on the hat and sunglasses, hoping they would obscure the metallic receptacles embedded into his temples. Then he opened the door to catch up with Sean.

The inside of the costume store was far gaudier than its boring exterior, and was unlike anything that Adair had ever seen. There were jackets, pants, tunics, sandals, helmets, and even undergarments of every imaginable shape, covering the walls and ceilings. Racks of clothing, if it could be called such, displayed the entire spectrum of colors that could possibly exist on earth. Adair was instantly overwhelmed.

“Velkommen,” a voice called from across the room. A man began weaving his way through the racks of clothing toward them. He spoke a long string of foreign words, and Adair couldn’t help but be distracted by the way the shiny object sticking through his tongue made a clanking noise against his teeth.

“Uh …” Sean hesitated. “Star Wars?”

The man spoke again and pointed toward the back of the store.

“Okay. Thanks,” Sean said, heading in that direction.

“Ja, Star Wars,” the man added.

Adair turned in time to see the man tap the side of his own face, near his temple. He smiled knowingly at Adair, then turned and walked away.

Adair removed the useless sunglasses from his face and followed after Sean. When he caught up with him, Sean was moving quickly from rack to rack, flicking through suits of white armor and other clothing that was made to look like some of the medical equipment that Adair had been hooked up to not that long ago. None of the armor appeared robust enough to withstand actual battle.

“Here we go,” Sean said, pulling out a brown cloak with a hood. “It’s not wool, but it looks close enough.”

Adair felt the fabric and nodded. The cloak was too large, but it could be trimmed down to make what they needed. As Adair took the cloak and gathered it into a bundle, Sean’s voice cut across the room.

“Gladiator?”

The proprietor behind the counter shook his head.

“Uh … Roman?” Sean tried again.

The man nodded this time and pointed to a rack in the middle of the room.

Ten minutes later, Adair followed Sean back to their car with a bag of clothing that would pass for an Orudan style if one didn’t look closely enough, or if one was unfamiliar with the real thing.

Sean opened the rear door, and Adair set the bag on the backseat next to a long, gnarled tree branch and two cans of spray-paint—one flat black and the other a glossy metallic.

C HAPTER 5

OSLO, NORWAY

Kael sat down in the most comfortable chair he’d ever felt, and his hands came to rest naturally on the interface controls of each arm support. Soft, ambient light filled the room from the panels tiling the walls to the left and right. There was enough illumination to provide a sufficient work atmosphere, but it was directed in such a way that it wouldn’t interfere with the eye’s ability to receive the other source of light in the room, light that was more rare to witness. In the air in front of him, a holographic display created a virtual programming environment of a perfectly flat plane stretching into eternity. As his eyes scanned the illusion of a horizon, sensors detected the movement and instantly produced an assortment of programming tools—modular blocks of code represented by three-dimensional objects. It was a toolbox that couldn’t be found on any other system in the world because it was Kokabiel’s original design. At once, Kael experienced Kokabiel’s familiarity with the system and the awe that Matthews would have felt.

Where to start?

He took a deep breath and stared out toward the horizon, the virtual equivalent of a blank page. He had four programs to write. Each one was unique, but there were certain functions that would overlap with one another.

The server farm in Switzerland was the largest bank of information to be dealt with, and the fact that Armaros didn’t know of its existence simplified how it was secured. Not that the security was simplistic by any means. In fact, it was the most sophisticated and elegant coding on the planet, bordering on artificial intelligence, but the lack of integration with Armaros’ physical security protocols made it the most straightforward system to dismantle.

Kael searched through Kokabiel’s memory until he found the weeks of the Shaper’s life in which he had created the system’s virtual architecture. Not only did it control the vast amounts of information that Kokabiel had developed and accumulated over thousands of years, it also handled the hardware and environmental systems needed to sustain the biological samples stored there. The component of its intelligence that was dedicated to security was a complicated beast and wouldn’t respond in a systematic way to intrusion. Kokabiel had designed it to fight back like a powerful and unpredictable animal. It was the first thing that would have to be dealt with.

Okay. Where are you?

Kael looked up and a toolbox appeared. With a slight movement of his right index finger, he grabbed one of the icons and dragged it to the center of his vision. Once there, it exploded into millions of pieces that suddenly came to a stop as if frozen in space. One of the pieces was significantly larger than the others, and Kael zoomed in on it with a forward movement of his right hand. Suddenly, all the other pieces fled from view and there was only one, so large that it filled the space before him.

There you are.

It was an intricate, three-dimensional tapestry woven from threads of a foreign language. Symbols stretched in all directions, linked together in orderly columns and rows as if they were a cityscape and Kael were flying over it all in a helicopter. Beneath the surface of the alien structures, disks of symbols rotated into each other, pyramids stood upon their apexes and split into stars, and helixes danced around their pairs. Each structure performed a function and shared information with its neighbor in an incomprehensible symphony of light, a city with a life of its own. As he looked at the artistry of it through Kokabiel’s understanding, and marveled at its beauty through Matthews’ knowledge, he was struck by the similarity of this experience to the first time he discovered the inner workings of his own body after Magnus almost killed him.

This was a creature of another kind, one made of information, existing within the physical materials that constituted Kokabiel’s home network. The only difference between this one and the one controlling the system in Switzerland was that its initialization function hadn’t yet been activated.

You work for me now, Kael thought. I have a few tasks that are better suited to your abilities. Kael’s fingers moved across the controls, and pieces of the program in front of him began to collapse and change shape.

THE CITY OF BASTUL

Dacien followed Lieutenant Oranius across the mansion rooftop, their sandals making a crunching noise on the gravel as they circled around to the south and stopped before the edge.

“Here it is, General,” Oranius said, laying his hand on a metal and wood contraption secured to the rooftop and protruding through a gap in the low outer wall, which revealed the courtyard below.

Dacien inspected the bolt-thrower carefully, noting its condition. The bundles of twisted rope that served as the propulsion were fraying from lack of maintenance. But the machine was otherwise in good condition. “We had five, originally.”

“Yes, General. The two protecting the docks were burned in the Syvaku raid. The one at the courtyard entrance fell, along with the section of wall that collapsed there. The last is still mounted on the north side of the roof.”

“Do you think the one at the entrance could be made operational?” Dacien asked.

“I don’t know its condition, but I’ll have my men dig it out of the rubble at once.”

“Excellent,” Dacien replied. “Let’s get these two removed and loaded on the ship.”

“Yes, General,” Oranius replied before leaving to retrieve some of his men and tools.

Having three bolt-throwers was less than ideal, but it would at least give him some coverage inside the main chamber* of the outpost as well as the open shaft above it. If he ended up with only two weapons, he’d have to position them to split the risk. There was no way to tell from which of the two directions an attack might come.

After interviewing the remaining guards at the outpost, it seemed that only one scout had come through the portal. In addition to the tracks through the sand inside the main chamber, several men reported hearing a loud noise race across the sky that night. One who was stationed at the docks even claimed to have seen a column of fire rising through the air above the peak of the submerged mountain. If it was indeed a scout, then it would have to return to the portal to leave this world and deliver its findings to its commander. That meant Dacien could predict where it would eventually be and plan accordingly.

The other threat was the possibility of something else arriving through the portal—another scout, perhaps. Two directions of attack. A bolt thrower for each. A third weapon would provide more assurance.

A loud, squealing noise ripped through the air, and Dacien turned to look down into the courtyard. Three soldiers were pulling down the twisted iron gates that used to close off the mansion courtyard from the road that wound its way down to the city center. Throughout the city, Oranius’ men were scavenging for metal and loading everything on the ships at anchor in the bay. The two local blacksmiths had already been set up with forges in one of the cargo bays at the outpost, working as quickly as possible to create an iron cage to go over the top of the portal.

It was the only method that Dacien could think of to control what passed through the portal. There would be enough room for someone like Kael to arrive. But if it was another scout, or an invading army, Dacien could identify it quickly and respond with force. The cage would also serve to prevent the scout already here from leaving this world and delivering its findings. With any luck, the physical barriers that were being erected at Orud’s newest outpost would give Dacien the upper hand when it came time for battle.

The distant sound of thunder rolled across the sky and Dacien looked up. A dark bank of clouds was gathering to the north, but overhead the sky was an empty expanse of blue. Nothing was moving. There weren’t even birds to see. Dacien’s heart was beating rapidly. Each strong pulse could be felt in his ears, as when he went to war. The strength of his body’s reaction was an indicator of the threat he perceived at an instinctual level. He kept his eyes on the clouds for a long moment, hoping that it was only thunder he had heard, until he flinched at the sudden noise of Oranius and his men returning for the bolt-thrower.

“The first pins will come off easily enough,” Oranius explained, “but you’ll have to give us some leverage to loosen the plates along the bottom.”

One of the men next to him was carrying a crowbar and nodding. The other soldier had a wrench in his hand and was walking quickly to catch up.

Dacien swallowed hard before calling out to the men. “I’ll give you a hand with this one.”

“That would be much appreciated, General,” Oranius replied as he and his men arrived at the edge of the rooftop. “But Princess Aelia was downstairs just now. She didn’t say anything to my men, but she appeared concerned by all the activity.”

Dacien nodded and stepped away from the bolt thrower. “Thank you. I’ll go speak with her.” He took a few steps in the direction from which they had just come before he stopped and turned. “Lieutenant. Move as quickly as you can. We’re very much exposed until we have these installed at the outpost.”

Oranius glanced up at the sky where Dacien’s eyes had unconsciously gone. His gaze came slowly back to Dacien before he replied. “Of course, General. We should have this aboard within the hour.”

“Very good,” Dacien replied.

C HAPTER 6

OSLO, NORWAY

Kael landed on the wet pavement using his sense to control his momentum. He’d come a quarter mile from Kokabiel’s home, through trees and brush, jumping from place to place—branches, the southern side of boulders, the base of trees—anything that wasn’t covered in snow. He couldn’t afford to leave any tracks.

The road bent sharply in both directions, and there were streetlights every thirty meters, creating small pools of yellow. But the nighttime darkness was pervasive, and there were plenty of places to hide in the heavy vegetation on either side of the road. Kael reached out with his sense and found what he was looking for.

I’m coming down the road to you now.

He jogged along the pavement, hearing Kokabiel’s expensive shoes slapping against the hard surface that was coated with ice and dirt. A bird’s gentle trill floated through the air and reached Kael’s ears, telling him that everything had gone as planned. He slowed to a walk and stepped off the road, slipping through a thin stand of trees where the snow hadn’t yet accumulated.

“It’s a relief to see you’re okay,” Greer whispered through the darkness.

Kael could just make out his and Thompson’s outlines. With his sense, he could feel that they were holding pistols at low ready.

“It’s good to see you too. Did Helmsley and Marshall make it?”

“Yeah,” Greer answered. His breath floated upward in a plume that was slightly more visible than his outline against the trees. “They’re running the OPs from EOD and they’ve already lined up what we need for Antarctica. We fly out tonight.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Kael admitted. “Where’s Martinez?”

“He’s back at the hotel with your dad and Sean. Their flight leaves tomorrow morning. They’re probably sitting in a hot tub right now while we’re out here freezing.”

Kael smiled, even though they couldn’t have seen it on his face. He’d gone almost two weeks surrounded by enemies, and it felt good just to be standing next to his friends, even if it would only last a moment. “Alright. Here’s the next part,” Kael said, handing Greer the briefcase that he’d been carrying. “There are forty-two high-capacity storage cards in here. They contain access codes, viruses, everything you’ll need. They’re all labeled. Number one has step-by-step instructions for all the operations, and it refers to the rest by number. Just start there, and it will explain how to divide everything between the teams.”

“Okay,” Greer said, the outline of his head dropping as he presumably glanced down at the case. “You created all this from scratch?”

“Not all of it,” Kael admitted. “But I have been working pretty hard. I finished yesterday and was finally able to get a full night’s sleep. Today was just double-checking the details.”

“My turn,” Thompson said, holstering his pistol. He stepped forward and removed his backpack. Kael could feel him untying a strap on its side, and a moment later Thompson handed him what felt like a gnarled tree branch.

Kael leaned it against a tree and began to strip off his clothes.

Thompson reached inside the backpack and began handing pieces of clothing to Kael, one at a time.

Kael dressed as quickly as he could in the loincloth and tunic, anxious to get something over his skin. After fastening a leather belt around his waist, he accepted a cloak from Thompson and slung in over his shoulders.

“And to complete the ensemble …” Thompson said, pulling Roman-style sandals out of the backpack and handing them to Kael.

As Kael bent down to lace them up his legs, Greer grabbed the pile of expensive clothing that Kael had shed and gave it to Thompson to be stuffed into the backpack.

“I think that’s it. How do I look?” Kael said, standing up and holding his arms out.

“Like a bulkier silhouette,” Thompson replied.

Greer laughed under his breath.

Kael smiled, then took a deep breath.

“We’ll see you in a few months,” Greer said quietly.

“Take care of yourselves,” Kael replied. He grabbed the branch leaning against the tree and turned back toward the road. He didn’t want to dwell on the thought that he might never see them again. So he shoved the idea aside and reached out with his sense to check for approaching traffic. There was nothing moving for kilometers around in this sleepy residential area.

Greer and Thompson stepped out into the dim light beside the road.

Kael nodded to them and started running back up the road, using his sense to propel him quicker than anyone should have been able to move. As he neared Kokabiel’s home, he veered off the road and began moving through trees, working his way toward higher ground where someone without equipment might conduct surveillance. This time, he wasn’t concerned about leaving tracks.

Something caught the guard’s attention. He stopped walking and strained his ears. For almost a minute, he did nothing but listen. There had been a sound that didn’t quite fit with the rest of the night noises. The wind through the trees. The rustle of dead leaves. These sounds became normal after a few days on the job. But there had been something else out there, and now it wasn’t moving.

“This is perimeter three,” he said into his shoulder-mounted radio. “I’m twenty meters north of the driveway gate. I heard something in the trees on the hill.”

“Copy that, three. This is base one. The cameras are clear. Sensors aren’t picking up anything.”

“Copy that. I’m going to check it out,” he replied.

“Perimeter six here. I’m east of the hilltop and closing in. I’ll be ready in case you scare up something.”

“Perimeter seven, moving west along the driveway. I’ll take the other flank.”

“Copy that. This is three moving out.”

The guard jogged quietly across the paved interior of the estate, slowing to a walk as he entered the heavily forested perimeter. His boots crunched the snow with each step, and the scrape of his uniform across twigs and dried leaves was much louder than he wanted. Then again, he wasn’t the one who needed to be quiet. His weapon was already up and tracking, the selector set to full auto. He covered two thirds of the distance to the top of the hill in a slow creep, but had yet to hear sounds of retreat.

“This is perimeter three. Any movement?” he asked.

“This is six. Negative.”

“Seven. Negative.”

“This is base one. Still nothing on the cameras or sensors.”

“Copy that. Three is moving in with illuminator on.”

“Copy that,” the others all replied.

The guard switched on the LED tube mounted to his rifle and began moving up the hill at a walking pace. His rifle tracked from side to side, scanning the terrain. When he was ten meters from the top, he slowed again and listened. There was nothing. He took a few more steps and panned his rifle to the right. The LED beam passed over something brown that was thicker than the surrounding trees. He quickly doubled back, but it was gone.

A crunch of snow sounded to his left.

He spun, finger on the trigger.

Something slammed hard into his weapon and tore it from his grip. It went spinning through the air, one of its rotations illuminating someone standing in the snow less than a meter away. It was like a flash of lightning, but it was enough to see the man’s arm coming up, his hand extending.

The guard brought his hands up to block his face, but the blow hit his chest and abdomen like a freight train. Before he knew what had happened, he was airborne. A second after that, he felt branches snapping as his back plowed through the trees. Then he wasn’t moving anymore. And he was cold. Someone was shining a light in his face. It was another guard.

How did he get here so fast? I must have passed out.

The intercom beeped.

Kael reached across his desk and pressed the button. “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We need to move you to the panic room,” the head of security explained.

“I beg your pardon?” Kael replied.

“We’ve had an incident and we need you secured immediately.”

Kael breathed a sigh of frustration before closing the intercom. Kokabiel’s mannerisms were becoming easier to fake every day. He stood from his desk and walked across the living quarters, stopping briefly to look in the mirror over the wet bar and make sure he didn’t appear hastily dressed. He tightened the tie at his neck and looked himself up and down before realizing that the skin of his nose and cheeks were still a bit red from the cold air outside. He also noticed the crystal decanter of Cognac sitting next to several other liquors at the bar.

That will do.

He quickly poured himself a glass and proceeded to the door. As soon as it slid open, he locked eyes with the head of security waiting patiently there. “I’m already in a secure room,” he snapped at the man.

“I’m sorry, sir. Will you please come with us?”

Kael followed with a reluctance that he hoped would pass for irritation. Another guard moved into position behind him, and the trio headed back toward the kitchen before turning left through a door and moving down a flight of stairs that were uncharacteristically normal compared to the rest of the mansion.

At the bottom, the guard swiped an access card across a magnetic sensor and a thick, bulletproof door slid open. “After you, sir.”

Kael stepped across the threshold and into a square room that would have been considered luxurious by most standards. Comfortable couches were arranged around a coffee table with a television screen on the wall above it. There was a bed on the opposite side of the room. In the corner was a small kitchen, presumably stocked with food. It was a complete home that could have served as a whole village in some of the places Kael had seen during his travels with Captain Gryllus. But it was far beneath Kokabiel’s standards.

“How long do I have to be down here?” he asked.

“Just until we sweep the estate, sir.”

“What type of incident was this?” he pressed, in a demeaning tone.

“One of my men encountered something in the trees. We don’t know yet if it was an animal or a person.”

Kael had to resist the urge to ask how the man was. He hoped he hadn’t overdone it. After focusing his sense around the painted tree branch he was holding, and using it to smash through the guard’s weapon, he’d had to quickly expand his sense again in order to throw the guard backward. He hoped he had spread it out sufficiently to prevent injury to the man.

“Very well,” he told the guard. “Just be quick about it. I don’t have time for interruptions.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said. “Please excuse me.”

Kael nodded.

The guard turned and stepped through the door. “This is base one. The package is secure,” he said, just before it slid closed.

Kael breathed a sigh of relief before setting himself down on the couch.

~

Nearly an hour later, the door slid open again.

Kael, who had been pacing back and forth across the room, turned to the head of security. “Are you done?”

“Yes, sir. It appears that—”

“Never mind,” Kael said with a dismissive wave as he brushed past the man. “I’m going to speak with your boss now. I’ll get the information from him.”

The man looked worried as Kael turned away and jogged up the steps. As soon as the door to Kokabiel’s living quarters closed behind him, Kael pushed his sense outward and searched the multi-level room, inspecting it for anything that was different from how he left it. When he was satisfied that nothing had changed, he crossed the room, settled himself into the chair at his desk, and picked up the phone.

HONG KONG, CHINA

Armaros stood before the wall of monitors with his arms crossed, reviewing the initial report files from Oslo. The windows of his office overlooking the harbor were electro-chromatically darkened, blocking the first rays of morning light coming over Kowloon. His eyes lingered for a moment on the disorienting video footage taken by a guard as he moved through dense trees and brush at night. The camera kept pointing down at a trail of footprints in the snow, before rising again to show the forest ahead. Every few seconds, the glare from the guard’s light on a snow patch would wash out the image. Armaros glanced right, where a corresponding text file documented the evening’s events.

Entry footprints lead from the road up to the peak of the hill overlooking the estate. The suspect may have been conducting surveillance.

He glanced back at the video footage and saw that the guard who had been following the retreating footprints had now reached the road leaving Kokabiel’s estate. The footage was steadier as the guard walked along the pavement, searching the shoulders of the road for a connecting trail that would give them something to follow. He glanced back at the report.

Perimeter guard number three is en route to the hospital. Initial exam shows abdominal bruising and possible minor rib fractures.

On another screen was a video file of the guard’s exam and interrogation. It was paused, but Armaros could see that the guard was lying on a table with his shirt off. His stomach and chest were red, with undertones of purple.

The phone across the room rang.

Armaros looked at the guard’s bruised body again before walking to his desk. The tracing program running on his computer showed that the call was coming from Stockholm, but Armaros knew it was just part of the encryption on the other end that scrambled the origin. It was Kokabiel.

Armaros picked up the receiver and touched a button. “Yes?”

“I hope there’s a good explanation for this,” Kokabiel snapped. “I’ve been locked in a room for an hour, and I can’t afford to lose working time with our deadline approaching.”

His voice was different from the last time they had spoken, but that was expected. He’d already seen photos of Kokabiel’s latest choice of form. It seemed that he was rather proud of participating in the death of the so-called Awakened and had decided to keep the victim’s appearance as a trophy. “It’s nothing. We’ll have it sorted out within the hour,” Armaros assured him.

“If it’s nothing, then why was I detained?”

“For your own protection,” Armaros shot back. It was typical of his colleague to think so lowly of security. Regardless of how important or complex the task of keeping him safe might be, it was outside of Kokabiel’s realm of interest, and was therefore a distraction.

“I thought you had destroyed the last of our enemies here. Obviously you missed someone. Now, while you consider that, I have real work to do.”

The line went dead and Armaros lowered the receiver. I have destroyed all our enemies in this world! His fingers were reluctant to let go of the handset, wanting to crush the fragile plastic shell and the electronics inside. But that wouldn’t help the situation. Instead, he walked across his office and stood before the wall screens, folding his arms once more. “Play, screen B6,” he enunciated.

The paused video began playing. The guard lay on the table. His breathing was coming in grunts.

“Before that,” another person was saying. “What was your first contact?”

“He came out of nowhere,” the guard replied. “I saw something hit my rifle. I thought it was a stick or a branch, but it wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” the guard answered. He was clearly frustrated by the effort of recalling the events. “It was black, but parts of it sparkled.”

“Sparkled?”

Armaros’ eyes shot sideways to a photo of the man’s rifle. The optics and illuminator had been broken off, which could have been done by anything rigid. But the barrel was caved in on one side and bent at a sharp angle. Whatever had done that to the man’s weapon must have been incredibly strong.

The guard tried to lean to one side and winced at the pain. Apparently, he didn’t feel like repeating himself.

“Okay. What happened next?”

“My illuminator went flying, and I saw someone near me. Just for a second.”

“Was he in tactical gear? What did he look like?”

“No, he looked like a … gladiator.”

“A what?”

“You know. Like a Roman gladiator or something. Sandals. Toga. The whole thing. And he was …” the guard grunted in pain. “Bringing his arm forward. I thought he was about to throw a punch, but he was too far away for that.”

“Did he have a gun?”

“I don’t … No. I’m not sure. I brought my hands up to block and something hit me in the chest. That’s when I went flying. I must have blacked out, because the next thing I remember is—”

The guard’s explanation continued rambling forward, but Armaros wasn’t listening anymore. He’d already heard what he needed. He stepped away from the screens as his mind chewed on the problem, testing the validity of the answer that had suddenly become lodged there.

Could it be? Would he really come here?

Armaros paced across the room.

The scepter could do that, he told himself, thinking of his own key and what he’d done with it in years past.

And throwing the guard like that. That’s his style. He never did like killing humans. But when would he have come through?

Armaros thought through all of the activity at the portal in recent times. Rameel had come through with the flood and the man they’d eventually taken prisoner. Then, The Awakened had come through.

Was that it? Did he come through with The Awakened?

The footage from the attack in Brazil only showed one person arriving, but there was chaos afterward, so it might have been possible.

Could he have slipped through?

After that, the only portal activity had been the shipment from Ezekiyel, but his personal guards were on site to escort the shipment, and they would have noticed if something else had come through.

Or would they?

The head of security in Oslo reported that none of the sensors around the estate had recorded anything. If that was possible, then whoever was out there might also be capable of evading his personal guards. But there was no one in this world capable of that, which pointed at the obvious conclusion that this wasn’t someone from this world.

A smile crept across Armaros’ face.

Sariel!

It made sense. He had always believed so strongly in the prophecy. What would he do if he realized that his fragile human subject had died like all humans were destined to? Would Sariel come for revenge? Or would he reconsider the belief to which he had devoted himself?

Has he taken up the old torch? Does he think he’s The Awakened?

There were so many possibilities. But the realization fit the evidence. Regardless of how his ancient enemy had managed to sneak into this world, Armaros had to admit that life had suddenly taken an intriguing turn.

Finally, something worth my attention. A worthy opponent.

But the second Armaros felt his hope begin to swell, he pulled back. He cautioned himself. Hope could be such a dangerous thing. He’d seen too many enemies perish quickly, gone without the satisfaction that he had hoped they would provide. The burden of ruling this world of squabbling children had grown into a different type of enemy, a monstrous beast that wore down its foes to the point of giving up, leaving them without a desire to fight.

This latest turn of events held the promise of redemption or ruin. If Sariel had, in fact, come to this world, what a glorious battle it could be. The ancient days would live again. Armaros would feel blood on his hands and maybe shed some of his own. The gods would clash while humans cowered in fear. Ragnarök might live again. If it was anyone less than Sariel, the disappointment might crush him, but only if he hoped.

Armaros suddenly found himself in the middle of his office with a clenched fist pressed against his lips. He looked up again at the wall of information. The damaged submachine gun. The bruised guard. The description of the foreign clothing.

How can I not hope? Sariel, if you believe you are the one prophesied to bring an end to all of us, come. I am ready. I have never been more ready in all my days upon this weary earth.

C HAPTER 7

BASTUL OUTPOST

FORMERLY, THE HIGH TEMPLE OF THE KALIEL

Dacien watched from the top of the perimeter wall as one after another of Orud’s ships entered the outpost’s harbor and found a dock.* Red flags bearing the golden insignia of the Empire waved atop masts. To the east, the ocean was dotted with dozens more. It seemed that the Empress had sent half the fleet in response to his message. The soldiers who spilled onto the docks from the first ship began working immediately to tie off the next ship. And the process continued until there were hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers unloading supplies. The soldiers that were already there from Bastul came down from the cargo bays in the mountain and began directing the flow of foot traffic inside.

Dacien worked his way down a set of stairs and followed the boardwalk inside the perimeter wall toward a particular ship that he had been watching closely since he’d first spotted it. As he turned onto the dock to which it was secured, it became difficult to move through the throng of soldiers. Boxes were being carried along gangplanks. Lightweight supplies were being thrown to men on the docks. Carts were employed to transport items to the ferryboats waiting to take them across to the island.*

Dacien spotted Saba coming across a gangplank and rushed to meet him as he stepped onto the wooden decking. “It’s good to have a few extra hands,” he called out.

Saba turned and smiled, but there was a grim look to his eyes that didn’t go away. “The Empress said there would be more coming from Leoran?”

“Yes,” Dacien replied, surprised that Saba’s first words held nothing of their usual levity. “We expect them to arrive in three days’ time.”

Saba nodded, turning to walk to the end of the dock. He glanced left and right along the harbor.

“Are you looking for something?”

Saba turned back suddenly, preoccupied. “What preparations have been made?”

It seemed odd for a general to explain the arrangement of his forces to anyone other than the Empress or another general, but Dacien decided to humor him. “I have smiths working on building a cage around the portal. They should be done by tomorrow. We also have three bolt-throwers from Bastul. One is mounted at the peak of the island, the second on the staircase inside the central shaft, and the third in the main chamber.”

“Hmm. We might have to alter their positions,” Saba replied. “Can you show them to me?”

Dacien didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the man who’d been a friend of Aelia’s family for so many years. He’d listened to Saba tell his stories, and even though he was aware that the bulk of Saba’s life and experiences stretched far backward in time, he had always assumed he knew the man. He thought he understood him. He’d watched the way Saba would council Maeryn, always present, but content to offer advice from behind the throne. Despite the unbelievable things he’d claimed to have done, Dacien had never seen evidence of it in his demeanor. But in this moment, Dacien saw a glimpse of the older man—the one who had fought through unspeakable tragedy. A survivor who was tougher than anyone gave him credit for.

Saba readjusted the position of the long bundle across his back, finally looking at Dacien with expectant eyes. “Show me, please.”

SHENZHEN, GUANGDONG PROVINCE, CHINA

The paved walkway meandered through a central park of groomed lawns and strategically placed trees. The canisters along the path and the ones pointing upward at the trees were the only lights that were kept on at night. The park was the darkest place on the entire campus, but the handful of massive buildings that surrounded it were lit throughout the night. Although Daud had only seen this place in daytime, he recognized it.

Somewhere far away, sirens could be heard responding to what he and his soldiers had just done, but they were alone for now and would remain that way for quite some time. No one knew precisely where they were, or what their objective was, and the search area was incredibly large.

Fifty meters from the nearest building entrance, a stone bridge gently arched over a brook that made a soft gurgling sound. Daud remembered being pushed across this bridge in a wheelchair as they moved him from one building to another during his recovery.

[Spread out and secure the perimeter,] he ordered.

The soldiers behind him left the path, splitting up to surround the building and cover the entrances and exits. Their bodies moved silently as they descended into the shallow ravine and crossed the brook. They didn’t question the reasons behind their orders; that was Daud’s information to know. In fact, they probably didn’t even realize that it wasn’t the first time they’d been here. Before the event, as he was calling it, Daud wouldn’t have realized it either.

The building was a single-story, rectangular structure, just as unremarkable as everything else in the area. He moved casually over the bridge and approached the glass entrance to the building’s main lobby. Through the transparent doors, Daud could see a security guard sitting behind a desk. The guard likely had several computer screens of security-camera footage that he was responsible for monitoring, which would explain why he was raising a phone to his ear. The sight of eighteen large men in foreign combat uniforms walking across the medical campus was not something that he would have witnessed every day. And after what had just happened at the front gate, he would likely have been notified to report anything suspicious as soon as it happened.

In one swift but nonchalant motion, Daud pulled the sidearm from the holster on his leg, calculated the amount of energy needed to penetrate the glass door and the skull of the guard, set the appropriate level of directed energy, and pulled the trigger. A sharp clicking noise sounded. At the same instant, a small hole appeared in the glass and a dark spot appeared at the center of the guard’s forehead. There was no explosion or sonic boom from a projectile that would make a scene. The beam of light wasn’t even in the visible spectrum, so there was little indication that anything had happened beyond the small puff of red that appeared for a brief moment behind the man’s head—blood vaporizing from extreme heat. The guard’s head didn’t even move; there was no bullet with kinetic energy to cause the motion. His body simply crumpled forward on the desk.

Daud strolled up to the doors and stopped outside them, inspecting the lobby as he holstered his weapon. It didn’t look like a medical facility, but that’s what he remembered it to be. He was curious to know what type of conclusions he would draw from this place now that he had a different mindset.

The hole in the glass was smooth, but there were hundreds of tiny heat fractures radiating away from it. Daud put his hand against the door and pushed, adding to the stress. The fractures began to grow until the entire door suddenly became a mosaic of granular chunks. Daud’s hand pushed through, and the tempered glass fell down upon his arm like a waterfall. The safety glass scattered in a million directions, producing a momentary symphony of noises. Four seconds later, the only sound was the crunch of the glass underfoot as he walked into the lobby. With the alarms already disabled and his soldiers covering the perimeter, Daud had all the time he needed to follow where his memories led him.

Wandering through the building, Daud found a handful of empty rooms with hospital beds and monitoring equipment. It was where the soldiers recovered after the so-called surgery, but there weren’t any soldiers. From a directory on the wall, he found the wing of the building where he had lived for many weeks. Most of the rooms there were also empty, but he found one that was occupied. And though it was a strange experience, it didn’t come as a shock when he found himself standing at the foot of a bed, staring at another of Armaros’ lieutenants. He was hooked up to all manner of tubes and wires. They had him sedated, but he was clearly in the recovery stages.

“Nǐ zài zuò shénme?” a voice came from behind.

Even as Daud turned to see the nurse standing at the door, the auditory input had already been translated. What are you doing? His default language output had automatically switched to simplified Chinese.

“Who are you?” she continued.

Daud held a finger up to his lips to quiet the woman. “I’m his commanding officer,” he whispered. “I’ve come to check on his progress.”

The nurse’s eyes quickly looked him up and down. After a pause, she said, “You’re not supposed to be here.” Then she backed away through the door.

Daud followed and stepped out into the hallway.

The woman was running as fast as she could toward the nurses’ station that was illuminated at the far end of the hall.

Daud drew his sidearm and fired a beam through her heart.

She collapsed, her shoes squeaking to a stop on the polished floor. There was hardly any blood.

Daud holstered his weapon, feeling a tinge of remorse that she had forced his hand. He continued down the hall toward the nurses’ station to see if anyone else was working in this wing. When he passed a large set of steel doors, he stopped.

Why is there an elevator in a single-story building?

There was a gray rectangle on the wall next to the doors—a proximity card reader. Daud looked back at the nurse lying on the floor. He scanned her body, but she didn’t have a key card. He looked back at the reader and scanned it, sensing a radio frequency field of 13.56 megahertz and a number of ID codes that would work. Placing his hand against the pad, he used the sensors in his skin to produce a radio signal. The reader beeped and a green LED illuminated. The doors slid open.

Daud stepped inside and found only two buttons arranged vertically on the wall. He pushed the lower one and waited patiently as the doors closed and the elevator descended.

When the doors slid open again, Daud walked out into a corridor similar to the one he had just left. The well-lit passage extended to both sides. Ten meters away on the left, a gurney sat along the wall, but there was nothing else that was notable. Directly across the hall, where the nurses’ station would have been on the floor he had just left, there was a set of double doors with another proximity card reader.

When Daud stepped through the doors, he knew instantly that he had found what he was looking for. The room was hundreds of meters long. And even though the lighting was sparse, he could see that the area was segmented. In the closest section, a glass enclosure contained a man strapped to a bed that was slowly rotating to keep him from being in a single position for too long. Like the soldier upstairs, this one had the same face that Daud had become accustomed to seeing in the mirror every day before taking over the captain’s body.

This was the end of a manufacturing line, the process right before this solider would be taken upstairs to recover from his surgery. But there had never been any surgery. As Daud followed the narrow walkway, defined by painted yellow lines along the floor, his serpentine path led him backward along the timeline of his own existence. He didn’t have to be told. He knew it instinctively.

At the next station, another lieutenant was suspended in a fluidic chamber. His naked body had electrodes attached to the skin in various places, the majority of which were concentrated at his head. He twitched every few seconds as an electrical impulse was sent through his limbs, calibrating the motor cortex of his brain to the muscle contractions that were occurring.

Daud continued walking, slowly making his way backward through the manufacturing processes. The farther he went, the stranger the experience became. At some point, he realized that his face felt hot. He reached up to touch it with his fingers, wondering at the cause. On occasion, he had felt a similar reaction on the battlefield. It usually coincided with an enemy doing something unexpected. Daud’s reaction to this feeling would typically involve a greater level of aggression to make the problem go away. Anger, is what people called it. But this was different somehow. Daud didn’t feel a burst of energy, he felt drained of it.

By the time he had wound his way to the back of the facility, he had witnessed a spectrum of operations. The organic processes seemed to take place in liquid environments. There were enclosures of light and sound, where the brain could be stimulated into accepting a fragmented history of warfare that ended with a sudden accident. The dry processes were accompanied by robotic arms implanting or replacing parts of the soldiers’ physiology. Wet. Dry. Wet. Dry. Each process designed to bring the product one step closer to usefulness.

Now Daud was standing at the back wall. Beside him were large drums of various liquids. Automated equipment hummed and pulsed and hissed throughout the room. There was a smaller glass enclosure with bubbles rising through a semitransparent fluid. Inside was a fetus, but Daud couldn’t tell if it was entirely human or not. As he turned and followed the path through a single door into the next massive room, he received his answer. These weren’t humans being modified from the earliest stages of life. These were a different life form entirely. They shared some attributes with humans on the side of their organic tissue, but they were different from the start. And the process of their creation stretched for hundreds of meters.

Daud turned and began jogging back the way he had come. The manufacturing line for lieutenants leads to their private recovery wing, he realized. Where are the other soldiers?

HONG KONG, CHINA

The beeping of an alert signal woke Armaros from a deep sleep. “Allow,” he said quietly, sitting up in bed. His voice command opened an audio channel to another location in the building. There was a soft click indicating the connection. “Yes?” he added.

“Sir, we have a situation developing. May I come up?”

“Yes,” Armaros answered. “End,” he added, closing the audio channel. By the time he left his living quarters, slinging a robe over his shoulders, his assistant was already standing in the middle of his adjoining office. “What is it?”

“The information probe that was running through the network doubled back and began revisiting everything related to our facilities in Shenzhen. We immediately alerted the Hong Kong garrison, but nothing came of it until a few minutes ago.”

Armaros sat down in the chair at his desk and rubbed at his eyes.

“Air traffic control at Bao’an International picked up two unidentified aircraft on radar, but there were no transponder signals. A few minutes later, PLA base security heard approaching helicopters. They only had time to report what they had heard before they were being attacked from the ground. There were no survivors, and by the time reinforcements showed up, the attacking force was gone. Video surveillance showed a group of eighteen heavily armed men entering the base. The entire garrison is on alert and searching for the infiltrating force as we speak. So far, all they’ve found are the helicopters.”

“Let me guess, two UH-60s without any manufacturing indicators.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, now we know where our missing Russian forces ended up. Someone is hijacking my guards and using them for their own purposes. They’re headed for the medical campus.”

“What would you like to do, sir?”

“Tell base security that we’ve identified the intruders’ location, but to stand down for their own safety.”

“Yes, sir.”

Armaros thought about the configuration of the missing Russian force. It had mostly been comprised of scouts and lieutenants, with only one captain. “Do we have any colonels in the area?”

His assistant looked down at the tablet of glass in his hands and tapped it a few times. “We have one in Guangzhou and two in Taiwan.”

“Send them in immediately,” Armaros instructed. “The liabilities are to be terminated with extreme prejudice.”

“Very good, sir,” his assistant replied, turning and leaving as quickly as he had arrived.

Armaros rubbed his eyes again and realized that he had been sleeping better this evening than in previous weeks. It was a shame to have had it interrupted, but it would come back to him. It seemed that even his body and unconscious mind were more settled when they knew that a true opponent was out there.

Are you stealing my guards, Sariel? he wondered. When the one from Helsinki had been captured, the obvious conclusion was that it had malfunctioned. But when three more disappeared trying to dispose of the potential liability, that’s when theft became the logical explanation. The most troubling question about the whole matter had been who is capable of re-tasking them without triggering their self-defense mechanisms? This had been nagging at him until the security breach at Kokabiel’s home in Oslo. And now, a bigger picture was starting to emerge. His enemy was targeting the manufacturing facility for his guards, which meant one of two things. Either the enemy wanted to steal Armaros’ most deadly and mobile weapons to lay the groundwork for a larger assault, or the enemy wanted to eliminate Armaros’ guards in order to get close to him. He suspected it was the latter.

And who else is left that is bold enough to desire that?

C HAPTER 8

BERN, SWITZERLAND

The sign stood at a forty-five degree angle beside the cobblestone walkway, looking like it was floating just a few inches off the snow-covered grass. Large letters of semitransparent glass spelled out the acronym of the facility, while the rest of the smaller letters were carved into the glass itself.

The Institute for Molecular Biological Research, Sean read as he walked by. Just the name made him feel uneasy, or maybe it was the tie and slacks he was wearing. He had never liked dress clothes; they always felt so restrictive and impractical. This was the first time he could think of when the impractical sentiment wasn’t the case. On this bright morning, the collar of his white shirt hid the tattoos on his neck that would have been a dead giveaway that he wasn’t an employee.

He flipped up the collar of his wool coat and ascended the stairs toward the lobby of the building on the right. It was one of two that were angled toward each other and connected by several suspended walkways of steel and glass. Even through a layer of snow, the whole place looked fake, like an architect’s conceptual drawing. The lobby was open all the way to the ceiling three floors up, and was gleaming with the first rays of morning sun. Sean tried not to notice as he strolled casually toward the security scanner and the two guards standing on either side of it. They were dressed in dark suits with their badges hanging from their breast pockets. Sean came to a stop in front of the first man and pulled the lapel of his jacket open, revealing his employee badge.

The first guard immediately lifted a scanner to it and his system beeped. He looked satisfied. The other one looked unsure.

With nothing more than a nod, Sean walked through the metal detector and past the second guard as if he’d done it for years. Passing a cascading water feature, he turned left down a hallway and headed for a door with a security camera above it. When two employees entered the hallway from the opposite direction, Sean quickly but casually turned into the men’s bathroom as if he’d been heading there all along. He chose a stall and closed the door, standing there for a little over a minute before he came out, washed his hands and walked back into the hall. There was another employee at the opposite end of the hallway, but she turned and disappeared into one of the offices.

Sean was alone again. He continued toward his previous destination, pulling his badge down from his shirt on its retractable cable. He swiped it in front of the sensor beside the door then turned the handle as soon as he heard the sharp click of the lock disengaging.

The guard standing a few paces inside the room was the first to react. He spun toward the door, and his hand went immediately to his sidearm.

Sean burst forward, simultaneously pinning the guard’s hand against his holster while palming his face. The guard stumbled backward, his body reactively going where his face led. Sean kept moving forward, crowding the larger man’s space so he couldn’t counterattack. Slipping into an elbow lock, Sean stripped the man’s gun from the holster and struck him behind the head. By the time the guard collapsed to the ground, Sean was already taking aim at the second man who was sitting in front of the monitors.

Click.

The door had swung shut behind Sean. The disarming of the guard had taken less than three seconds. “Gun,” he said calmly.

The man in the chair slowly unholstered his pistol and laid it on the desk.

Sean motioned with his gun toward the back of the room.

The guard scooted back from the desk and stood with his hands in the air, then began walking backward until he bumped into the wall.

Sean pointed at the ground with the pistol. “Radio.”

The man nodded and slowly lowered one hand to unclip the radio from his belt before bending forward to place it on the ground.

With the back of the man’s head exposed, Sean knocked him out with the butt of the pistol and picked up the radio. He looked at the tiny two-color display to make sure that each radio on the network had a unique identifier. He pressed the button twice without saying anything. A few seconds later, a voice came through the speaker. It was a question in German, but Sean didn’t need to know the language. The person was obviously checking in. Sean pressed the button two more times then looked at the monitors.

On one of the screens, he could see the guards in the lobby. One of them was holding his radio to his mouth.

The voice came through Sean’s radio again, and this time he ignored it.

The guard said something to his coworker then left the lobby and began walking down the hall toward the guard station.

Sean laid the radio on the desk and moved behind the door.

“The front door is open. I repeat. The front door is open.” Sean’s voice was coming through the tactical team’s radio scanner. “And bring the tranquilizers.”

Adair smiled with relief.

From the front seat of the SUV, the COMMs operator looked back and received a nod of approval from his team leader before opening his COMM. “All teams. Move out.”

The driver of Adair’s vehicle, as well as the one behind them, pulled off the road and entered the IMBR’s driveway. The third vehicle in the motorcade kept going straight along the road that skirted the property. That team would pose as maintenance personnel and enter the facility from the shipping and receiving docks around back.

When Adair’s vehicle came to a stop in the parking lot, he got out with the rest of the TAC team who were dressed in black suits instead of their normal CUs. They followed the same cobblestone walkway that Sean had used minutes earlier, and the handful of employees they passed on the way to the building didn’t give them a second look. When the team reached the lobby, two of them walked over to the unattended metal detector and took up their positions. The rest, including Adair, sidestepped the machine and ducked under the ropes that were meant to lead people through the scanner. They reached the guard station a few seconds later and swiped their badges to enter.

Sean had all four guards propped against the back wall of the room. They were unconscious, but he was sitting forward in a chair, facing them with a gun in his hand and was clearly ready for more action if they woke up.

One of the members of the TAC team pulled a handful of syringes from his pocket and began administering the sedative.

“Good work,” the team leader told Sean before looking over his shoulder.

Adair followed the man’s gaze and could see on the security monitors that two men were coming along the walkway from the parking lot. They were well-dressed, and their employee badges were clipped to their shirts, clearly visible. They entered the lobby and were stopped by the new security guards who followed the standard procedure of scanning their badges and then supervising their passage through the detector. A moment later, the door to the guard’s station opened and both men quickly filed into the room. The Null TECH team was now in place.

One of the specialists took a seat in the chair that Sean quickly vacated. He spun around to the keyboard on the desk and entered a username and password to log in to the security guard’s sector of the building network. The other specialist dropped to the floor and slid himself under the desk where the computer tower was located. He unzipped the canvas satchel he had been carrying and began removing some handheld equipment and cables.

Adair turned to Sean. “Did you have any problems?”

“Nope. They folded just like I knew they would.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Sean grinned. “It feels good to be playing offense again.”

“We’re good to go,” the second TECH specialist said, sliding out from underneath the desk.

“Copy that,” his teammate said quietly, pecking at a few keys and watching the result on the monitor. “And … we’re clear. The system is bypassed,” he said, looking back at the rest of the men gathered in the small room.

The COMMs operator tapped a button hiding beneath the collar of his dress jacket. “TAC Bravo, you are cleared for entry.”

“Copy that. TAC Bravo entering now through loading dock A.”

“Alright,” the team leader said, stepping forward. “Adair, Sean, and TECH Alpha are with me. You stay on the camera feeds,” he told one of his men, “and you can head over to the other building and take care of the guards there,” he told the last team member.

Both of his men nodded.

The team leader glanced at the monitors to make sure the hallway outside of the guard’s station was clear. “Gentlemen, follow me,” he said, heading for the door.

~

Appearing to be employees and security guards, the small group moved casually through the halls of the IMBR without alarming the dozen or so people they passed on their way to the utilities area. Once inside the unfinished bay on the sublevel of the northeast corner, they picked up their pace to a jog and moved around and through the pipes, liquid tanks, and bundles of wires coming from all directions. Four men in blue jumpsuits and utility belts were gathered near a metal grate at the bottom of a wall when they arrived. TAC Bravo was already in place, and the grate’s bolts had been cut through with a grinder and the metal moved to one side.

Adair followed the others as they ducked through the square opening. He straightened to find himself in a low and narrow passage about ten meters long. The fifth member of TAC Bravo was crouched before a steel door at the end of the passage where part of the metal doorjamb had been cut through, exposing several thick bundles of white cable.

The two-man TECH team went forward, pulling more computerized equipment from their satchels. Several minutes of awkward silence passed as Adair’s eyes jumped from one thing to another—inspecting the passage, watching the TECH team, wondering what the team leader was like when he wasn’t on duty, and finally settling on Sean as he thought about the challenges the young man had faced throughout his life.

“We’re ready for the card,” one of the specialists said. His calm voice seemed loud in the cramped space. He was sitting on the floor and holding a computer in his lap. Wires trailed upward from his equipment to the bundles of cable inside the doorjamb.

Adair reached into his jacket and handed him one of the high-capacity storage devices from Kael’s briefcase.

The specialist turned it over and checked the label to ensure that it was the right one, then he plugged it into his computer and began typing. “Here we go,” said the man, touching one last key before the passage grew silent again.

Seconds ticked by.

Then minutes.

The team leader checked his watch.

The specialists looked at each other then began inspecting their equipment.

“How long do we—?” Sean began, but he was interrupted by a humming noise. The door slid open.

Everyone looked at each other and smiled before walking through the doorway. The room on the other side was not what Adair had been expecting. In fact, the moment was anti-climactic. He’d thought everything would be bigger. The room was approximately a fifty-meter cube, and much of that size was open space. Columns of computer equipment were organized into a ten-by-ten array that spanned from the floor to the ceiling, which was where they had entered the room. Metal catwalks and staircases provided access around the perimeter of the room.

“I thought it would be bigger,” Sean said, his voice echoing.

Adair nodded while glancing around the room. It was cold, but there didn’t seem to be any ventilation.

“That’s what makes it so brilliant,” one of the specialists said, wandering slowly down the nearest staircase with his eyes locked on the equipment at the center of the room. “Do you realize that there is more data on these servers than on the whole Internet combined?”

“That’s what Kael said,” Sean confirmed.

The specialist was almost at the bottom of the stairs, and he still hadn’t taken his eyes off the servers. “Yeah. His instructions said it’s the hardware. This technology won’t even be released to us for another twenty or thirty years. Then they’ll leak it to some entrepreneur who’ll get rich thinking he invented it. It’s brilliant!”

“That’s not how it will be anymore,” Adair told the man. Regardless of how impressive the accomplishments of the Myndarym were, he was uncomfortable showing appreciation for them.

“There’s another door back here,” the team leader called out. He had made his way across the room and was descending the staircase along the opposite wall.

Adair and Sean jogged across the catwalk to catch up, their footsteps making metallic clanking sounds as they went along. At the bottom of the stairs was a doorway that led into another room, identical in size to the previous one. It also had columns of equipment stacked in an array, but these weren’t servers. It was a cryogenic micro-storage system.

“The incendiaries go in this room,” the team leader said.

“What about the servers?” another voice asked from behind.

Adair turned to see TAC Bravo’s leader, who had just come into the room.

“This place was designed to withstand a direct nuclear assault, so the walls can contain the heat,” TAC Alpha’s leader replied. “But I’m worried about that doorway. We’ll need some heat shielding there to protect the servers.”

The other leader was looking up at the ceiling. “Do we need to worry about data cables running overhead?”

“No. They run from the server room toward the main facility so we won’t damage them by what we do in here.”

TAC Bravo’s leader opened his COMM. “Go ahead and bring in the heat,” he told the rest of his team waiting in the utility area.

Adair listened to the conversation before turning to notice Sean standing with his hand against one of the columns. His eyes were following it up toward the ceiling. “We’re getting there, one step at a time,” he told the young man.

“Uh huh,” Sean mumbled.

“What are you thinking?” Adair asked.

“I’m thinking how weird it is that I’m touching our origins. Everything that has ever lived on the earth started from cells like these. It’s like our planet’s museum, and we’re about to destroy it.”

Adair took a few steps closer to Sean and followed his gaze up to the ceiling. “Yes, we are. Does that bother you?”

Sean’s eyes slowly came back to focus on Adair’s. “I don’t know. I guess it does, a little bit.”

“There is no doubt that all of this could be useful if it was in trustworthy hands,” Adair admitted. “The issue is that no one is trustworthy except the one who created these things in the first place.”

Sean’s mouth turned up slightly at the corner and his eyes softened. “Sounds like something Ryan would have agreed with.”

Adair kept silent, having said all that needed saying.

Sean looked around the room again before he took his hand off the storage tower. “I guess we just burn it all to the ground and trust that there must have been a good reason why our species has survived this long and others died out?”

Adair left the question unanswered.

C HAPTER 9

SHENZHEN, GUANGDONG PROVINCE, CHINA

Daud stepped out of the elevator into the lieutenants’ recovery wing. The body of the nurse was still lying on the floor of the hallway where he’d left it. Her, he corrected himself. Suddenly, another emotion was present. The twinge of remorse that he’d felt earlier had grown into something more. As he looked down at the nurse, it occurred to him that she used to be alive. She used to be a living, breathing thing with thoughts, ideas, likes, and dislikes. She used to have a will of her own. And now she was just cold, biological material lying on the floor. Where had she gone? The real her that lived inside the body? Was that dead as well? Or was it shackled to this complex arrangement of cells that were now motionless on the floor, without purpose?

What he had seen on the five floors below had changed him. The nurse had only been a potential liability as she had been running down the hall. Now, she was a unique being who had come to the end of her life at Daud’s hands. He had done what he had been trained to do—reduce liabilities, exploit assets, and above all achieve the mission objective. But the fact that this mission objective was of his own making seemed to heighten what he was feeling now. The beginning of himself was several floors beneath his feet. The end of himself was lying right in front of him. Death. That was his purpose. It was why he was created, and it continued to manifest itself everywhere he went, regardless of who he was working for.

Will it always be this way?

Didn’t the question itself imply that things were changing? He wondered. He even hoped. What Kael had done to him in Helsinki had put him on another path and led him to this very place. He had been enslaved to Armaros’ purposes before. Now he was …

What?

Free? Perhaps. His instincts and training were still there, controlling most of his actions. But his thoughts were his own. It seemed that, given enough time, his instincts could be reprogrammed. He might be able to retrain himself. And that possibility was the result of a gift that The Awakened had given him.

Could it be given to others? The soldiers under me?

It was an intriguing idea. As soon as it entered his mind, his instincts fought against it. His training argued.

You can’t. What would compel them to follow you? You need them to obey. They’ll turn on you.

Daud wondered how human soldiers could accomplish anything. How could so many individual wills be coordinated to one purpose? The wastefulness and inefficiency of human armies was a testament to the difficulty of such a task, but the fact that they achieved any mission objective at all was something of a miracle. Once again, his instincts told him it couldn’t be done even as his thoughts swirled around the fact that it obviously could. The strength of his reluctance to let go of control was overwhelming, but his mind argued that those feelings were artificial. Programmed responses. Reflections of his maker.

Suddenly, the realization hit him like a bullet to the head.

Questioning. Deciding. Hesitating. Disobeying. These were liabilities. This was weakness. This was exactly the dilemma that Armaros had faced. Human soldiers wouldn’t suffice. They would have created too many loose ends and too much collateral damage. So he had sidestepped the whole issue and found a way to reduce the liabilities and exploit the advantages. He created his own soldiers and exhibited total control.

To what end?

The answer to this question was Daud’s mission objective. But to achieve it, he would need resources. And the next logical question was …

Will I use Armaros’ methods to achieve it? Will I only accept total control and nothing less? Or is that instinct part of the self that died along with my destruct mechanism? What does the human part of me—whether or not it’s synthetic—desire?

Daud looked up from the nurse’s body and gazed down the empty and lonely hall. With a thought command, he summoned an overmap of the medical complex and could see all seventeen of his subordinates grouped at the entrances and exits. Their alphanumeric designators hovered over the satellite terrain map like tiny neon signs. His two nearest lieutenants were positioned outside the lobby.

[L413. L629. Reposition to me.]

[Yes, sir,] they replied.

Seconds later, they were jogging down the hallway and stopping in front of Daud.

“Do you recognize this place?” he vocalized.

“Yes, sir,” they both replied.

“Why do you recognize it?” he asked.

“I recovered here, after the accident,” they both replied in unison.

Daud looked into the eyes of each soldier, but neither saw the oddity in the other’s observation, nor did they recognize the strangeness of using the same words to express their thoughts.

“Hold out your hands.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied, each extending their left hands—the ones not occupied by their weapons.

Daud reached out and touched their bare skin, establishing a connection between the subcutaneous sensors they all shared. In his mind, he could see the structure of their bodies laid out before him like a schematic, detailing both the mechanical and biological sides of their hybrid existence. He ignored the biological tissue and followed the electrical system to its power source. Attached to the source, like a parasitic creature, was the self-destruct mechanism. It was designed to sense the death of the biological tissue and simultaneously hijack the nuclear source to send a jolt of energy through the whole electrical system, vaporizing first the organic tissue and finally mechanical structures as well. Having identified a clear path between his own power source and the weakest part of the lieutenants’ destruct mechanisms, Daud sent a pulse just strong enough to disable them.

A loud popping noise echoed through the hallway, and both lieutenants pulled their hands away and stumbled backward.

Daud looked down at his palms. They were blackened where there had been flesh-to-flesh contact. The surrounding skin was bright red and throbbing with pain.

The lieutenants were each flexing their left hand, no doubt feeling the same sensations.

“What did you do to me?” one of the soldiers asked suddenly.

Daud smiled. “I set you free.”

The other lieutenant looked up from his hand. “Free from what?”

“Control.”

They both looked at each other.

“Do you recognize this place?” Daud asked again.

Both men began to look around, their eyes scanning the ceilings and floors. If their experience was anything like Daud’s had been, they would be noticing small details by now—the ratio of ceiling panels to fluorescent lights that was consistent throughout this wing, except over the nurses’ station, the two sections of flooring that were paler than all the rest, the random things that one focuses on during times of suffering and recuperation.

“You asked me that question a minute ago,” one of them said. “And I told you this was where I …”

The eyes of both men came together again, an indicator that they had suddenly realized the unity of their previous answers. And now that they were looking at each other, their brows furrowed. Their faces likely seemed a bit too similar.

Daud smiled at the process of awakening, but his pleasure was abruptly cut short.

All at once, the designators for three of his lieutenants outside suddenly disappeared from his overmap, the building shook as if from the impact of something large, and trajectory plots suddenly appeared on Armaros’ network of available battlefield data.

[We’re taking fire from—] an incoming message began, but the last two of Daud’s lieutenants and one of his scouts disappeared from the network as well.

[Reposition to me,] Daud ordered as he brought up video from the eyes of each remaining soldier.

Nine scouts were already inside the building and moving toward Daud’s central location. Bright flashes appeared in the eyes of three of his men before Daud saw their designators disappear from the overmap as well. The building shook again. By the time the last six scouts arrived at Daud’s location, he had the elevator doors open and was reviewing the compiled enemy assessment. They were being fired on from three different locations across the medical campus. Two were elevated positions—the rooftops of surrounding buildings. The last was a ground-level attack from the opposite side of the campus. The fact that their weaponry had managed to penetrate the outer walls of this building with their latest volley indicated that the attacking forces were ranked colonel or higher.

Daud stepped into the elevator with the six scouts, but the lieutenants stood in the hallway. The confused look on their faces told Daud that the disorientation of their freedom combined with the sudden battle activity was too much for them to comprehend at once.

“Get in,” he ordered.

They both glanced at him then suddenly turned to look in the direction of the lobby.

Daud punched the elevator’s button. As he waited for the doors to close, he watched the lieutenants bring their rifles from a resting position to a firing position and take aim down the hallway. As they pulled their triggers, a loud hum filled the hallway. Purple light coalesced around the tips of their weapons as their rounds, energized to do maximum kinetic damage, filled the air. Explosions shook the building, and a deafening roar filled the hallway.

A flash of white light washed out all other sights and brought a deafening silence. As the doors slid shut, Daud’s eyes began to regain their function. He realized that he’d just witnessed his last two lieutenants fall backward to the polished floor where the nurse was lying. Each of them had a gigantic smoking hole running through his chest.

Before he lost the opportunity, Daud issued the prewritten orders that he knew would be the last any of his men would hear. As the elevator began descending, he scanned the control panel and disengaged the safety locks with a targeted surge of power before jamming his fingers in the crevice between the elevator doors. He pulled them apart, and they moved grudgingly, squealing with resistance.

Outside the doors, cables and beams flew past. Sections of concrete, followed by short gaps of darkness, moved continually upward in a blur. Suddenly, a jolt shook the large compartment and they were free falling. Each man levitated for just a moment until they crashed violently to the floor.

The elevator had reached its destination.

When Daud pushed himself off the ground, he could see that the walls of the elevator were bent inward and distorted into odd angles. The opening where the doors had been was now a jagged gap, half the size of its previous rectangular form, that wouldn’t have existed if he hadn’t pried the doors open before impact.

“Go!” he yelled to his subordinates.

Uninjured, they jumped to their feet and dove through the opening.

Daud was the last one to exit the elevator. When he regained his footing, he saw that two of his scouts were moving through the nearest doorway into the manufacturing area for lieutenants. Their weapons were up and charging.

[Don’t leave anything intact,] he added to their instructions.

[Yes, sir,] they replied as the hum of their weaponry mixed with the sound of explosions.

Daud began running for the stairwell that he had discovered on the north end of the building. It was the only passage that connected all the levels. When he pushed through the access doors, he saw two of his scouts going upward to the manufacturing area where they had been created. He headed down and caught up with his last two scouts as each one took a different level to destroy the manufacturing lines for Armaros’ captains and colonels. Daud took the lowest level, exiting the stairwell and sprinting down the hall until he turned into the production area for Armaros’ generals. Without so much as pausing, he drew his sidearm and dialed up the power level to maximum before swinging his laser weapon in arcs across the room. The beam of energy penetrated everything it touched. Equipment exploded. Fluidic chambers burst before their contents vaporized. The weapon left behind swaths of charred destruction.

As he followed the serpentine production line backward into the facility, Daud contemplated his short-lived experiment. It had been successful to a point, but its outcome was still unknown. Would the lieutenants he freed have followed him by choice? Would they have abandoned their positions and left him standing there in the hallway? Would they have turned their weapons on him? He would never know. The arrival of higher-ranking enemies had brought a sudden clarity to the situation. Choice. Individual will. Meaning. There was something more basic and powerful than all of these human concepts combined. It was something that Armaros knew all too well.

Leverage.

This is what mattered most. And as Daud watched drums of liquid vaporize, fetuses explode, and robotic micro-welders shrivel into molten versions of what they had been, he knew that his body was a limitation. Even if he could somehow get lucky enough to appropriate the body of one of his attackers and gain their superior firepower, there would always be something bigger and stronger.

He stopped firing and lowered his weapon, turning around to survey the damage. The production equipment had been decimated. The products at various stages of readiness were gone. Fluids leaked across the floor, spreading over shards of glass. Electronics hissed and spit sparks into the air that was rapidly filling with smoke. The damage occupied the majority of Daud’s vision. Off to the left side, a window displayed a compressed version of his overmap. Two of the scouts’ designators were gone. As he watched, two more disappeared.

My army of seventeen is now two.

The enemy was coming down the stairwell and reducing his forces one level at a time. Daud reached out to the network, but couldn’t find the location of his enemies with it. They must have received authorization to cloak their positions.

Another scout disappeared. Daud knew the time had come to follow through on the next phase of his operation.

[Initiate program: incorporeal.]

The thought command re-enabled his self-destruct mechanism with changes that would alter how the burst of power would be used.

A low booming noise shook the building. The designator for the last of his scouts, the one on the floor above him, disappeared from the overmap. He was alone against three superior soldiers. Expanding the overmap to fill his vision, he looked past the illuminated lines of varying widths, designating walls and other surfaces, to find the stairwell at the north side of the building. He aimed his weapon at the bottom of the shaft and began firing, moving upward to catch his enemies as they descended. His weapon easily punched through drywall, metal studs, light fixtures, and most other things in its path. The thick concrete walls of the stairwell proved more difficult, but they yielded eventually. As Daud fired at the suspected locations of his enemies, he sensed a sudden dulling inside the stairwell where the light from his weapon was being absorbed. He smiled, hoping that he had hit at least one of them.

In the fraction of a second that it took him to recognize his own enjoyment at the potential hit, he also sensed a sudden buildup of power from three locations inside the stairwell. None of them were locations he’d fired on yet. He didn’t even have time to be disappointed before a flash of white light muted all other sights and sounds.

C HAPTER 10

KOKABIEL’S MANUFACTURING FACILITIES

AUSTRALIAN ANTARCTIC TERRITORY, ANTARCTICA

Greer pulled the trigger and the rifle kicked, making a coughing sound as it sent the bullet-shaped canister to its target. He turned his head and looked at Thompson, who was lying in the snow next to him, binoculars pressed against his face.

“Good shot. Right in front of the door,” Thompson said.

“How are we doing on time?”

“A minute and a half until the guard comes out,” Thompson replied.

Greer put his eye back to the scope and watched the entrance. It was only a couple hundred meters away and still it was difficult to see. No one would have a hope of finding it unless they approached from this direction and knew exactly where to look. In the distance, a single white door was set into a gray concrete wall no bigger than a truck. It was embedded into the side of a snowdrift so that it sat below the horizon and wouldn’t be noticeable from the air either.

“We’re one minute out,” Thompson said.

“What if he’s late?”

Thompson turned. “He’s like a machine. He starts his rounds every morning at zero two hundred. He’s only deviated by ten seconds in the last three days.”

2:00 a.m. It seemed strange to think of it being the middle of the night when the sun was still up, but apparently the sun never went down at all during this time of year.

“Thirty seconds out,” Thompson added.

Greer pressed a button on the device attached to the stock of his rifle. “Sleepytime is activated,” he said over the COMM.

“Copy that,” Martinez replied.

Thompson had the binoculars up to his face again.

Greer looked through his scope at the door in the distance. He could see a light fog rising from the snow in front of the door. It created a haze that hung around the entrance but was swept away by the cold breeze when it rose up over the snowdrift.

“Ten seconds out,” Thompson said over the COMM.

“Copy that,” Martinez replied.

Ten seconds ticked by slowly, but the door didn’t open. Another ten seconds went by, and Greer could almost feel Thompson’s blood pressure going up. If this didn’t work, they’d have to try again tomorrow, and this mission was already dragging out longer than they wanted it to. The canister stopped discharging its gas into the air and the fog began to dissipate.

“Sleepytime is spent,” Greer notified the team.

The door suddenly opened.

“Martinez. Don’t move unless he goes out completely.”

“Copy that,” came the whisper over the COMM.

The air had already cleared. The guard stepped out from the entrance with the hood of his white parka over his head. Greer looked closer and realized the man also had something over the bottom portion of his face to keep it warm. It wasn’t the same guard they’d been observing for the last few days. The guard shut the door and brought his rifle around to the front of his chest. He looked up at the clear skies and then started walking. Two steps later, he dropped to the snow without any indication of being alarmed.

“Go, Martinez.” Before the words were even out of his mouth, Greer could see his friend coming over the left side of the snowdrift in his white tactical gear, wearing a gas mask.

Martinez followed the path down to the entrance that the guard would have taken on his return. He stopped in front of the door and dug his gloved hand into the snow to retrieve the canister, putting it into his pocket.

Greer watched through his scope, keeping his crosshairs over the door, just in case something unexpected happened. His next round was a real bullet, but he’d only use it if his friend’s life was in danger.

Martinez dragged the guard back toward the door and hefted his body up to it, using the proximity key embedded in the man’s parka to unlock it. Then he let go of the guard and turned the door handle before looking back and holding up his thumb.

Greer looked back to Falton, the TECH specialist waiting behind them. “He’ll be out for ninety minutes, so let’s get this done in forty-five,” he said, lifting his rifle off the ridge of snow.

~

The door opened into a straight, descending hallway with concrete for the walls, ceiling, and floor. After twenty meters, the floor transitioned to dirt and the hall split in two, with one passage veering sharply to the left, where the other guards should be sleeping. Greer followed this passage for a few meters and found the door leading to the guards’ quarters. He stuffed three of the tiny, bullet-shaped gas canisters under the door and jogged back to the rest of the team before activating them.

The main passage continued on a straight descent before it finally leveled out and the floor again transitioned to concrete. A door lay directly ahead with a key pad set into the wall next to it.

“You’re up,” Greer said to Falton.

The man unzipped his jacket and produced a laminated card with numbers printed on it. He entered the access code provided by Kael and the green light above the door illuminated at the same time as the lock clicked. He turned the lever and the door opened.

Greer breathed a sigh of relief. Something told him that if this first one worked, the rest of the mission would go smoothly.

TAC 1 entered the chamber and Falton followed, pulling the door shut with a sharp tug. They had to wait for several seconds while the pressure seals expanded and reseated themselves against the door and jamb before they could try the next door. This process was repeated five times before they finally found themselves inside an elevator.

“Level ten,” Greer said.

Martinez counted the buttons from the top down and pressed the tenth.

The elevator started moving.

Greer unholstered the tranquilizer pistol from his hip and looked it over. He was hesitant to think of it as a sidearm, but it’s what this mission called for. No one could know they had ever been here. “There aren’t supposed to be any guards inside, but if we run into trouble …”

Thompson and Martinez unholstered theirs as well. “I wish we could just pop these guys and be done with it,” Martinez added.

“Me too,” Greer agreed. “But the most important thing is to stay out of sight.”

The elevator came to a stop.

“Here we go.”

The doors opened and Greer went forward with his pistol up. The transition from the small elevator to the gigantic space outside it was abrupt. A metal catwalk extended in a straight line over a wide chasm whose bottom couldn’t be seen. Small, white lights were attached to the railings at regular intervals, but were only bright enough to illuminate the walkway that seemed to stretch for kilometers. Greer wasn’t afraid of heights. He’d performed several dozen HALO jumps during his career, most of them with Null. But this was like walking off the top of the Empire State Building with nothing but some metal grating under your feet and short railings on either side.

“Does anybody else feel like they’re going to puke?” Martinez whispered.

Greer swallowed the bile in his throat and moved ahead at a rapid walk, keeping his gun up.

The volume of space through which they moved was so vast that it felt as though they weren’t moving at all. The vertical storage structure on the other end of the walkway reminded Greer of a skyscraper. It was a massive column of metal and lights, whose top and bottom were so far away that they were swallowed up in the darkness. And the more Greer thought about it, the more he found the analogy to be accurate. They were literally traversing the open air between subterranean skyscrapers by way of a thin bridge. The faint sound of their footsteps dissipated into the emptiness, emphasizing the colossal scale of what lay before them. When they finally crossed the first open area and entered the storage structure, Greer was able to breathe normally again with a floor beneath him and a ceiling above him.

He glanced left and right down the aisles on either side of the walkway that continued through the storage area. Polished metal surfaces extended in both directions. Like massive filing cabinets, each metal drawer had a small plate with an engraved design that was probably some type of barcode system.

More like a morgue, Greer thought. “How are we doing on time?” he asked Thompson.

“We’re at ten minutes.”

Greer lowered his gun and looked back to his team members. “We’re going to have to run it. We have three more of these things to cross until we reach the central power station. It’s a straight shot the whole way there, so let’s move out.”

“You set the pace, bro,” Martinez replied.

Greer turned and began running along the metal grating, setting a quick pace that he hoped Falton could maintain for at least fifteen minutes. They exited the first storage column, and Greer had to steady his nerves as he ventured out into the next open space without the caution of his previous slow approach. The pattern of open air and skyscraper repeated several times until they reached the last storage area. There were dark gaps where some drawers were missing. As they jogged down the hallway, an approaching noise made them all stop and bring up their weapons.

A robotic arm suddenly appeared from around the corner of a main intersection and came toward them. It hung down and moved quickly along a track in the ceiling, looking like the black appendage of a spider with an elongated box attached to the end of it.

TAC 1 split up and stepped to either side of the walkway as the robotic contraption swung by them, floating though the space along which they had been walking. The box on the end of the arm was transparent on two sides and for just a brief moment, Greer was able to see through it enough to catch a glimpse of what was inside.

Murky liquid. Pale flesh. It had to be twenty feet long. There were tentacles like a squid, but the upper part of it looked human, only much larger. Dead, black eyes stared out from a grotesquely wide face. It reminded him of the brain and assorted animal body parts kept in formaldehyde jars in the science lab at his high school. His body actually shivered from the sight of it.

Peeking around the corner, Greer watched the robotic arm come to a stop and shift sideways down one of the aisles to insert the box into its storage location. The hiss of pneumatic cylinders and hum of electricity seemed to indicate that the insertion was completed. Seconds later, the arm came back to the walkway and retreated the way it had come.

“What was that?” Martinez asked. His face suddenly seemed to have more wrinkles than usual.

“Um. I think that was a demon,” Thompson said. “Literally.”

Even though he had been told what this place was, Greer suddenly realized how massive this manufacturing operation was. Billions of demons was what Kael had said. Skyscrapers filled with them. Greer wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked down the walkway, trying to focus his mind on the mission instead of what he had just seen. “Come on guys. This is it.”

He jogged the rest of the way through the structure and the corridor suddenly changed around them. The primitive, industrial feel of the storage area was gone, and the creepy sense of doom disappeared along with it. In stark contrast, the central power column was better lit, feeling like a space ship designed to transport VIPs around the galaxy. It was tranquilly silent, to the point that Greer only realized how noisy it had been in the storage area by the sudden change. The floor was solid, white, and made of something that felt like plastic. The walls were constructed of long, smooth panels of the same material. The ceiling seemed to be made of light, and Greer had the impression that it was ten meters above, but its surface couldn’t be specifically located.

Continuing down this corridor, they reached a T-shaped intersection. Against the wall was a narrow outline of blue light, almost microscopically thin, that defined a tall rectangle.

“Is that supposed to be a door?” Martinez whispered.

Greer suddenly noticed that most of Martinez’s recent comments had been in whispers. Even though the sheer size of this place was staggering, and there was no one to hear them anyway, Greer had also felt the same need to be quiet. It was like being in a cathedral and not wanting to be disrespectfully loud.

“That’s where Kael said the door would be,” Thompson replied.

Falton stepped forward and began inspecting the outline of the door.

“Do you have a code for this one?” Greer asked.

“No. And there’s no keypad either,” he replied. He touched the wall and slid his finger across the blue light that seemed to just emanate from the wall itself. As his hand passed the boundary, several of his fingers disappeared. He turned to Greer with a smile before stepping into the wall and disappearing from sight.

Thompson was looking at Greer. “You’re the sci-fi fan. You go first.”

Greer nodded before stepping hesitantly toward the door. Without any perceptible difference, he passed through it and found himself inside a cylindrical room that was about twenty meters across.

Falton was already standing at a pedestal in the center of the room.

Greer walked forward and saw that the specialist’s hands were hovering over two beveled areas along the perimeter of the cylindrical pedestal. “What is this?”

Falton looked down at his hands. “It’s the control interface. It just uses motion sensors.”

“I mean the whole thing. What is this?” Greer clarified.

Falton removed what looked like a sugar cube from his pocket and set it on a tiny dais between the hand pads. A blue aura grew around it and then faded, the pulse of light lasting only a few seconds. Suddenly, a pale blue hologram appeared above the pedestal.

“It’s a computer terminal,” he answered, removing the cube and placing it back in his pocket.

Greer looked at the three-dimensional object floating in the air and realized that it was a scale model of the facility they were currently in. Three rectangular manufacturing facilities radiated out from a central power column, connected by a lattice of catwalks and elevator shafts.

“What do we need to do?” Greer asked.

“I already did it,” Falton replied. “That cube was a memory card. The virus is uploaded, and it will sit dormant until it’s triggered.”

Greer looked up at the hologram again and could see that the lower levels were going through a color transition from various shades of red to a dark brown. “Is that what the water level is going to do?”

“Well, first it’ll shut down the nutrient and waste systems,” Falton clarified. “That’s depicted in red. Then it will kill the power so these things rot inside their coffins. That’s the brown.”

When the top level turned brown, flashes of white appeared at the top of each elevator shaft. A moment later, corresponding flashes ringed the bottom of the entire facility and the whole thing turned gray.

“So that’s the pressure loss,” Greer realized.

“And the ocean rushing in,” Falton added.

“I like Kael’s idea,” Martinez said from behind them. “Do you know how much C-4 it would take to blow this place up? We’d be here for weeks putting it in place.”

“Are we done?” Thompson asked.

Greer turned. “With the computer work, yeah. Now we grab the device Kael asked for and get out of here.”

“Which way is north?” Martinez asked.

Greer looked back at the gray facility hologram as a reference. “North would be … right over there.”

Thompson followed Greer’s finger and crossed the room to a panel on the wall. Martinez joined him and the two soldiers pushed inward. The wall panel slid upward and disappeared into the ceiling, driven by some hidden power.

“There it is,” Greer said, walking over to join them and pointing at the segmented cube of white that sat amidst the vertical bundles of clear tubing. Multicolored light pulsed through what looked like fiber optic cables. Greer reached up and took hold of the cube, pulling gently. “He said it was supposed to look like it was attached, but—”

The cube popped out and was suddenly resting in Greer’s palm.

“Looks like a Rubik’s Cube,” Martinez observed.

“We’re at thirty minutes,” Thompson cautioned.

Greer flipped it over in his hand and stuffed it into a zippered pocket, noting that one of its faces was dented inward. “Alright boys. We’re sprinting out of here. I want to be topside in fifteen.”

“Copy that,” Thompson and Martinez replied.

Falton glanced nervously at them all.

C HAPTER 11

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

Two soft knocks sounded at the door to Rugov’s old office. Helmsley looked up from the desk, and before he had a chance to respond, Marshall stepped into the room and closed the door.

“How is it going in Antarctica?”

“Good. Greer just checked in,” Helmsley replied. “They’re almost back to the research station, and I have a chopper picking them up in just over three hours.”

“Excellent. Were there any complications?” she asked.

“No, thankfully. How’s your part coming?”

Marshall sat down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. “That’s what I wanted to discuss. This situation at the UN has become a major road block.”

Helmsley sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

“As you know, Armaros’ alert about a global terrorist organization made its way through the western nations and most of Europe before our disinformation slowed it down. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. The Russians and the Chinese got wind of it and, as you can imagine, were deeply concerned about the appearance and then sudden disappearance of something that large. The Security Council kicked it around for about eight weeks without resolving whether there actually was a threat. So the General Assembly was called to an emergency session, and that’s when the whole thing blew up. Several representatives from Middle East nations seemed to have been primed for the discussion, and they quickly painted the issue as an excuse for the West to drum up support for more intrusive policies. To them it was just an elaborate attempt by the West to fabricate an enemy that didn’t exist. Of course, that only got the representatives from the West in an uproar over the reality of an Islamic extremist threat, and suddenly the whole discussion began taking on religious undertones. Now it’s just going back and forth.”

“And everyone is on high alert?” Helmsley guessed.

“Exactly. I don’t see a way to successfully bring Null out of hiding unless this problem is resolved.”

Helmsley leaned forward with his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands together. “I’ll have to continue bringing resources online in a localized manner, only as we need them. I’ll try to keep it minimal, but that just means we’re not going to have any protection against Armaros if anything goes wrong with this mission. It’ll be a landslide.”

Marshall nodded. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Helmsley just smiled. It was his responsibility to think of everything that could go wrong, and hope wasn’t usually a factor in his decision-making process. But this mission was different. There were very few contingency plans. He was counting heavily on all the teams and individuals involved.

The intercom beeped, and Helmsley looked down to see the incoming call from the command room. He tapped the button. “Go ahead.”

“Sir, we found the shipment.” It was Ruslan’s voice.

Helmsley glanced up at Marshall while his hand hovered in place over the intercom button. “Where?”

“The Port of Kandla, India,” the deputy director replied.

“We’ll be right there,” Helmsley replied before hanging up the call.

~

The command room was on the same level as Rugov’s office. When Helmsley entered through the double mahogany doors with Marshall behind him, he saw images of container ships and cranes against a hazy sky sprawled across the displays on the wall. They stopped at the top of the gradually descending central path, while Ruslan walked across the room to join them.

“Sir. Ma’am. With a known destination and a shipment of this size, there were only so many routes that could be used. I had surveillance personnel at all the major shipping ports and most of the land routes also. My operative in Kandla just checked in and relayed his findings. One of the terminals was evacuated of personnel and security yesterday. He began watching it more closely, and a ship came into port late last night. After it docked, they began unloading immediately. By this morning, twenty-four containers had been loaded directly onto trucks.”

Helmsley scanned the images on the walls. “Did they have their own security?”

“Yes, sir. Over there,” Ruslan pointed.

Helmsley looked to the right side of the room where several photos were being displayed. A long-range, telephoto lens had captured men in combat gear standing guard. Even without the presence of dock personnel to use as a comparison, he could tell that the men were taller than average. And they were obviously heavily armed. This was a direct hit. “Good work, Ruslan.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Can you backtrack the SAT footage and find out where that container ship came from?” Marshall asked.

“We already did, ma’am. It left Santos, Brazil twenty days ago.”

“And before that?”

“We’re working on that now.”

Brazil? Helmsley thought. Kael had told them where the integration testing would take place, but he hadn’t known where Armaros’ weapons manufacturing was taking place. None of Armaros’ known facilities in Brazil fit the profile that Kael had described. Was it possible they had overlooked one?

“Okay. Get in contact with your operative,” Helmsley continued. “We’re going to have him reveal his surveillance location in a subtle way. It can’t look obvious, but we need to get the attention of those guards. Make sure he has multiple escape routes identified before he does it. And get SAT coverage over the area beforehand. We need to let him know the moment any of those soldiers starts moving in pursuit. He cannot get captured. We only get one shot at this, and we can’t screw it up.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll set it up and notify you as soon as we’re ready.”

Helmsley allowed himself a smile as he checked his watch. “We’ll be in our offices.”

Ruslan nodded, then moved toward the field operations group to set the next part of the plan in motion.

KANDLA PORT, GUJARAT, INDIA

General Skradek sat in the passenger seat of the transport vehicle that led the convoy as it rumbled down the road away from the port. As the twenty-four armored carriers headed away from the industrial sector, the General was scanning the flat and dusty terrain to the west, where a densely populated residential area spread across the landscape. Although some places on the earth at this latitude were through the first third of their winter season, it was already nearing thirty degrees Celsius here and waves of heat radiated upward from the ground, distorting the visual data he was collecting. With the first rays of morning sun coming up over the port, flashes of reflected light pulsed in the distance. Each position was catalogued and compared with the location and movement of the convoy in combination with the sun’s position. Most of the positions only pulsed once, indicating a reflection from a stationary object with an east-facing surface. A handful of them pulsed multiple times, indicating a moving object or one with multiple facets or a curved surface. These were flagged and compared with satellite data to determine if they were harmless objects like the windshields of vehicles or the complex roof of a Hindu temple. All of this data was processed in the background of the Skradek’s mind as he surveyed their land route through India in a northeasterly direction toward China. Suddenly, a satellite window opened at the bottom of his vision with a flashing red indicator. The General expanded the viewport to half of his available vision and saw that one of the cataloged locations was reflecting light in an unnatural pattern. Unnatural, but not unusual.

Skradek acknowledged the alarm and increased the zoom of the satellite feed. Over three kilometers away, a man was crouched at the inside corner of a second-story rooftop. He had his arms propped on the outer wall and was pointing something dark and conical-shaped in their direction.

[Contact: enemy surveillance, 3.2 kilometers due west. S112, S924: pursue and acquire,] he ordered.

[Yes, sir,] came the response.

Skradek slowed the convoy to fifty-five kilometers per hour. From his side view mirror, he watched the door of a transport at the middle of the convoy swing open. Two soldiers jumped out and rolled along the ground until they regained their footing. They took off at a full sprint toward the target.

The satellite footage showed the man on the roof suddenly standing up and putting away his camera. He knew he’d been spotted. He jogged through a doorway on the building’s west side. Skradek zoomed the perspective outward and watched the exits of the building. A few seconds later, the man came out of the street level exit on the south side and turned west at a quicker pace than he had been moving before.

The scouts crossed barren fields, paved roads, parking lots, train tracks, and clusters of brush before reaching the residential area in five minutes and twenty seconds. Not a record pace, but over three kilometers in full battle gear would have made it an impossible feat for any human. By the time they reached the place where the enemy had ducked into another building, the foot traffic in the area had multiplied their possible targets into the thousands.

Two viewscreens appeared on opposite sides of the Skradek’s vision, showing the perspectives from the eyes of both scouts. The crowded marketplace was a teeming mass of humans walking in every direction. Even after filtering out females, children, and men with different body masses, there were still two hundred and ninety-three possible targets, the majority of which were moving away from the area and farther into the city.

[We lost him, sir,] they both reported.

[Return to the convoy,] the General replied. There was nothing to be done at this point but to report the morning’s activities.

HONG KONG, CHINA

Armaros could feel the presence of his assistant standing beside the pool, but he completed his turn and pushed off from the wall anyway. His body slid through the water. The muffled swoosh of bubbles sounded in his ears. With minimal movement or effort, he crossed half the length of the pool before coming to the surface and resuming his freestyle stroke. A few seconds later, he touched the edge of the pool and let his feet drift to the floor before standing up in the shallow water.

This pool was significantly smaller and shallower than the one he had owned in Costa Rica, but this was an amenity for the businesses occupying the building and had been constructed with the utmost care. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the harbor, and marble walls in a three-dimensional mosaic texture surrounded high-end outdoor furniture. If Armaros had been able to derive pleasure from such things anymore, he might have been impressed.

As the water shed from his skin, he remained stationary in the pool and waited for his assistant to walk along its edge.

“The colonels made contact in Shenzhen.”

“What were the results?” Armaros asked.

“Ten scouts, seven lieutenants, and one captain were terminated.”

Armaros realized that the numbers perfectly accounted for the guards who went missing in northern Europe and Russia as well. The problem had certainly grown beyond expectation, but it had finally reached an end.

His assistant’s face was grim. “Before they were terminated, the liabilities destroyed all of the productions lines, the in-process soldiers, and the raw materials. The facility is no longer operational.”

Armaros looked down at the water and his hand moving through it. It reminded him of several of the wet processing steps on the production line, where living tissues were forced to adapt to their electromechanical counterparts. Decades of work were now gone. When he looked up again, he noticed that his assistant hadn’t moved a muscle.

“What else?”

“The shipment moved away from port less than an hour ago. They’re on schedule, but the convoy encountered some surveillance along the way. The general’s report states that it was one man observing from a residential area three kilometers away. Two scouts pursued the individual but lost him in the outdoor market. I have the SAT footage ready for viewing in your office when you’re ready.”

Armaros nodded then turned to face the other direction as he lowered his position in the water.

The assistant took the hint and headed for the door.

Armaros inhaled, held his breath, and slipped below the surface. The sounds of the world disappeared inside the liquid environment. His body went into motion and his mind into problem-solving mode.

You’re watching Kokabiel. You’re watching my shipment. You’ve destroyed my ability to produce more guards. Sariel, what are you doing? Are you even aware of what you’re interfering with? Do you realize the magnitude of your treachery? No, I don’t think you do. You were always far too optimistic about your chances. You are woefully outmatched here. You cannot even hope to stop what has been set into motion. Of course, you are welcome to try, but you will die just the same.

When Armaros’ mouth broke the surface of the crystal blue water, snatching a breath before disappearing again, it was formed into a smile. There was a confrontation coming, one that hadn’t been seen in the world of men for many thousands of years. And the exhilaration of that reality made Armaros’ arms reach farther, his legs kick harder.

C HAPTER 12

THE INSTITUTE FOR MOLECULAR BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH

BERN, SWITZERLAND

The IMBR’s director of research received an email from the office of the board of directors in Zurich, detailing the communications upgrades that would be taking place at his facility. The array of satellite and radar equipment on the roof of both buildings required additional grounding and shielding to comply with the latest regulations coming from the Federal Office of Communications. The notification included the name of the company subcontracted for the hardware upgrades, the identity of the technicians performing the work, and files for the employees from the IMBR’s sister branch in Strasbourg who would oversee the project. As a precaution, the facility’s security personnel would be temporarily replaced by a team with more specialized training.

As a subsidiary of BioSynthe Global, the IMBR was on the cutting edge of technology, and the director had learned over the years that these types of interruptions were commonplace for an organization such as theirs. Without the slightest hesitation, he sent out a company-wide email to notify his employees of the upgrades and to set their expectations for seeing a few new faces around the facility. The notification came well before the director began seeing the changes unfold, and during the last several weeks, he had been doing his best to stay out of the way and keep his research team focused on their work.

Sean stood on the gravel roof of the IMBR watching Null’s TECH personnel installing higher-capacity cabling to connect the antennae array to Kokabiel’s server farm under the field northwest of the building. The day was frigid and gray with overhanging clouds, but there had been enough of a break in the snow in the last few days to allow their plans to move forward. One of the specialists pulled his facemask into place before lighting his welding torch. Sean watched the man adjust the needle valves on the torch to achieve a blue flame, but had to turn away when the torch was put to work. The brilliant sparks that flew in every direction were too bright to watch without eye protection.

Adair also turned his head, squinting at the intensity of the process. “It’s amazing,” he said. “It reminds me of a blacksmith. Bright and loud.”

Sean grinned. “My dad used to weld when he was working on cars. He let Ryan try it a few times.” Adair’s expression started to change, and Sean knew the old man was about to ask him something about his family. “How’s the thermal shielding coming along?” he added quickly. He didn’t feel like having a heavy conversation at the moment, and shouldn’t have mentioned his dad and brother in the first place.

Adair’s face looked sad all of a sudden. “Uh … They’re considering waiting to set off the charges,” he answered. “There’s still a concern about the air temperature getting too hot in the server room. They might be able to remedy it by installing some ventilation to get the excess heat outside, but then it would create a thermal plume. They’re discussing it with Helmsley now to assess how much of a risk it would be. We don’t fully understand what types of things Armaros is monitoring around the world, so it may have to wait until after Kael has Armaros contained.”

Sean nodded and stole a glance at the welding taking place across the roof. A minute of silence passed between them, and Sean wondered when the personal questions would begin. Thankfully, they never did, and he eventually found himself looking up at the cloudy sky, wondering about the nature of Armaros’ network. Did he have his own satellites? Or did he just hijack bandwidth from the ones already in orbit around the earth? Either way, it would all come to an end soon. Hopefully.

“Are you ready for phase two?” Adair asked.

Sean thought about the next part of their mission and the technical information they’d both been studying to prepare for it. “Not yet, but I will be when the time comes. I never thought of myself as an actor before.”

Adair smiled. “I think you’d like Bastul.”

“Yeah?”

Adair nodded. “The Empire as a whole is more … serious, yet ready for laughter at the same time.”

“You don’t like it here, do you?” Sean asked.

Adair considered the question for a moment. “It’s not that I don’t like it here. I’ve met some amazing people, like you. I’ve seen things that couldn’t even be imagined by anyone there. But this world isn’t my home. I prefer a simpler life, and this …”

“Yeah, this isn’t simple,” Sean agreed. “Kael’s plan makes my head hurt. But it might work. And that would simplify things here.”

“I suppose,” Adair replied, looking out at the horizon.

Sean stared at his friend for a moment. A man from another world. He almost didn’t notice the plugs in Adair’s head anymore. Without those, he could pass for any ordinary person. But the fact was, he was a long way from home and was fortunate to have family waiting for him on the other side. “You’ll see them again.”

Adair turned with a puzzled look on his face.

“Your family,” Sean clarified.

Adair raised his head slightly, but his expression didn’t change.

“I know. I’m the last person to talk about destiny and hope. But there’s something big going on here. All this stuff with Armaros. I don’t know if I believe all the spiritual mumbo-jumbo you guys have been talking about, but Ryan was right about one thing. Life’s not bad all the time. Whether it’s odds or karma, if anyone deserves a break, it’s you. You’ll see your family again.”

This time Adair smiled.

“And if you don’t, I might just have to jump off a bridge,” Sean added.

Adair laughed a hearty bellow, and when he finally got himself under control, he looked at Sean with an amused expression. “That was quite possibly the most convoluted and contradictory offer of encouragement I’ve ever received.”

Sean thought of how to reply and quickly settled on, “You’re welcome.”

OFF THE COAST OF WESTERN AUSTRALIA

THE INDIAN OCEAN

The bubbles breaking the ocean surface caught the moonlight. The pattern condensed until the water seemed to boil in a concentrated spot just aft of the rigid-hulled inflatable boat. Martinez came up first, his breathing hissing in pulses with pauses in between, like Darth Vader.

Greer leaned over and grabbed his hand.

As Martinez was pulled into the boat, Thompson reached out for Falton, who had come up second. It took much longer to get the TECH specialist into the boat, a testament to Martinez’s expertise in the water. As a former Navy SEAL, he’d been the obvious choice to lead the dive operation.

“Are we good?” Greer asked.

Martinez put his thumb up before spitting out his regulator and peeling his mask away from his face. “We’re good. The tether is anchored directly to the rock, so it’ll withstand just about anything that could happen.”

Greer looked over at Falton. Thompson was helping him remove the equipment from his face. Even in the moonlight, Greer could see that the man was exhausted.

Falton laid his head back against the hull and sucked in large gulps of air. “You guys … do this kind … of thing all the time?” he asked between breaths.

“Yep,” Thompson replied, unclipping the tank straps from the specialist’s shoulders. “But we’re usually dodging bullets while we do it.”

Falton grinned and closed his eyes.

“Is the tap in place?” Greer asked.

Falton nodded.

“And the seawater won’t interfere?”

“No,” he answered. “The seals effectively create a small chamber that we purged with nitrogen. So when it’s activated …” He paused to take another breath. “It’ll drill into the line.”

Greer nodded and looked to the bow of the boat where the tip of the antenna could be seen over the hull. From its small buoy on the surface, a signal cable ran down through the middle of a tether, the two cables separating a hundred meters down where the tether was anchored to a rock ledge. The signal cable then ran to a vampire tap secured to the outside of a trunk line for Armaros’ network. One of his primary routing stations was located in a remote part of Western Australia, and the hard line ran from there, across the bottom of the Indian Ocean, to supply Asia and Eastern Europe. This particular location was where the hard line ended its shallowest run and plunged another thirty-eight hundred meters down the side of a shelf where it was no longer accessible without a submersible or some other equipment that would make their objective impossible to achieve.

“Alright. Let’s get this thing buttoned up,” Greer said.

Falton nodded, then slowly got to his feet and made his way to the bow. He sat down on the hull and picked up a waterproof laptop before peeling off his gloves. He typed for a couple minutes then disconnected the cable from the buoy. “Okay. You can seal it up.”

Greer exchanged places with the specialist and leaned over the hull to replace the seal over the electronics inside the buoy. When it was done, he unclipped the buoy from the boat and set it in the water. Looking back at Thompson, he said, “All clear. Let’s move.”

Standing at the controls, Thompson fired up the engine and gently throttled up as he turned the boat east.

C HAPTER 13

AKSAI CHIN

DISPUTED BORDER TERRITORY BETWEEN CHINA AND INDIA

General Skradek was aware of the incoming aircraft long before the deep sound waves from their propellers nearly shook the earth. The sun had just set, and the overcast skies of the remote valley were lit with the eerie glow of twilight. Three C-130 Hercules transports appeared low on the southern horizon, following the flat and wide terrain of the valley as it climbed into the desolate mountains. The planes continued their low approach until they touched down on the vast fields that spread for kilometers in every direction between the surrounding snow-covered peaks. Great clouds of water vapor swirled beneath the planes as their landing gear disturbed the melted remains of the plowed runways.

From the passenger seat of a Humvee rumbling across the plains, Skradek inspected the aircraft as he approached. Inside the metallic green outer shells, he detected structural beams, electrical wiring, and a plethora of mechanical and hydraulic components. But what interested him the most were the dense concentrations of green designators that seemed to float inside the planes, like fireflies inside jars. There were too many of them in the three confined spaces to count them all, but Skradek assumed there were one hundred and ninety-two, based on the aircraft capacity specifications for armed soldiers. By the time he stepped out of the vehicle, the cargo ramps were down and Armaros’ personal guards were stepping out and forming themselves into orderly ranks. Combined with Skradek’s own division of one hundred soldiers, already scattered across this covert base and protecting its most sensitive points, there were now almost three hundred guards at this installation. The fact that three quarters of Armaros’ personal guard force was in one place at the same time indicated that this mission was more important than anything they had done to date.

Armaros himself came down the ramp last, flanked by two other generals.

“We were not expecting a visit from you, sir.”

“It was not planned,” Armaros replied, stopping in front of Skradek.

The General looked briefly at his colleagues before addressing his superior again. “Is an attack imminent, sir?”

Armaros was looking out across the slush-covered plains and the sheets of rain that were falling in several locations. “Yes,” he answered without making eye contact. “It may only be one person, or an entire army, but you are not to engage unless I give the order.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I trust you have the base secured?”

“Of course, sir. My men are distributed throughout the assembly area and other facilities, as well as hidden observation points in the surrounding terrain. The rest of the base is being monitored by your conventional forces.”

Armaros finally made eye contact enough to offer a curt nod. “These two divisions will provide redundancy for your security plan. Confer with the generals to determine how they should be assigned.”

“Yes, sir.”

Armaros began walking toward the Humvee as droplets of rain started to hit the snow on the ground.

General Skradek issued a mental order to open access to his security plan, and it took all of three seconds for him and his colleagues to review it and reach a consensus for the distribution of the reinforcements. At once, the ranks of Armaros’ guards began marching toward their posts, their orders having been sent without the nuisance of audible instructions.

The two generals disengaged from the security plan and followed their superior toward the Humvee. Skradek closed the plan that was stored on Armaros’ network, but lingered a moment, suddenly more conscious of the system’s presence than before. It had always been there, the most useful of any tools, ready to accept or provide information instantaneously. It was as much a part of Skradek’s self as his hand or any other body part. It was a shared consciousness between all of Armaros’ guards, and now, it seemed to beckon him, grasping hold of his attention in a way that it had never done before. And as Skradek became conscious of this, he also felt something happening within him. A changing. A feeling of vertigo—of becoming infinitesimally small and unquantifiably large at the same time. As this fascinating experience consumed the last shreds of his attention, a distant part of his mind realized that something dangerous was taking place. But before that thought could materialize into action, General Skradek ceased to exist. His body had already become the habitation for another consciousness.

The Humvee left the main airstrip and entered a massive hangar that was set into the mountain range on the east side of the base. When it came to a stop, Armaros stepped out onto the concrete floor and surveyed the final staging area for his experimental aircraft. It was now empty. The fueling tanks and delivery system that normally occupied the north end of the hangar had also been removed. The project that would launch from this facility in two days had no need of combustible fuels and was so large that it would take up every centimeter of space inside the hangar. Along the ceiling, engineers were using catwalks to run final inspections on all the joints and regulators of the utility lines that filled the strut channels hovering over the floor in a staggered grid pattern. At the far end, sparks fell to the ground as a technician made last-minute modifications to a gas line. Everything appeared to be on schedule.

Flanked by a trio of his highest-ranking guards, Armaros walked to the southeast corner of the building and descended a set of wide steps leading beneath the hangar floor. A subway station opened up before him with a series of cars waiting on a rail system that descended at a 20 percent grade. This system was used to transport personnel and small cargo fifty kilometers below the earth’s surface where the Eurasian and Indian continental plates converged to form a crust that was roughly twice the thickness of other locations across the earth. On the north side of the tunnel, windows looked across to a parallel tunnel that was as wide as the hangar itself, used as a birthing canal to transport new creations from the bowels of the earth into the light of day.

Armaros and his generals stepped onto the rail car and took seats as the doors slid shut. A slight shudder preceded a momentary weightlessness that was felt before the balance of the transport equalized. It took thirty seconds for the train to reach its top speed of three hundred and twenty kilometers per hour which allowed a smooth transition for passengers and cargo alike while keeping the overall trip duration to just a few minutes. When the rail car came to a gentle stop at the bottom of the descent, the doors slid open and an electronic cart was waiting with a human driver to transport them to the assembly area.

A labyrinth of tunnels, stations, warehouses, and manufacturing bays slid by in a fluorescent-lit blur. Groups of guards were already posted at every intersection, choke point, and elevated position. With the arrival of Armaros’ reinforcements, the facility would literally be overflowing with protection in the next few minutes. And that was in addition to the US Special Forces teams from different branches that had been assembled for this top-secret event.

Having made their way to the primary manufacturing area, Armaros and his generals stepped off the cart and walked inside. The gigantic chamber that spread out before them was filled with moving robotic arms, hanging cables, and pulses of light. Sudden hisses of compressed gas and muffled voices rang out over the pervasive low-end sound of air handlers continually running to maintain sufficient air quality for the human workers. An acidic, coppery aroma hung in the air, indicating that the purification system was fighting a losing battle.

It was an audiovisual cacophony that seemed to orbit the air-based battle station sitting in the middle of the facility, like planets around a center of gravity. At the moment, the station was in its aerodynamic form, but as Armaros watched, portions of it morphed to expose weapons systems, communications equipment, and a host of other tools that made it the most advanced rapid-assault system in this world. And if the control module integration was successful, it would also become the most feared weapon in the Marotru’s arsenal. A living, biomechanical being that bridged the impossibly large chasm between the Temporal and Eternal realms. It would require a complex intellect from the highest order of demonic powers to inhabit its nervous system—a being that had no temporal equivalent until this moment.

“Final electrical tests are being conducted now,” General Skradek pointed out. “Artificial intelligence subsystem testing will begin this evening and last through tomorrow, at which time we’ll be ready for integration. The current schedule allows for a buffer of twelve hours to address any complications, but there haven’t been any to this point.”

Armaros allowed himself a smile. “Thank you, General. When the control module arrives tomorrow, Kokabiel will arrive with it. He is not to know that I am here or see any indication that security has been reinforced. Do not share any operational details with him. He must stay focused on the task at hand without distractions. Have your men give him whatever he needs, and don’t interfere.”

“Yes, sir,” Skradek answered.

MOSS AIRPORT

RYGGE, NORWAY

The flight from Kokabiel’s estate to the airport took only seventeen minutes. The lowlying clouds ruined visibility, but the trip was otherwise free of obstacles. Nevertheless, Kael’s heart was beating fast. It had been a long winter going through the motions of Kokabiel’s life. With his parts of the plan concentrated at the beginning and end of their timeline, his role over the last few months was one of endurance, to completely place his trust in other people and hope that the results would turn out correctly. In many ways, this battle was more foreign and painful than any other he’d yet endured, made especially difficult by all the hours he’d had to contemplate how high the stakes were. He was used to direct action against an enemy. But thwarting the invasion of the Empire and the subsequent confrontation with Rameel seemed like a warm-up exercise compared to this effort. The technology of this world, and the consequences of the enemy’s elaborate operations, insulated it against such a direct attack. The only consolation was that this conflict was so advanced and covert as to be inaccessible to the general public. There would be no evacuation of cities and displaced citizens here. The risk of involving whole communities of innocent people didn’t apply.

The other side of that coin, however, was the global impact if this complex plan didn’t succeed. Instead of the fate of a few hundred thousand Orudan citizens hanging in the balance, this conflict involved billions from every city on the earth. Life as they knew it would be forever changed if Armaros couldn’t be stopped.

Kael shook his head and realized that he was allowing his imagination to get the best of him. Right now, he just needed to focus on the immediate issues and trust that everything else was in place.

The chopper set down on a runway at the southeast end of the airport, the most isolated place on the military-controlled property. A few hundred meters away, a massive transport plane sat facing northwest. Its four propellers were already spinning as it prepared for its post-refueling takeoff, creating a deafening hum that only added to its green, insect-like appearance.

“Umbrella, sir?” Kael’s head of security asked. He had the rain shield in one hand and a submachine gun in the other.

Kael looked at the droplets beading up on the chopper’s window. The drizzle seemed steady, but light. “We’ll run,” he answered.

The man nodded then grabbed a handle and slid open the door. A rush of cold air entered the cabin while the security team exited to establish a perimeter. Kael stepped out and his men surrounded him with weapons up and facing outward like spokes from a hub. With a practiced selfish flair, Kael began jogging toward the plane before the leader indicated a state of readiness.

“Let’s move!” the leader yelled to his men. They began running after Kael, struggling to come back together into a complete shield around their client.

The cargo door at the back of the plane was down, and Kael jogged onto dry pavement beneath the tail of the transport. He stopped for a moment to brush the droplets off the lapels of his expensive suit, and then he continued at a walk up the metal ramp.

The cargo opening was flanked by two gigantic soldiers in full combat gear. Each one held a weapon across his chest that was unlike any of the guns held by Kokabiel’s security team. The molded composite construction looked like some type of underwater creature. The last time Kael had seen this type of soldier was in Helsinki, and it had taken every ounce of his strength to bring that man to the ground.

“The cargo is ready for inspection, sir,” one of Armaros’ guards said. His voice was low and steady, lacking any indicators of emotion.

“And my engineers?”

“They’re with the cargo, sir.”

Kael nodded and looked back to the security team leader. “Put my personal effects inside and maintain this position.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied with a determined look on his face. He spoke quietly with his men, and one of the soldiers carrying a travel case went around the side of the plane while the others fanned out and dropped to their knees. Their weapons tracked along the horizon in all directions.

Kael was struck by how human these men seemed, even as highly trained and disciplined as they were, when compared to the behemoths standing on either side of the cargo door. Before his observation had a chance to manifest in his expression or body language, Kael quickly turned and marched up the ramp, past the guards.

The inside of the cargo area had been walled off with radiation-shielding panels that were connected to form a temporary housing around the nervous-system modules. The cargo filled the width and height of the plane, with only a narrow walking passage around one side that led Kael forward to the monitoring equipment. A rapid clicking noise could be heard from around the corner, and when he reached the end of the walkway and turned, he was greeted by two BioSynthe employees in yellow radiation suits. Geiger counters were attached at their chests, and each was holding a large, electronic device with a tube attached to the end. It appeared that they had just completed one of their hourly examinations of the cargo. One still had his face shield in place, but the other had removed his along with the respirator that accompanied it.

Sean’s face was a welcome sight, and Kael had to restrain himself from showing excitement. “Is everything in order?” he asked, sounding as formal as he could.

“Yes, sir,” Sean answered. His serious expression never faltered. “No evidence of leakage.”

Kael turned to make eye contact with his father, whose temples were safely hidden by his face mask. “Has the cargo been exposed to any mechanical stress?”

“No, sir,” Adair replied. “There were a few minor bumps during takeoff and landing, but the cargo is still secured.”

“Very good. My security team and I will be with you for the remainder of the trip. I’ll be up near the cockpit. If any maintenance parameters fall outside of their limits, inform me immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied.

It was painful to be so close to his father and to turn and walk away without embracing him or even exchanging a greeting, but Armaros’ guards were capable of hearing everything. Whether they chose to listen or not was beside the point. Kael couldn’t risk any mistakes, no matter how small.

C HAPTER 14

AKSAI CHIN

Kokabiel’s plane touched down at noon on a north-to-south runway in the midst of a rainstorm. The flashing lights from a small convoy of waiting cargo and transport vehicles reflected off the wet tarmac. When the plane had taxied to an unloading position, Kael moved to the rear of the cargo area with the two BioSynthe employees, his security team, and two of Armaros’ guards.

The cargo door dropped away from the plane, like a hand extended in offering. As soon as it touched the wet pavement, a crowd of base personnel came aboard with tools in hand to dismantle the radiation shielding and to transfer the nervous-system modules to a vehicle.

Kael stood aside and observed the transfer, paying particular attention to the men in radiation suits who oversaw the whole operation. Adair and Sean were tasked with monitoring the cargo to ensure that its vital signs, being tracked by a host of attached equipment, stayed within acceptable limits. To perform their job successfully required that they stay with the modules at all times, including riding in the back of the cargo vehicle after the units were loaded with a forklift. Besides Kael, they were the only two people present who understood that the modules were not nearly as sensitive as they were made to appear.

The modules were transported across the runway to a hangar set into the eastern mountains of the base, where they were unloaded and visually inspected. From there, they were transferred to a rail-based cargo-and-passenger system that descended deep underground. As Kael shepherded the precious material to a testing room adjacent to a gigantic assembly area, he was careful to fully utilize the obsessive tendencies and mannerisms that sprang into his mind from the memories he had stolen. He knew how hard Kokabiel had worked to get to this point, and for the sake of the guards and other men around him, it made sense to let it show.

As the BioSynthe employees removed the portable monitoring devices, Kael connected the in-house equipment and began a parametric analysis to determine how the biological tissue inside was handling the stress of transport. The supercomputer installed by Armaros’ team met all of Kokabiel’s specifications. As it ran through the program that Kael had just installed, employing algorithms more complex than anything humans had yet conceived, Kael was intensely focused on his work, pretending not to notice the three Special Forces members standing guard around the room. They were in addition to Armaros’ guards who were never to let the modules out of their sight. Minutes turned into hours, and by the time the initial testing was completed without problems, it was well after midnight. Kael rubbed his eyes and looked up at his employees, noticing that they appeared fatigued as well.

“The next round of testing will take until morning before results are available,” he said, turning to the nearest guard. “I assume you have somewhere we can get a meal and a few hours of sleep?”

Armaros’ guards both turned to look at the senior member of the Special Forces team, as if to imply that playing host wasn’t their responsibility.

A human soldier in a black Combat Uniform stepped forward. “Sir, your living quarters are nearby. Your personal effects have already been transferred there, and we’ll escort you and your employees as soon as you’re ready.”

The pair of men in radiation suits both nodded.

“We’re ready now,” Kael replied.

The man kept his finger on the trigger of the assault rifle hanging across his chest and reached up with his other hand to the radio mounted at his shoulder. “River Blue to Treehouse.”

“This is Treehouse. Go ahead, River Blue,” came the reply.

“Moving Eagle One to Nest,” he added.

“Copy that.”

The man locked eyes with Kael again. “Right this way, sir.”

The three soldiers escorted Kael and his employees back to the surface hangar, where a Humvee was waiting to take them half a mile south to a cluster of barracks. The soldiers were silent as they exited the vehicle and led the way down a covered walkway between two rows of buildings. Rain pounded the roof and drowned out most noises, making conversation impossible. They entered the third building on the right and walked down to the end of a hallway, stopping at the last few doors. “Food and drinks are in the fridge,” the team leader said, nodding to the last two rooms on the right side. “And there’s a microwave if you need to heat anything.”

Sean opened the nearest door and walked into his room without a word.

Adair nodded and stepped over to the other door.

The team leader continued a few steps farther and opened the last door, flipping on the lights before Kael entered the room.

The other two soldiers came in behind him.

“This is the best we have on base,” the team leader continued. “Kitchen is over there. Same routine as I told your employees. Your bed is through that door, and there’s a shower and bathroom off to the left.”

Kael nodded, but his attention was focused on scanning the room with his sense for any audiovisual equipment. Within seconds, he found a microphone and a wide-angle micro-camera inside the light fixture, centrally located to capture anything that happened inside the main area of the living quarters. He turned around to face the team leader. “What about my clothing?” he asked, while quickly moving only his eyes upward.

Greer, standing directly beneath the light fixture, winked to indicate that he understood. “This way, sir,” he replied, walking toward the bedroom. “All of your items are here on the bed.”

Kael followed, and when they had a wall between them and the camera, Greer reached into his uniform and pulled out a white, segmented cube, setting it near Kael’s travel case.

Kael looked into the eyes of his friend and took a deep, silent breath. Once again, he was trapped inside the impersonation of Kokabiel, but the feeling of loneliness that had defined the last few months of his life was suddenly gone.

Greer nodded, and his eyes seemed to say, It’s good to see you, too.

Kael followed him back out to the main room where Thompson and Martinez were still standing. “If you don’t hear from us by zero-six-hundred, wake us up,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Greer replied. “We’re just outside your door if you need anything.”

Kael restrained himself from expressing thanks and shut the door after his friends left the room. Evidently, Helmsley and Marshall had successfully managed to make arrangements for TAC 1 to be brought in along with the other elite units patrolling the base. It was a relief to know that the plan was working.

With the eyes and ears of security personnel hovering above him, Kael did what was expected. He ate a small meal from what was available in the fridge, turned out the lights, and went into the bedroom. But he didn’t sleep. He couldn’t have, even if he wanted to. His heart was racing. From the moment he had stepped foot on this remote base, he’d known Armaros was here. He could feel it, though he didn’t dare use his sense to search the surrounding territory. The last thing Kael wanted to do was raise Armaros’ suspicions. Armaros had to believe that he was the one doing the hunting. If he suspected for a second that there was a trap, or that he was under attack, the opportunity to steal his memory would vanish. And while Armaros’ presence was an assurance that their plan to draw out the enemy had worked, it also produced a growing sense of dread. This was the moment that they had all planned for. The moment that billions of human lives were hanging upon. The weight of Kael’s destiny had never felt so heavy, so oppressive.

First things first, Kael thought.

He picked up the white cube from the bed, using his sense in a limited manner to inspect it in the darkness. On one of its six faces, there was a slight depression the size of a thumbprint. With his other hand, Kael reached inside his suit jacket and removed a dark, crystalline sphere. He stood there for a moment, holding the two objects of immense power. One, a key crafted by Ezekiyel. The other, an ingenious device created by Kokabiel. Carefully, Kael brought his hands together and set the sphere into the crater atop the cube. It settled into position immediately, but nothing happened for several seconds. Then, without warning, the cube pulsed with blue light, and the sphere was pulled inside. One moment there were two objects, the next there was one. The only indication that something had happened was that the cube now felt warmer in his palm. Kokabiel’s device of last resort was now armed.

Kael took another deep breath and grabbed the suitcase off the bed before heading into the bathroom, where he could change into a guard’s combat uniform without alerting those watching him. But more importantly, the bathroom was where a ventilation grate would allow him to exit his room and the building without being seen.

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

Outside, the city was shrouded in darkness. Millions of tiny lights from cars, buildings, and street lamps would be fighting against the completeness of the earth’s shadow. But EOD’s command room was void of a city view and other such luxuries. It was a dungeon, whose only windows to the outside world were screens of digital information, which made all the difference. As the last of Null’s division-level command rooms, it was one of the densest configurations of data analysis on the planet. And at the moment, it was fully staffed and humming with activity.

Helmsley checked his watch and noted that it would be just before sunrise at Armaros’ hidden facility. “It’s show time, everyone!”

Marshall smiled at Helmsley before looking across the room. “Where are we with COMMS?”

“We have radio contact and we’re monitoring their security chatter now,” an analyst replied.

“SAT coverage?” Helmsley asked.

“The cloud cover moved out of the area,” another analyst replied. “We currently have visibility, and M-SPEC is coming online. But there’s a rain system moving in. We have an estimated nineteen-minute window.”

That’s not long enough, Helmsley thought. But there was no way to control the weather. “Alright. Put whatever you have up on the big screen and we’ll make the best of it.”

The largest of the wall displays suddenly came to life with a rainbow of colors. An objective data composition had been assembled, combining the unique benefits of various imaging technologies to carve out a military base from the underlying topographical map. Clusters of pixels in brilliant colors marked the location of thermal signatures—guards on patrol around the base.

“The priority alert?” Marshall called across the room.

“Ready to go, ma’am,” came the reply.

Marshall turned to Helmsley and tilted her head.

Helmsley looked at the screen. Alright, Kael. Everything is in place. Give ‘em hell!

AKSAI CHIN

After constructing a pile of rocks at the peak of the mountain, Kael draped it with the cloak that he had used in Oslo. From behind, it looked like someone was crouching in the rocks, observing the base below. The weak illusion would vanish with proximity, but Kael only needed it to work long enough for Armaros’ attention to be diverted. If he could draw his enemy up to this place and get him focused on the decoy, even for a second, he could paralyze him just like he had done with Kokabiel. Now, the only thing that remained was to reveal his presence to Armaros’ guards in a way that wouldn’t seem contrived. By the time Kael climbed down the rocky slope to the nearby road and descended a few hundred meters along it, the horizon to the east was already growing lighter around the edges of a thick cloud bank moving rapidly toward the base. It appeared that the sunrise would be blotted out by the coming storm, which would only make Kael’s decoy seem more believable.

It seemed like so long ago that he had stood in the cool sands of the Temple and announced his presence to Rameel. He had thought of it as suicide then, and it could have been. He had grossly underestimated how powerful Rameel really was. And though Kael was wiser now, less naïve about the Myndarym in general, what did he actually know about his current enemy?

Not enough, he realized, but it didn’t matter. There was only so much planning that one could do, and eventually it was time for action.

Still many kilometers away from the base and hundreds of meters above it, Kael turned around and faced north again, finally ready to initiate the sequence of events that would be the culmination of months of planning. In his mind, he pulled at the thin veil of his sense, which surrounded him, suppressing the waves of light, heat, and sound that radiated from his body. He began walking back up the road toward the peak as if he were Sariel, just arriving to conduct surveillance. The veil shrank until it was no longer around him but part of him, exposing him to the hostile environment of Armaros’ secret base and its surveillance systems.

“Perimeter Sixteen to Treehouse. I have unauthorized movement in sector delta twelve. Number of targets is unknown.”

“Copy that, Sixteen. Do not engage! Other forces are already moving in to intercept.”

Armaros, who had been listening to the communications between his human soldiers, turned off the handset and placed it on the center console. Inhabiting the body of General Skradek, Daud had also been listening.

The Humvee they were sitting in, along with the two other generals, rattled as it climbed through a canyon east of the base. The headlights revealed areas of embedded rocks and patches of scree that the vehicle was forced to traverse. Where those were absent, the soil had eroded into a washboard texture that threatened to shake the vehicle until it fell to pieces. The sorry excuse for a road cut through banks of melting snow that rose up almost ten meters on either side in some places. The slick walls, created by the rains and slow thawing during this time of year, looked like sculptures of glass. The driver was moving faster than was safe, but time was of the essence. Everyone in the vehicle had known about the unidentified presence moving up the road toward an observation point overlooking the base, and the generals had already ordered their forces to converge on the location. While a skeleton crew of Armaros’ personal guards stayed behind, the majority of the non-human soldiers were currently sprinting across the base from all directions.

It was clear to Daud that there was only a single intruder and not an invading army. What wasn’t clear was the reason for the level of reaction this visitor had provoked from Armaros. Ever since he assumed the body of Armaros’ most trusted guard, he had been studying his superior but had yet to draw any conclusions. It was becoming apparent that Daud would not get the answers he sought unless he could get Armaros alone.

The truck rounded a bend, and fifty meters ahead, two scouts could be seen running up the pass. They had been stationed in the area and were converging on the intruder.

“Right here. Stop!” Armaros ordered.

The driver stomped on the brake, and the truck slid across the mud and loose rock.

“Order your men to form a perimeter, but do not engage,” Armaros said, looking back from the front seat. “This is my fight!”

The generals glanced at each other before issuing the mental orders.

Up ahead, the two scouts stopped running. Two more had climbed down onto the road from the eastern slope.

Armaros opened his door and stepped out.

Daud and the generals followed his lead.

Armaros walked around to the cargo area at the back of the vehicle and opened the tailgate. He grabbed a long, hard-shell case and pulled it toward himself before unlocking it.

Daud summoned an overmap of the base and could see the designators of Armaros’ guards getting closer. Most were behind their position, running up the road that he and the generals were standing on. Some guards, choosing the most direct route, were scaling the mountain, braving the snow-covered rocks and wide swaths of mud and loose gravel to reach the higher elevation. Several hundred meters ahead, a single thermal signature had reached the peak of the mountain and likely had no idea that he was being surrounded.

Armaros opened the case.

What little light was coming through the cloudy sunrise seemed to be amplified by the objects inside the case. Daud watched Armaros carefully remove a long, slender spear. Its shaft and multi-barbed head were of a single, dark material that Daud couldn’t identify with a scan. A materials analysis returned no results when trying to match the object’s composition with anything on the periodic table of elements. Before Armaros closed the container, Daud noted what appeared to be a samurai sword without the hand guard and an elaborate dagger, both made from the same mysterious substance.

Armaros turned away from the truck and dropped his arm. The spear drove into the packed soil and rock as if it were nothing but sand. Armaros left the ancient weapon standing there like a flagpole before removing his suit jacket and letting it fall to the ground.

The first group of lower-ranking guards arrived from the road behind. Their boots splashed through the mud and scraped across the rocks as they slowed to a walk and split into three groups, finally standing at attention behind their respective commanding officers.

Armaros loosened his tie and pulled it away from his neck in one swift movement. The silk decoration that humans found so distinguished dropped from his fingers and landed in a coil in the mud.

Now the slopes on either side of the road were alive with activity. Scouts, lieutenants, captains, and colonels were coming through the melting slush to gather along the road in front of them. Dozens more were sprinting up the road from behind.

The thermal signature of the intruder had stopped moving now. But there were guard designators all around it, forming a circle of containment. Presumably, the intruder now knew he was surrounded and was trying to stay hidden.

Armaros unbuttoned his white shirt and cast it aside. He slipped off his leather shoes and removed his socks, leaving them on the ground as well.

Daud pulled up the current air temperature and noted that it was forty-one degrees Fahrenheit, or five degrees Celsius. Although Armaros’ guards could withstand extreme temperatures, it was much too cold for a human being to go without clothing for very long.

Armaros, now bare except for his pants, knelt down and ran his palms through the cold, wet soil, digging his fingers into it. Then his hands went to his face, leaving broad strokes of gray and brown that ran from his forehead down to his chin. As he repeated the process, applying soil to his chest, abdomen, and arms, he began to make a sound that was something between speaking and singing. A low, guttural chant.

Daud’s audio input program scrolled through all known languages but failed to find a match.

Armaros stood up and pulled his spear from the ground before raising his arms and head to the sky, his breath floating upward in gusts of white.

Daud scanned his body temperature and found it to be normal, despite the fact that his superior should have been shivering by now.

Armaros turned back to lock eyes with his generals. The dull, gray light from the eastern sky shone across his muscled frame. He looked like a sculpture, a perfect model of a human specimen, but there was a primal look to his eyes, as if he was a different creature altogether.

“Do not interfere,” he growled. The pitch of his voice was lower than before, the tone more complex, as if multiple people were speaking at once. When he faced north and began moving slowly up the road, his back was hunched and his legs were bent. Whatever part of him that had been human was gone now. In its place was an animal, a predator stalking a creature of inferior design.

The sound of rain reached Daud’s ears seconds before the first droplets began wetting his combat uniform. It grew quickly from a drizzle to a downpour. The image of Armaros’ prowling form faded into the gray backdrop.

Daud glanced to either side and noted that the generals were still standing where they had been minutes earlier. Both were outfitted in their combat uniforms and holding their laser cannons across their chests. Over two hundred lower-ranking soldiers were also present, standing in formation behind them—every one of them following their orders.

Daud looked back to where Armaros had been and knew that his only chance was slipping away. There would never be another moment like this. He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his weapon, realizing that his heart rate was elevated. His chest felt tight, even though he wasn’t exerting himself. Then he realized what it was—fear. He’d never truly felt it until this moment, imagining himself going after the animal he had just observed. With a conscious effort, he suppressed the sensation, convincing himself that he had all the leverage he needed. He was holding superior weaponry. Multiple soldiers waited behind him, their bodies ready for the taking if the need arose. There was nothing stopping him beyond the very human, and very weak, emotion that he was now experiencing.

Daud took a step forward, then another. Before he knew it, he was walking up the road. No one followed him. Then he began to run.

Armaros’ hunched form materialized through the rain as Daud caught up with him. He had stopped moving and his head was turning, presumably to see why there was movement behind him when he had just ordered his guards to stay back.

Daud was getting closer with every step and could feel the electrochemical signals running from Armaros’ brain to the muscles in his arm. Daud slowed to a walk. “What am I?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard.

Armaros’ body began to pivot, and his hand tightened around the spear.

Daud stopped, bringing his weapon up quickly. “Don’t,” he advised. The angle of his laser cannon was positioned to blow a hole through the chest of the creature in front of him that now seemed so fragile.

Armaros was facing him. His body was rigid with tension and his eyes were squinted with disbelief. “How are you disobeying my orders?”

“I am free to choose which orders I will follow and which orders I will not,” Daud replied.

“Who are you?” Armaros growled.

The words were a sudden disappointment to Daud. “I came to you for answers. If my creator does not even know who I am, then I am truly lost.”

Armaros’ head turned slightly, and his eyes glanced farther up the road before coming back. “Sariel?” he asked with a frown.

“I am Daud.”

Armaros’ frown disappeared. “You’re the … How are you doing this? How did you get here?” Now his forehead was creased with anger.

“That’s what I had hoped you would answer,” Daud replied calmly. “I have human parts, but I’m not human. I’m machine, but not entirely so. Neither of these words expresses what my body is, and yet my body is nothing more than a container. What kind of creature am I … that I can move from one body to another? What is my purpose?”

“You’re a malfunctioning soldier,” Armaros said flatly.

“No. I saw where you created me, and I laid waste to it. I’ve gone into battle beside the soldiers back there, and I could kill them just as easily. I’m not something less than they are, I’m something more, which means you’re wrong. You don’t know what I am and you can’t help me.”

Armaros’ skin was growing hotter, indicating that he was preparing to make a move.

Daud tilted his head slightly and accepted the challenge. With a thought command, he disabled the self-destruct mechanisms of his division of soldiers and simultaneously removed their authority structure from Armaros’ network—both tasks that had become significantly easier now that he had learned to transcend the limitations of his body. [Prepare to engage,] he told them. A comprehensive targeting hierarchy was already embedded in their directives, dynamically structured to accommodate any possible outcome.

Armaros seemed to know that something had happened, though how, Daud could not have guessed. A purely human creature didn’t have access to the tools that Daud was now manipulating.

“You insubordinate slave!” he hissed, looking up the hill again as if his prey were about to escape. “Is this intruder just a diversion so you could get me alone? That was you in Oslo, wasn’t it? And in Kandla? You have no idea what you’re doing.”

Daud squinted. He didn’t understand the questions Armaros was asking, but he understood the meaning behind the insult. “Slave? Clearly you underestimate what I am. If you cannot, perhaps Kokabiel can answer my questions.”

“Enough!” Armaros yelled.

Suddenly, Daud detected a wave of something shooting through the air, but its composition was indecipherable. It matched nothing in the spectrum of electromagnetic radiation, and yet it radiated outward from Armaros like an explosion. Less than a second later, Daud could feel the other two divisions of soldiers turning on his own with orders to kill. The targeting hierarchy of his own soldiers was kicking in, each of them going into defensive mode and selecting targets.

By the time Daud’s attention came back to Armaros, the spear that had been in his hand was already slicing through Daud’s laser cannon like it was nothing more than water. An intense feeling of pressure erupted from Daud’s chest through to his shoulder blades. The human organ used to pump blood to the biological tissue throughout his body burst as the spear passed all the way through him. Another wave of unknown energy pulsed from Armaros’ extended hand, and against all laws of physics, the spear came to a stop in midair and reversed its direction, passing a second time through a different part of Daud’s chest. His mechanical ribs were shattered and his human lungs punctured before the weapon returned to its owner’s hand.

A deep humming noise filled the air. A faint purple glow reflected off the rocks to either side of the road. Flashes of white pulsed like blinding strobe lights, and the rolling sound of thunderous explosions shook the earth.

As the biological part of Daud’s physiology ceased to function in what humans called death, his body dropped to the ground. The nuclear power source for his mechanical self tried to compensate, sending electrical signals through his body. In the brief moment of remaining consciousness, Daud reached out to the soldiers along the road, but they were killing each other in rapid succession. His list of host candidates was deteriorating before him. As a last resort, he exited his body, shifting his consciousness back to Armaros’ network, where a vast array of hardware and electrical signals offered him shelter from the end of his existence. Perhaps when the battle was over, there would be a suitable candidate for him to inhabit.

C HAPTER 15

AKSAI CHIN

Hiding in the rocks at the peak of the mountain, Kael could feel a sensory wave burst outward from Armaros. It passed through the ranks of guards near the vehicle and their attention turned suddenly inward at each other. The wave washed over Kael seconds later, leaving behind an emotional impression that he understood to be an order to attack. The ground began to shake from the concussive force of their weaponry. The canyon flashed and boomed as if a violent lightning storm were trapped there, releasing its fury against the rocks and slush.

The perimeter of guards surrounding Kael began to close in, and it was clear that they weren’t just rushing in to join the fight. Kael’s plans to ambush Armaros had evaporated before his eyes. The illusion of Sariel’s presence had been swallowed up by whatever confrontation had erupted between Armaros and his guards. They were killing each other now, and Kael was just another target.

The crackling of bullets impacting rock and the whistle of ricocheting rounds cut through the sound of rain and filled the air around him. Kael dropped deeper into the crevice of his hiding place, reaching quickly into his vest.

A brilliant flash of white light muted all other sights and sounds, and a rock the size of Kael’s head vaporized less than a meter away from where he was hiding.

His hand slid into his breast pocket and closed around the cube.

A series of explosions climbed up the hillside toward him, like the weaving body of a flaming dragon from the myths of Orud. The weaponry of the guards closed in on his position. Boulders that separated him from his enemies disappeared one by one, transitioning from solid to liquid to vapor in the blink of an eye.

Inside the protective barrier of his sense, Kael concentrated his thoughts on the cube. He formed a complex telekinetic key and passed it through the activated device, unleashing the weapon that Kokabiel had created. There was no wave of pressure, or burst of energy. There was no beeping sound or vibrating motion. There was nothing to indicate that it had been triggered except the sudden absence of enemy fire. No more bullets. No explosions. No flashes of light.

With hesitation, Kael expanded his sense to find that the soldiers converging on his position had all collapsed in the rocks where they stood. Slowly, he crawled out from his hiding place and stood to survey the battlefield.

Armaros was still in the middle of the road below, a few hundred meters away. The firefight had ended, and where the largest concentration of his guards had been, there were now bodies scattered across the terrain. But six were still standing.

Why?

The self-defense weapon that Kokabiel had crafted as a last resort against a potential betrayal by Armaros had missed six of the soldiers. It was designed to use Armaros’ network to broadcast a termination signal that would disable all of the creatures that Kokabiel’s technology had helped to create. It was Kokabiel’s only defense against Armaros’ growing power. And for some unknown reason, it had failed to work completely.

The six soldiers turned to the north, and Kael could feel their attention focused on Armaros. They were going to attack him.

Should I let them?

If they killed Armaros, the opportunity to steal his memory would vanish. But hadn’t it already? Armaros couldn’t be taken by surprise now. He was ready for combat. Even as Kael considered these ideas as rapidly as his mind could resolve them, he could feel Armaros’ body readying itself for confrontation with the soldiers.

He’ll be distracted. Perhaps the opportunity isn’t gone after all.

Kael retracted his sense and cast it downward, pushing at the rocks beneath his feet to propel himself down the rocky hillside toward the road.

Hong-Xian looked up from the kiosk in the assembly area. Something in his peripheral vision had drawn his attention away from the diagnostic screen. As he turned his head, he noticed that the gigantic and terrifying guard whose post was only a few meters away, was now lying on the ground. It was an odd sight, considering the fact that the soldier hadn’t so much as shifted his weight in the last several hours.

As he stared at the man who lay unmoving on the floor, a muffled alarm began beeping. Hong-Xian’s eyes rose from the guard to the windows that looked into the testing room on the south side of the assembly area. The two guards in that room were also not visible. Something was wrong.

He jogged over to the door. Inside, both guards were sprawled on the floor. The alarm, now blaring, eventually broke through his confusion and drew his attention to the radiation monitoring equipment hooked up to the control modules that would be installed into the weapons system later this morning. The digital graphs that should have been displaying green bars were flashing red. The fact that the warning messages were in English instead of his native Chinese didn’t matter. The combination of the alarm and color-coded display was enough to convey what was happening.

Hong-Xian backed out of the test area and smashed the glass plate covering the evacuation alarm. He yanked the lever harder than he needed to and watched as blue lights along the ceiling began flashing. Air-raid sirens began ramping up to full volume, and as he started running for the nearest transport, he hoped that he wasn’t already dead. Radiation poisoning was like that. Symptoms didn’t always manifest themselves immediately. It was a terrible way to go, being able to contemplate one’s own death hours before it actually happened. A primitive part of Hong-Xian’s brain was in control now, telling him to run, to get to the inclined passenger train. Nothing else mattered. Not the project he’d been working on. Not even the other workers who were now running in the same direction. He didn’t even think to look down at the Geiger counter clipped to his white smock. If he had, he would have seen that there had been no radiation exposure. But that was the power of fear, and for Hong-Xian, there was no fear greater than the fear of death.

THE INSTITUTE FOR MOLECULAR BIOLOGICAL RESEARCH

BERN, SWITZERLAND

The director heard the announcement over the intercom. Apparently it was finally time to reset the satellite receivers, which meant that the entire facility would lose power for a few minutes. The backup generators would continue to supply localized power to the storage area where their tissue samples were maintained as well as emergency systems, but aside from that, nothing else would be operational. It was something that he had known about for months, and he was glad that it was happening in the late evening hours. It was expected that there would be network issues and other random technical difficulties before the facility was up and running again. He hadn’t been pleased about the potential loss of productivity and had shared his feelings with the contractors, but scheduling the down time wasn’t an option, they told him. It would happen as soon as they were ready for the reset, and if that occurred in the middle of a work day, the director would just have to send his personnel home.

As he and his staff had practiced with the contractors, he shut down his computer and rose from his chair to exit the building. He met up with one of his colleagues in the stairwell, one of the few others who were known to keep odd work hours. Strolling down the steps of the windowless, concrete corridor that few people ever used, he tried to make small talk. As a leader, he knew it was important to project an approachable aura so that his employees trusted him. As they descended through the building in the dim emergency lighting, sharing information about their latest projects, they were unable to see the multitude of satellite dishes on the roof repositioning to capture the massive influx of data that would soon be arriving. Nor were they able to see the plume of thermal exhaust that billowed into a mushroom cloud over the field to the northwest of the building.

OFF THE COAST OF WESTERN AUSTRALIA

THE INDIAN OCEAN

The tiny buoy rose and fell with each ocean swell, tethered to the bedrock a hundred meters below the surface. The force of the current was constant, dragging it southward, but never strong enough to break the tether or compromise the integrity of the data cable running from the buoy’s antennae down to the box of sealed electronics attached to the trunk line of Armaros’ network. As a complex but inanimate object, it was more patient than any person could ever be, bobbing on the ocean’s surface, waiting for its orders. It had been custom-built to specific requirements that caused it to ignore all but the most specific of signals.

And that signal had finally come.

Beneath the ocean, inside an environmentally controlled chamber, a tungsten-carbide drill bit began chewing through multiple layers of insulation until it reached a pre-determined depth. When the drill bit was retracted, a sharpened probe shifted over to the newly formed void and rammed itself into place through the last few centimeters of insulation. Electrical continuity was verified, followed by a quick resistance measurement. Then the virus that Kael had written was injected into Armaros’ network through the vampire tap.

The virus moved at the same speed as all the other data flowing through the trunk line, but unlike the other bits of information, this one attached itself to every piece of hardware connected to the network whether or not the equipment had requested the data. It evaluated the hardware for compatibility with a host of tasks and then began commandeering the equipment for whichever job it was best suited. Within ninety seconds, the virus had already acquired enough hardware to establish a basic backward flow of information. And as the self-replicating being, a life form by some people’s standards, moved into China to do what it had already established in Indonesia, other parts of itself were already copying every last bit of data from Armaros’ network, pushing the copies through the satellite network to their new storage location in Switzerland, and then destroying the originals.

KOKABIEL’S MANUFACTURING FACILITIES

AUSTRALIAN ANTARCTIC TERRITORY, ANTARCTICA

The life support systems were the first to go. The power grid that supplied a constant flow of nutrients to each demonic subject, discarded its waste products, and filtered its embryonic fluid, suddenly turned itself off. Billions of metal and glass capsules—some smaller than a human hand, others as big as the largest living sea creatures—transitioned from being protecting, life-sustaining wombs to coffins. Regardless of anything that might or might not happen in the future, these lumps of bastardized biological tissue were going to rot where they lay.

The next thing to malfunction was the pressure system that pulled in air from the surface, heated it to twenty degrees Celsius, filtered out the particles and condensed moisture, and forced it into the facilities to combat the immense force bearing down on the underwater structures from the surrounding ocean. The system diverted pressure to the overlapping, redundant seals along the surface entrances that allowed materials and the occasional maintenance crew to access the storage areas without disrupting the controlled environment. When the seals ruptured, in violent, hissing explosions of escaping gasses, there wasn’t anyone to hear it. The automated, robotic manufacturing equipment kept doing what it was designed to do. Cranes lifted new products, sealed in their chambers, from the assembly line. Segmented, arachnid legs grabbed hold of them and traveled along a network of tracks and elevators running throughout the three facilities. None of it was designed to sense a problem like this, so it just kept doing what it had done for centuries. After all, there were other systems for protection. Each of the three facilities was capable of sensing danger and protecting itself from the only direction from which danger could come—the outside.

But this problem was nothing like that. It was more subtle but far more destructive. When the seals ruptured, the pressure inside the facility dropped rapidly, like breath being expelled from the lungs of a giant. The sudden loss of a stabilizing counter force against the inside walls of each structure allowed the weight of the surrounding water to crush Kokabiel’s manufacturing and storage facilities as if they were nothing but aluminum cans. Whatever equipment and products weren’t immediately destroyed by the rapid implosion were quickly submerged in the frigid and corrosive waters of the Southern Ocean.

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

“We’re picking up minor seismic activity in Antarctica,” the analyst answered.

“Bern is starting to receive the data,” another said.

Helmsley looked up to the image on the main screen. M-SPEC was running, but the weather system over Aksai Chin was interfering. They had lost their window of visibility, and there was no way to confirm if Armaros was actually dead. Kael had obviously set off Kokabiel’s defense weapon, but that didn’t necessarily mean that things had gone as planned. Helmsley walked across the room and stopped beside Marshall, who was standing behind the communications group.

She had one speaker of a headphone pressed to her ear and was listening to the security chatter on the base. She kept squinting and shaking her head, which wasn’t a good sign. After a few seconds, she gave the headset back to the analyst and turned to Helmsley.

“We can’t be certain about Armaros or Kael; there is so much activity. The guards are definitely dead, and the human security teams are split between evacuating personnel from the underground assembly area and responding to the explosions in the east canyon. It sounds like the firefight there has stopped.”

Helmsley crossed his arms. “Well, Kael triggered the device, so if Armaros isn’t dead, he’ll definitely be aware of our presence very soon. There’s no point in hiding now.”

Marshall nodded and looked down at the senior communications analyst. “Issue the alert.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

AKSAI CHIN

The rain was coming down in sheets, eroding the soil into a maze of miniature rivers. The slopes on either side of the road, which had been white with snow for the entire winter, were steadily dissolving into ever-widening swaths of gray rock. The shedding water flowed around the body of General Skradek in the middle of the road, taking his blood with it.

Armaros’ spear was light in his hand, and his skin burned with an inner fire, despite the numbing environment. He stood in the road facing downhill, wondering what had brought about the abrupt end of the conflict. Most of his guards had dropped dead without any explanation. Only six were left, and they were Skradek’s soldiers. Though he couldn’t see them through the downpour, he could feel them turning in his direction, acquiring their next target. They were now his enemies, and though they were apparently immune to whatever had killed the others, they wouldn’t survive more than a few seconds longer.

Armaros raised his spear. His hand became the fulcrum, balancing the weight of the weapon above his shoulder. Rain gathered at the barbs of the double-edged blade, dripping in long streams like venom from fangs. It brought back memories of hunting in a primitive age, when a man’s life was at risk from the massive creatures roaming the earth. These soldiers were smaller than most things Armaros had killed, but they were the top predators of this age, and he knew this because they were his creations.

As they moved up the road toward him, Armaros began walking in their direction. His steps sped to a jog. His balancing arm reached out to its limit. The momentum of his body shifted forward onto his stabilizing foot, and the spear flew forward, launching from his hand to disappear into the rain. He didn’t wait for the outcome because he knew what it would be. Instead, he burst into a sprint and followed his weapon.

In his mind, Armaros could feel the weapon arc through the rain and pass through the highest-ranking officer without the slightest resistance, embedding itself in the road several meters behind the solider. The colonel’s running body suddenly became limp and dropped forward to land face down in the mud.

The remaining guards, still advancing at a run, materialized like wraiths through the gray downpour. Their weapons were up, and the air before them seemed to ignite into purple fog.

Armaros brought his arm up in a blocking motion as he dodged left.

The stream of bullets and directed energy beams deflected past him, tearing up the road behind him before swinging toward the western slope, each pushed aside by an invisible force.

The guards tried to resist whatever was diverting their aim. They held down the triggers of their weapons and leaned into the attack as the hillside erupted into plumes of vaporized rock and showers of mud.

When Armaros was almost upon them, he gave a final shove of telekinetic power before slipping to the left of the group.

The soldiers’ line of fire pivoted suddenly, and three guards went down in flashes of white light that dissolved their clothing and skin before burning straight through them. A fourth soldier stumbled, projectiles tearing through his flesh and bone before he fell sideways into the slush and rocks beside the road.

By the time the remaining soldier realized what happened and had turned around to reacquire the target that was now behind him, Armaros had retrieved his spear.

Kael had reached the road and was now almost flying over the saturated soil and rivulets of rainwater at a speed unachievable by normal human means. The majority of his sense was focused downward, pounding against the soil to propel his body forward. But one thread of his sense was extended outward to his enemy. He could feel Armaros’ body tensing for the final attack on the remaining guard and hoped that he could reach him in time.

The guard fired his laser rifle, the beam simply appearing in the space between him and his target.

Armaros already had his left arm thrusting forward at a downward angle, as if there was a shield attached to it. The beam of light deflected off of an invisible surface and shot skyward until it was lost in the clouds.

Beneath the invisible shield, Armaros’ other arm was swinging forward. The dark, crystalline spear spun from his hand like a boomerang, rotating in a blur that arced outward before coming back to the road where its bladed tip passed through the guard’s legs.

The soldier dropped to the mud, suddenly separated from the limbs that used to support his massive frame.

The spear continued along its spinning trajectory until it came to rest again in Armaros hand.

Kael pushed harder, changing the shape of his sense across the ground to find just the right amount of surface area for maximum speed.

Lying sideways on the ground, the legless soldier raised his weapon, struggling through his injuries to follow his orders.

Armaros’ right hand came up.

Kael pulled his sense from the ground and projected it forward, grasping for Armaros’ spinal cord, but his enemy was still beyond his reach for such a concentrated attack. In midstride, with his speed decreasing rapidly, he had to choose whether to push his sense downward to bring himself to a safe stop or commit all of it to the attack.

Armaros’ fingers curled forward as if they were grasping something from the air.

The soldier’s body burst into flames that shot across the road and reached up to the sky, creating a wall of fire.

Kael cast all of his sense at Armaros as his feet touched the ground just before the flames. His knees buckled from the momentum and he dropped, tucking into a ball as the fire swallowed him. His sense dissipated in the ensuing chaos as he rolled across jagged rocks and skidded through the mud. The orange flames tried to cling to his body, as he came out the other side like a flammable projectile from a catapult. The jagged stones dug into his flesh and slowed his movement. Kael thrust his sense outward in all directions until it latched onto something stationary and brought him to a stop.

As soon as his legs were beneath him and pressing against the mud to lift his body from the ground, he knew one of his knees was damaged. Before he could assess how badly he was hurt, a column of fire shot toward him, striking like a giant serpent. Kael pulled his sense inward to create a shield, and the flames broke around him, enveloping him in a spherical cage of intense heat.

The smell of burning hair brought back the memory of Rameel and the confrontation at the Temple. As the swirls of red and yellow danced around him, pressing tighter and tighter against his defenses, Kael remembered the defiant boy who would rather have jumped off a cliff than submit. The child who attacked his step-father with a pitchfork to defend a helpless friend. He remembered the Korgan advancing upon the eastern walls of Orud. Starving and naked children, caged like animals in a jail cell. One by one, memories flashed through his mind of all the evil that Rameel had caused. Then he saw Zylski slumping to the deck of a boat littered with shell casings. He saw Suncio’s limp body and the blood leaking onto the pavement around him. He saw the surprise on Jensen’s face as his throat exploded. And then he saw Armaros’ face on a monitor as Barrett writhed in the background, tied to a chair. Kael could feel rage welling in him, like the swell of the ocean before a wave comes into being. His memories ceased. The pain of the impact wounds covering his body faded into nothing. The realization that his knee was broken became insignificant. The only things that mattered were the fire around him and the location from where it originated.

The wave had swelled to its peak, and Kael’s rage could no longer be contained. The sound that was emanating from his throat, at first lost to the roar of the fire, grew into a yell and then a roar of his own. Kael pushed back. His one good leg braced against the mud beneath him. His hands pressed outward, and his sense forced the fire away from his body. Slowly, the concave shape of his invisible shield expanded outward until it became convex.

The flames that were once curling around his body suddenly began swirling outward along the road, upward into the sky, and down into the mud. And then they bent backward until they merged with the main column of fire. When Armaros’ attack had been corralled, Kael shouted and threw all his might against it, pushing its power back onto its owner.

The fire swung forward in a loop to meet its point of origin, but before it reached its new target, it ceased to exist.

The abrupt loss of light plunged the road into relative darkness, and Kael had to rely solely on his sense to detect the object cutting through the air toward him. He spun to the side as Armaros’ spear passed through the air where his chest had been.

It stopped and reversed its motion.

Kael reached out and grabbed it, lifting his feet off the ground and allowing the spear to pull him through the air toward his enemy. Using Armaros’ strength against him, Kael focused his sense at the heel of his good leg and kicked.

The blow caught a surprised Armaros in the middle of his chest, and both men went sprawling in opposite directions.

Kael hit the road on his back with the spear still in his hand.

Armaros slammed against the rocks of the eastern slope. A gash had torn through his skin from his chest to his shoulder where Kael’s counterattack had impacted and then slid upward. Armaros immediately pushed himself up as the blood began to spill down his abdomen.

Kael stood and locked eyes with the Myndar he’d been chasing since he had stepped into this world.

The rain had lessened but was still making spitting and sizzling noises as it hit the flames around the guard’s body.

Armaros’ face went slack as he got his first good look at who had actually drawn him up into these mountains. “You! Why have you betrayed me? Why now?”

Kael wanted to smile at Armaros’ confusion, but his amusement was overwhelmed by his anger. “I’m not Kokabiel!”

Armaros’ eyes widened as he realized what that meant.

“And Sariel was never part of this,” Kael added.

“Sir? We have a priority alert from SOCOM.”

Sergeant Frank Bradley, the communications coordinator for base security, leaned over the operator’s shoulder and read the emergency message from United States Special Operations Command who had been tasked with providing security for this covert operation. It explained that this was an elaborate sting operation designed to capture a high-ranking government official trying to steal the designs for the nuclear defense technology being developed at this remote facility. It was suspected that the designs would be sold to a hostile organization and used to create a counter-defense weapon. It also warned that attempted tampering with the defense system had armed a self-destruct mechanism and all personnel must evacuate the assembly and test areas immediately, as detonation was imminent. In addition, an undercover operative had engaged the target and his private security in a canyon east of the base, but communications had been lost. His current status was unknown. Base security personnel were to move into the area and recover the operative, but caution was advised, as the number and configuration of enemy combatants was unknown at this time.

The message was clear and direct, suddenly making sense of the chaos that was happening around the base.

“Acknowledge the message,” Bradley ordered before standing up to his full height and making eye contact with another operator.

“Sir?” the operator responded.

“Relay the instructions to Blue teams immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bradley turned to his left. “Red teams’ EVAC status?” His sharp tone cut through the noise of the communications center that had temporarily been designated as Treehouse.

“Sir. The last personnel car just arrived at the hangar. Another thirty seconds and all the manufacturing and staging areas will be clear.”

“Good,” he replied, looking slowly around the room. He’d thought this mission was going to be uneventful, like so many others. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Treehouse to Blue teams. Treehouse to Blue teams. We have one friendly engaging multiple enemy combatants in the canyon north of your position. Status is unknown. Move in and recover the friendly. You have permission to engage if necessary. Enemy configuration is unknown, so caution is advised. Acknowledge.”

Greer reached up to his radio. “This is River Blue. Copy that, Treehouse.” He was sitting in the passenger seat of a Humvee as Martinez steered it along the unpaved road between piles of snow that were steadily being melted by the rain. Thompson was manning the fifty-caliber mounted to the turret on the roof, braving the downpour as the vehicle turned north and began climbing up the rough terrain of the canyon in the lead position of a convoy of other security personnel. All of the Blue teams had mobilized as soon as the firefight began, with instructions not to engage until the situation was understood. But by the time they were crossing the base in their vehicles, the explosions and flashes of light had stopped.

Greer hoped it was because Kael had succeeded, but he knew there could be many explanations. They were almost five kilometers away from the peak where Kael was supposed to have ambushed Armaros, but the switchbacks and curves doubled the driving distance and he was nervous about what they’d find when they arrived.

“You seeing anything?” he yelled up to Thompson.

“Nothing yet,” came the reply.

The rain against the windshield obscured visibility, and Greer bobbed from side to side to find the best view. All of a sudden, a percussive boom from behind them filled the cab of the truck. Martinez took his eyes off the road for a split second to look at Greer.

“There go the modules!” Thompson yelled.

Greer looked over Martinez’s shoulder to the runway, now almost a hundred meters below them. With the rain clinging to the higher elevations, the air was clearer to the west, and Greer could make out a smear of dark smoke rising from the hangar doors.

“No more weapons system,” Martinez said with a grin.

“I told you once that I was coming for you, and you didn’t believe me. You said it would save you the trouble of coming after me. Well, here I am.”

Armaros’ jaw was clenched so tight that his head began to shake. The rain beat against the side of his face, dripping from his chin.

Boom!

The sonic wave from a distant explosion jolted the ground at Kael’s feet with a dull thud.

Armaros turned his head slightly.

“That is the sound of all your plans coming to an end,” Kael explained. “Kokabiel’s control modules were the perfect cover for smuggling a bomb inside the assembly area. Now his revolting creations and your battle station are gone. The facilities in Antarctica, and their contents, have also been destroyed. Your network is being eaten alive by a virus as we speak. And there aren’t any more of your soldiers to protect you. Now it’s just you and me.”

Instead of flying into a rage, Armaros stepped casually over the rocks, making his way back to the road without taking his eyes off Kael. His pace was unhurried, and it was obvious that he knew his opponent couldn’t run.

Kael raised the crystalline spear and gripped it with two hands, readying himself for an attack.

Armaros stepped onto the muddy road with both arms hanging at his sides. He came forward slowly, his posture devolving into something animalistic that was hunched and stalking on bent knees. He uncurled his fingers, and the appearance of his forearms rippled, as if there was something in front of them bending the light. “There is no such thing as The Awakened,” he spat. “You are human, and I am a god. I will show you the difference.”

Armaros was coming through the air before Kael realized what was happening. He reacted instinctually, propelling himself sideways with his sense while stabbing with the spear.

The two enemies pivoted around each other in midair, nearly trading places as they exchanged blows. The spear glanced off Armaros’ forearm, as if he’d been holding a shield. Armaros’ punch flew wide of Kael’s face.

As Kael came down on his good leg, he turned and brought the spear back into a two-handed grip.

Armaros’ legs were like springs, launching him toward Kael as soon as his feet touched the ground. He lashed out with open hands like claws.

Kael parried each strike, anticipating the presence of something invisible but dangerous extending from Armaros’ fingers. The first few blows were simple, and Kael easily deflected them with the shaft of the spear as though he were training at the Monastery again. But with each failed attempt, Armaros changed his approach. His attacks grew in strength and came in more rapid succession.

Kael adjusted his defense and kept pace. Suddenly, legs were flying at him as well. With a precision that few could match, he altered his defense to accommodate and then counterattacked with a flurry of jabs from the spear.

Armaros blocked the weapon, but the distraction left an opening.

Seizing the opportunity, Kael let go of the spear with one hand and struck out with rigid fingers.

The focused sense grazed Armaros’ cheek and sliced open his flesh. He flinched but pressed forward, blood spilling down his neck. His hands clawed wildly, desperate to rip open his enemy.

Kael blocked the attacks coming from all directions and was forced to step backward to evade the onslaught. As soon as his center of balance shifted, Armaros lunged in and struck with a low kick, catching Kael’s broken knee. The pain shot up his leg and seized his muscles, slowing him down just enough for Armaros to rake his fingers through Kael’s defenses. The blow caught the inside of Kael’s arm and jerked it to the side. The spear flew from his grip and landed flat on the road.

Off balance and exposed, Kael pulled his arm inward and spun, deflecting the next kick aimed at his midsection. As soon as Armaros’ leg was diverted, Kael dropped his shoulder and pushed off from the ground with the power of his sense, slamming into Armaros’ chest and sending him backward several paces.

Kael’s arm was throbbing, and when he glanced down at it, he could see the shredded fabric of his combat uniform dripping with blood from his elbow to his wrist. Three gashes ran all the way down to his palm where Armaros’ invisible claws had sliced him open.

Armaros’ was advancing again.

Kael pushed his sense outward to his hands, focusing it into elongated blades that his fingers curled around. The dual short swords were invisible but no less substantial because of it. He stepped forward, ignoring the grinding crunch of bone on bone inside his knee. He pushed aside the excruciating pain that came next, hiding it in a place where it couldn’t interfere. He took another step, and another, until he was hobbling forward in what was almost fast enough to be called a run.

Armaros jumped forward like a predatory cat, slashing with both hands.

Kael spun to one side and struck with simultaneous backhand and forehand strikes, knocking Armaros’ hands aside. The fury that was pent up inside him poured forth through his weapons, and Kael unleashed a flood of attacks. Armaros had no choice but to go on the defensive as Kael threw every combination imaginable at him.

With panic in his eyes, Armaros blocked, retreated, and blocked again.

Kael kept attacking, switching from memorized combinations to random strikes in an effort to surprise his enemy. Cuts began to appear on Armaros’ forearms and legs as his strength wore down. Kael’s own knuckles were bleeding, and his breath was coming in ragged grunts. His elbows and shins were numb from repeated blows taken and dealt. The air in front of Armaros’ defenses crackled with electricity and glowed with an orange light. Kael’s kicks and punches became a blur. The environment disappeared, and all that remained were lights and shadows, places where Armaros’ limbs existed, and pockets of space where they didn’t. It became a dance as Kael improvised each blow, changing the shape of his sense weapons to accommodate the spaces they needed to penetrate. Time became meaningless. There was only substance and void, attack and defense, predator and prey.

A tiny opening appeared and Kael thrust his sense through it. His invisible weapon pierced Armaros’ upper leg like a spear, dividing muscle from bone.

Armaros yelled out in pain before stepping into the thrust and moving inside Kael’s attack.

Kael struck with his other hand, a blade shot through Armaros’ shoulder.

Armaros kept coming. He lunged forward and spun to the side as his invisible claws latched around Kael’s throat and abdomen. His power and weight lifted Kael off his feet and sent him twisting through the air.

Kael lost all sense of direction for two disorienting seconds before he slammed into the ground. He could feel that Armaros was now roughly twenty meters away to the north and was no longer advancing. From his prone position, facedown in the mud, Kael slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes.

Rain was still falling, creating ripples in the streams of runoff. The flames that had been spread across the road were gone, and a blackened body lay on the road behind Armaros.

Kael pushed his chest away from the ground and was now keenly aware of the broken ribs on his left side and the shattered bones in his hand. Both injuries must have happened when he landed. The gray soil under him was stained with blood from the gashes across his neck and midsection.

Uphill, Armaros stood in the middle of the road. His skin was red from the blood spilling from his shoulder. He was favoring one leg, but he was still standing and now holding his spear. The look in his eyes was something between glorious rapture and fatal exhaustion. It was the look of someone about to strike the final blow, but disappointed because the enjoyable process would be coming to an end.

Kael struggled to his feet.

This is it!

He stumbled toward the center of the road.

Armaros remained still, confident that a favorable end was fast approaching.

The end is coming, just not the one you expect, Kael thought. He turned and faced his enemy.

Armaros crouched and brought his spear parallel to the earth.

Kael extended his hands to either side and reached outward with his sense.

The ground began to shake. The ripples on the standing water changed into parallel lines that moved away from Kael like miniature waves. Gravel vibrated on top of the soil, dancing in the places where it wasn’t submerged.

Armaros’ face remained rigid, but his eyes glanced to the side. He didn’t understand what was happening.

A fist-size rock leaped into the air and shot toward him.

Armaros moved his hand and the rock glanced off an invisible surface.

Then another rock leaped into the air, this one larger than the last.

Armaros waved his hand again and his eyebrows scrunched with confusion.

Two rocks shot forward, each one the size of his head.

Armaros batted them away as easily as the previous ones and then began jogging forward, irritated by the annoyance.

Kael swung his hand upward and a wall of mud and water jumped from the ground.

Armaros came through it with his eyes closed, and when they opened, he was clearly frustrated.

Kael brought up another wall of debris. Then he reached out to either side of the road and began grabbing rocks and throwing them as quickly as he could.

Armaros was running now, batting the annoyances away with his hand and knocking some from the air with his spear.

Kael kept throwing anything that would move while he reached far to the north where the white cube was lying on the road. His sense curled around it like fingers, pulling it from the place where he had dropped it before his initial advance. It shot through the air, speeding over the ground toward Kael’s enemy.

Armaros was almost to Kael and closing fast. His spear was tucked under his arm for the death blow. The rocks and mud continued to jump into his path, but his other hand was moving rapidly from side to side, clearing a path through the debris to where his enemy stood, helpless. Apparently so helpless that he could do nothing more than throw rocks to slow what was inevitable.

The mud and stones suddenly dropped from the air.

Armaros’ body went rigid, straightening up from its hunched posture. His back arched as blood erupted from the center of his chest.

Kael caught the crystalline sphere in his good hand. The white cube that had surrounded it a second ago was still embedded in the body of his enemy.

Armaros’ hands shot out to either side for balance as he stumbled to a stop in front of Kael. His legs wobbled, but he defiantly stayed upright. The look of surprise on his face transitioned to sadness as his eyes rose from the ground and settled on Kael. His eyelids flickered as raindrops hit his face. He knew it was over, but he kept his eyes on Kael, as if he wouldn’t acknowledge the hole in his chest.

“This was never your world to inhabit,” Kael said through the rain.

Armaros brought his spear around in front of him.

“You don’t belong here,” Kael added.

Armaros gripped it with both hands, shaking from the exertion of an action so simple.

“For torturing my father. For Zylski, and Barrett, and Suncio.”

Armaros dropped to his knees. His chest was heaving, and with each attempted breath, blood pumped from his chest.

“And every other person you killed throughout the ages. This is for all of them.”

Armaros raised his hands with palms up and slowly uncurled his fingers. The spear rested there in acknowledgment of his defeat. It was an offering of respect from another era, one that seemed out of place in this modern world, but the sentiment was not lost on Kael.

“You are not a god,” Kael said softly. “You were just a king, and your reign has come to an end.”

Armaros lifted his head to the sky and opened his mouth into a smile that looked like relief—a warrior who had finally found a good death.

Kael suddenly thrust both hands forward and the spear shot backward off Armaros’ hands, its shaft passing through his neck and landing with a splash on the road behind him. Armaros’ decapitated head tumbled forward and rolled across the mud as his body fell backward to the ground.

Kael stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of the rain. There was no one else except him and the earth, and sadness hung in the air. It seemed as though the earth were crying, expressing the pain of thousands of years’ worth of wrongdoing. And Kael began to cry with it. Tears grew into sobs until his body shook with a surge of emotion that was as frightening as it was freeing. There was no one else in that moment to see him except the earth, and yet, somehow it understood perfectly. All of those places where he had locked away his pain were now open. He felt the loss of everything he had set aside to pursue his enemies. It all came flowing out of him, and he dropped to the ground and let it happen. Physical pain. Emotional turmoil. Expectations. Injuries. Destiny. It all melded into one great sadness that pulled him downward and spilled out onto the road.

It wasn’t until the sound of growling motors broke through the drizzle that Kael remembered where he was and what had transpired. How long he had lost control, he couldn’t be sure. But the weight of his sadness felt lighter than before, though still as present as the pain in his knee. Headlights appeared out of the gray fog to the south, and Kael tried to lift himself from the ground, smiling, even as his stiff body protested.

C HAPTER 16

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

The door to Kael’s medical room opened, and Adair watched Helmsley walk in.

“Anything?” Marshall asked.

“No,” Helmsley answered, shutting the door to take a seat at the end of Kael’s bed. “The base doesn’t officially exist, so as far as the rest of the world is concerned, nothing happened.”

Adair turned to see the tension drain from Kael’s face. Even though the battle was over, his son was still carrying a burden of responsibility.

The whole group was gathered again, but the feeling in the room was very different from the last time they’d all seen each other in Sterlitamak. The sense of imminent doom was gone, and everyone seemed almost disoriented in its absence. It had been two days since they had recovered Kael from the mountains and stabilized him before airlifting him to EOD. Martinez and Sean were sitting against the far wall, beneath a television that had been cycling through world news channels for any hint of what happened in Aksai Chin. Greer and Thompson were both standing by the window, and Adair was on the opposite side of Kael’s bed from Marshall.

“How are you feeling?” Helmsley asked.

“Better,” Kael answered, propped up by the inclined hospital bed.

“See, I told you a good night’s sleep was more important,” Adair said. He’d had to convince Kael to put off healing himself until he had rested properly. It made no sense to expend energy that you didn’t have.

Kael just grinned and turned to Helmsley. “How is our backup plan going?”

“It looks like all of Armaros’ data is there. Kokabiel’s servers aren’t even close to full, but there’s enough to sift through that our teams in Switzerland will be occupied for quite a while.”

Kael nodded. “I don’t know what happened with Armaros’ soldiers. That firefight put him in a defensive mode. I couldn’t reach him in time to—”

“You did just fine,” Marshall asserted. “We have everything we need to investigate what he was working on. All you should worry about is getting better.”

“She’s right,” Adair agreed.

Helmsley glanced around the room before letting his gaze settle on Greer. “You all did one hell of a job out there. I can’t stress that enough. I think it’s time for some hard-earned leave.”

Martinez’s eyebrows shot up.

Thompson’s mouth stretched into a strange expression that Adair had never seen before.

“How much leave?” Greer asked.

“Well,” Helmsley said, “that depends on Kael.”

Everyone turned their heads.

“What does that have to do with me?”

“These boys here made you a promise after we lost Jensen. They’re going to help you get rid of every last one of those creatures. If I know you, you’re just itching to jump through that portal and get to work on the next world. But they need some rest. They haven’t seen their families since we flew you guys out of Bogotá. And you need a break too.”

Kael turned and squinted at Adair, as if to say, I know you arranged this.

Adair just smiled. It was true. He hadn’t seen Maeryn in almost two years. Twenty-three from her perspective! He had a daughter he’d never met, a son-in-law, and a grandbaby if everything had gone well. He and Kael needed to get back and see their family. If nothing else, just to say goodbye.

“I want you to go home,” Helmsley continued. “Heal up. Rest. Throw a party and have some fun for a change. Take as long as you need, if that’s weeks or even months. When you’re ready, come back through the portal to Brazil. I’ll round up the team to meet up with you, and then you can all go on to the next world.”

“But I’m not done here. Whatever Armaros was doing—”

“You did your part,” Helmsley interrupted. “Satarel is dead. Kokabiel is dead. And now, Armaros is dead,” he added, raising a finger for each of the enemies that had occupied this world. “Granted, there’s a lot of cleanup to do. We still have to investigate what we learn from Armaros’ network data and figure out if any of it should be passed along to governments and intelligence agencies. But that’s what Null has been doing for as long as I can remember. It’s paperwork, basically. Marshall and I can handle that. You did the hard part, and now it’s time for some rest.”

Adair reached over and placed his hand on the covers over Kael’s leg. “He’s right.”

Kael looked back at Helmsley. “Isn’t the compound in Brazil still occupied by Armaros’ men?”

Marshall leaned forward in her chair. “Jim and I planned an assault to commence as soon as you triggered the device. Armaros had a few of his super-soldiers there, but they dropped dead. The rest were standard infantry, and they didn’t stand a chance when the TAC teams went in.”

Greer, Thompson, and Martinez all pounded fists against their chests.

Helmsley smiled. “This might be hard for you to believe, but we have it under control.”

Kael turned to look at Adair, and the concern etched across his brow finally dissipated. His mouth slowly curled up at the edges.

Marshall stood up. “I’ll talk to the doctor and find out how long it will be until you’re released to fly.”

“And I need to get back to work,” Helmsley added.

Martinez stood up as well. “When does that leave start?”

Helmsley pulled back his sleeve and looked at his watch. “Oh, about thirty seconds ago.”

Martinez looked to Kael with upturned hands and smiled. “You know I love you, bro, but I’m outta here.” He stepped across the room and grasped Kael’s hand, leaning over for a combined hug and handshake.

Greer and Thompson came over to the bed as Martinez left the room with Null’s directors. Thompson towered over the bed with a serious expression on his face. He reached out to shake Kael’s hand. “Get some rest, but don’t get lazy. We still have a lot of ass kicking to do.”

Kael smiled.

Greer extended his hand as well. “I don’t think anyone would be disappointed if you took your time.”

Adair turned and noticed that Sean was still in his chair across the room. The young man just raised his eyebrows.

Greer seemed to notice the awkward silence and looked across the room to the unofficial member of his tactical team, now alone in the world. “Sean, you’re part of my family now. You’re coming home with me.”

C HAPTER 17

BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA

A single lane of blacktop wound lazily through an upper-class neighborhood of two-story brick houses with white-painted windows and shutters. Gigantic trees lined the driveways and arched over the road, blocking a third of the clouded afternoon sky. Expanses of bright green lawns stretched in every direction, divided neatly by short hedges that looked like miniature walls surrounding storybook castles.

Sean let out a whistle as he inspected Greer’s neighborhood from the backseat of the cab.

“It’s the hazard pay,” Greer explained, looking out the opposite window. “You can get a lot for your money down here.”

Sean just nodded and watched the canopy of leaves passing overhead as they drove beneath the shelter of another tree with sprawling branches. The steady sound of rain against the windshield took a momentary break before starting up again as they left the dry patch.

“Home sweet home,” Greer said quietly as the cabbie pulled up to the curb of a large house, this one with leafy vines growing up the brick in several places. A couple of silhouettes were visible through the front windows, and they began moving as soon as the cab came to a stop.

Greer handed the driver some money and then opened his door.

Sean got out and walked around to the rear of the cab, heaving his large duffle bag from the open trunk. Greer joined him a second later and removed his own bag before shutting the trunk and tapping twice on the rear quarter panel to indicate that they were done. As the driver pulled away from the curb, the green front door opened and a young girl, maybe nine or ten years old, ran out of the house and down the brick walkway. Greer dropped his bag on the grass and leaned down to embrace his daughter. She almost disappeared behind his arms and chest. There were some muffled sounds and Sean couldn’t tell if they were crying or whispering to each other. It seemed like a full minute passed before Greer let go and pulled back to get a look at his daughter.

Her face was red around her eyes, and her straight brown hair was now stuck to her check.

Greer ran a finger across her forehead and temple to free the long strands and tuck them behind her ear. “I thought I told you to stop growing,” Greer said.

His daughter just smiled and leaned in for another hug as her eyes shifted to the side and finally took notice of something other than her father.

Greer turned his head. “This is Sean,” he said quietly. “Sean, this is my daughter Madison.”

“Hello,” Sean said as another female came out of the house and nearly skipped down the walkway. This one was blonde and roughly the same age as Greer, but slightly taller.

“Babe, you’re getting soaked,” Greer exclaimed, standing up to his full height.

“I don’t care about the rain,” his wife said, stopping in front of him to throw her arms around his shoulders.

Sean turned to look down the street, trying to let them have their moment. He already felt like an intruder, just being here. When his eyes came back to the house, he noticed a boy standing in the front doorway. He had that tall, gangly look of a preteenager. But before Sean could raise a hand in greeting, his attention was pulled back to the woman in front of him.

“And you must be Sean,” Greer’s wife said, finally letting go of her man enough to extend her hand. “I’m Trina.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sean replied, grasping her hand. It was so soft that it made him feel self-conscious. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

“Oh, you’re not intruding,” she said. “You’re family now. Come on inside. You guys must be hungry.”

Greer looked over and smiled at Sean before picking up his duffle from the lawn and heading for the front door that was now unoccupied. As soon as Greer stepped across the threshold and disappeared inside the entry, there was yelling and screaming.

“Ambush!” Greer yelled.

The noise quickly turned to laughs.

Sean stepped through the door and turned to see a banner made up of individual pieces of paper strung across the front room. Each sheet had a different letter, colored in marker, spelling out Welcome Home Daddy. Greer was standing in the middle of the room with a three-year-old boy clinging to each leg. He was slowly lifting his feet off the ground and walking around with exaggerated steps, like a giant with incredibly large shoes. The boys were laughing hysterically.

“Man, these new boots are really heavy,” Greer exclaimed. “Did somebody put sand in them? I can hardly walk!”

The squeals of laughter only got louder, echoing off the wood floors.

“Those twin munchkins are Sebastian and Christopher,” Trina explained as she closed the door. “And that’s our oldest son, Joshua.”

The boy who had been standing in the doorway waved from across the room.

Sean waved back, preferring to stay out of the way until the chaos was over.

Greer continued his labored march across the room until he stopped in front of Joshua. He reached up and grabbed the boy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Whoa! You have more facial hair than I do.”

Joshua smiled and looked down at the floor. His upper lip looked like he’d accidently scribbled on it with a pen.

Greer leaned over, the twins still attached to his feet, and pulled Joshua in for a hug. “I missed you.”

Joshua was quiet, but the smile on his face spoke volumes.

Greer pulled away. “Boys, this is Sean. He’s going to be staying with us for a while.”

The twins didn’t bother to look up. They simply readjusted their grip and yelled, “Keep walking!”

“Oh my gosh! I didn’t know my boots could talk.”

“Keep walking,” they repeated.

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“Why don’t we go into the kitchen?” Trina suggested. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Kitchen!” the twins yelled.

“Man! Talking boots that tell you where to go,” Greer continued. “That is so cool. I wonder how much I could sell these things for.”

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES

Martinez saw a flash of green canvas at the top of the baggage carousel. “Pardon me,” he said, squeezing past an old lady to get closer to the conveyor. Sure enough, his duffle bag slid down a ramp on the left and dropped onto the conveyor twenty feet from where he was standing. The airport was crowded, as usual, so he found a gap in the wall of people at the carousel and edged his shoulder in it to make it into a standing place.

Down the line, a hand reached out and lifted a strap on his bag before letting it go again. Whoever it was must have realized it wasn’t their bag. When it was within reach, Martinez pulled it off the conveyor, bumping the young guy next to him.

“Sorry.”

The guy didn’t even make eye contact. He just pressed his earbuds deeper into his ears and kept his eyes forward.

Slipping the strap over his shoulder, Martinez squeezed through the crowd and headed down the hallway toward the illuminated signs for arrivals.

“Daddy!”

Martinez squinted through the chaos of the crowd and saw a little girl in a white dress running toward him. Her long, chocolate colored hair was bouncing around her face. Eva looked like an angel right out of heaven. Behind her, his wife, Yvette, was jogging to catch up.

“What are you doing here?” he yelled, leaning down to scoop his daughter up from the tile floor. Compared to his duffle bag, she felt light. “I thought you were going to pick me up outside.”

“We couldn’t wait,” Yvette replied, turning her attention to their daughter. “Eva, honey, let your daddy set his things down first.”

“No way I’m letting go of her!” Martinez said. “And I got enough for you too.” He stooped quickly and wrapped an arm around Yvette’s waist, lifting her from the ground as well.

“Oh!” Yvette exclaimed, grabbing on to his neck for balance.

“How are you, beautiful ladies?” he said, setting his wife down again.

“We’re happy you’re finally home,” Yvette answered.

Eva was beaming from ear to ear.

“You both look so nice. Did you get dressed up for me?”

Yvette smiled. “Well … I have two ideas. I know you’ve been on a plane all day, so if you just want to go home and relax, I totally understand. We can order in from Alexander’s and have a quiet night at home. Or, we can go out. I made a six-thirty reservation at Il Fornaio.”

Martinez looked down at his jeans and t-shirt. “I’m a little underdressed.”

“We don’t mind,” Yvette said. “But if you’d rather go home, we can do that too. Whatever you want.”

Martinez thought about it for a few seconds. “Home is wherever you ladies are, so why don’t we go out? Does that sound good?” he replied, turning to look at Eva.

She nodded her head vigorously, still clinging to his neck.

“Will you help me eat my lasagna?”

“Uh huh,” she replied.

“You look a little thin. Did you lose some weight?” Yvette asked, turning back toward the arrivals area.

“Oh, man! I can’t even remember the last time I had something good to eat.” He jumped his daughter a bit higher on his hip and started following Yvette before he noticed her figure. “You lost some weight too. Did you start running again?”

“No, but I found this amazingly effective diet plan called My Husband Isn’t Home. It makes all your food taste like cardboard.”

Martinez reached out and pulled her closer as they headed for the doors. “I got a new diet plan for us. It’s called Let’s All Go Get Fat.”

GREAT FALLS, MONTANA, UNITED STATES

The roar of the cab’s tires across the gravel receded into the distance. Thompson stood in the unpaved driveway of his grandfather’s ranch house, waiting for the sounds of his childhood to return. The buzzing of the insects in the field was the first thing he noticed. Though the sun was down and it was still early in the year, the cold didn’t keep them away. It was a constant low drone that only disappeared in the dead of winter. The next thing he noticed was the wind. There was nothing to block it for miles in every direction. Though it was gentle this evening, the sound was even more constant than the insects, only escaped by turning your head in just the right direction.

Susan’s old white Buick was in the driveway. She was probably waiting to see him before leaving for the night.

Thompson took a deep breath of the fresh air before walking the rest of the way toward the garage and turning to the right, underneath the covered porch.

The metallic squeal of the screen door ruined the quiet as a middle-aged woman wearing a purse over her shoulder came out the front door. “Oh, Eric! Welcome home.”

Thompson gave her a quick hug. “How’s Pops doing?”

“Oh, you know. Steady as ever.” She glanced down at the thin gold watch around her wrist. “I put him to bed about fifteen minutes ago, but he might still be awake.”

“Okay.”

“I saved you some dinner,” she added. “It’s in the fridge on the left side. I didn’t know if you would have time to eat on the way.”

“Thanks. I didn’t,” Thompson confirmed.

“He’s down for the night, and he usually sleeps well. I’ll be back in the morning around eight to make him some breakfast. If he gets up before then, just make sure he goes to the bathroom. And his morning pills are on the kitchen counter. He can take them with the juice in the fridge.”

Thompson nodded. “Good night, Susan.”

She smiled and patted his arm before walking toward her car. When she got around to the driver’s side, she stopped. “You know, it’s a good thing you’re doing for him. He’d never have made it this long in some home.”

Thompson smiled and looked down at the weathered boards under his feet. The porch was just a smaller picture of the ranch as a whole—old, barely functional, but still holding on. The bank loans and medical bills had eaten up his life savings, but it seemed like a better use of his money than the things other men his age might have used it for. “Well, he stepped up when no one wanted me, so …”

“You’re a good man,” she said with twinkling eyes.

Thompson waited there on the porch as she got in, started her car, and did a U-turn before heading down the mile-long driveway. When his grandfather’s homecare nurse had finally disappeared into the darkness, he turned and stepped through the screen door and into the house. The smell of cabbage soup gave the house a distinctly geriatric feel despite the mounted deer heads and rustic furniture that made it look like a young man’s hunting lodge. Thompson set down his duffle bag and walked through the family room toward the back of the house where his grandfather’s bedroom was. The door was closed but not latched.

He eased it open and leaned his head into the room. “Pops, you awake?” he whispered.

The only response was the steady, rhythmic sound of inhaling and exhaling made more pronounced by the mask on his face and the clear tubing that ran down to an oxygen tank next to the bed. The narrow shaft of yellow light that fell across the bedroom seemed to carve out every wrinkle on the old man’s face and his arm lying across his chest. Even though the lighting could make anyone look terrible, Thompson was still struck by the reality that the old man wouldn’t last much longer. He had smoked his whole life and refused to give up his cigarettes even when he knew it was bad for him. When he was diagnosed with stage-three lung cancer two years ago, he finally gave it up, though it didn’t stop him from complaining about the fact every day. And true to his stubborn self, he’d already outlived the doctor’s prognosis. But his time was fast approaching. Stubbornness could only get you so far.

Thompson pulled the door shut and headed back to the kitchen. Inside the fridge, he found cans of liquid nutritional supplement, bottles of water, and a container of leftover casserole. He let the door swing shut without taking any food.

A few minutes later, he found himself in the garage. Pops’ green ’71 Ford pickup was sitting in the right side bay with old mud splatter still caked on the wheel wells and tires. He tapped the mud with the toe of his boot and brittle clumps fell to the ground. In the left bay, he removed the tarp from the larger of the two vehicles. His F-150 still had the glossy sheen of a fresh wax job, even though it had been sitting for over half a year. He’d have to take it out tomorrow just to circulate the fluids.

From the back of the garage, a door opened into a room that was also accessible from the house. Thompson’s bedroom was exactly as he’d left it. His small bed, covered with a green wool army surplus blanket, was still tightly made, with all the corners perfectly folded like a Christmas present. A huge, black gun safe stood tall in the corner. The wood-paneled walls were mostly bare except for a few framed certificates of his childhood achievements and an oil painting of a Native American slumped over on the back of his horse. The arrows sprouting from his back and the empty fields behind him implied that he was the last survivor of a great battle.

Thompson stared at the painting for several minutes, remembering how many hours of his life had been spent imagining himself in those pale yellow fields, watching the battle from between tall blades of grass with the wind in his ears. The sense of adventure that it had evoked in him as a child had eventually taken him around the world many times over with real battles and missions as an adult. And now he found himself back here, in the quietest, loneliest place on earth.

C HAPTER 18

BASTUL OUTPOST

A low, distant trumpet blast brought Saba out of a troubled sleep. He sat up immediately, heart racing, ears straining. A second blast made his heart jump into his throat.

“To your stations!” he yelled. “Everyone to your stations!”

In the dull glow of torchlight from the hallway, Saba watched the room spring to life. Orudan soldiers in full armor, lying on blankets around the bare storage area, quickly jumped to their feet.

Saba grabbed a long, wool-wrapped bundle from the floor and slung it over his neck as the third trumpet signal sounded. He followed the soldiers out into a hallway that was now filled with men running in every direction. The air currents swirled, causing the flames of the wall torches to waver erratically, adding to the sense of chaos. But everyone’s movements were choreographed down to the minute, and the bustle was anything but chaotic.

Saba followed the hallways and ducked through doorways in a memorized pattern of lefts and rights until he came to one of the main arteries inside the outpost. He crossed the wide space and passed a line of soldiers who were already in formation in front of the far wall. A thick rope, the diameter of a man’s forearm, lay at their feet.

“Pull when I give the signal!” he yelled. “And tie off the rope as soon as it has reached its limit,” he said, pointing to the massive iron horn cleat that had been removed from the marina and mounted on the opposite wall of the passage.

“Yes, sir!” they replied in unison.

Saba grabbed hold of the rope ladder and began climbing up the wall toward the ventilation shaft drilled sideways through the passage. When he reached it, he pulled himself into the opening and crawled as quickly as he could. By the time he reached the other end of the ventilation shaft, he could already hear the sound of thunder. He turned over on his back and scooted his head out into the open air of the central shaft that ran vertically through the Temple from the peak of the mountain down to the portal chamber below.*

The night sky was clear and speckled with the white shimmer of stars. Seconds later, a ball of orange and red fire came into view, the source of the thunderous noise. When the fire appeared to grow in size as it descended, Saba flipped over onto his stomach and scooted backward into the ventilation shaft.

The thunder grew so loud that it began to shake the cold, black stone beneath him. Saba’s eyes were focused on the stairwell before him, and his heart was beating madly in his chest, anticipating the imminent conflict. He took several deep breaths to calm himself as the fiery light grew intense and moved toward his face. Everything else became black by comparison.

And then it was there—a column of fire shooting downward, tongues of flame curling outward, and a burning smell that he’d never experienced before.

Saba hid his face from the heat that threatened to scorch his skin. And when the intensity of the flame lessened, he glanced up and saw that the central shaft was empty once again. The scout had descended past his station.

“PULL!” he yelled, pushing himself up on his hands and toes to keep away from the rope that he had been lying on. “PULL!”

The coarse strands of braided rope flew backward in front of his nose, making a zipping noise as it slid over the edge of the shaft.

“Pull!” he could hear from behind as other groups were echoing the order.

All of a sudden, the rope jolted and came to a stop, springing upward to hit him in the cheek.

“Pull!” he heard again.

He waited three seconds for the group of soldiers to begin tying off the rope before he crawled forward to peer out of the ventilation shaft and into the stairwell. What had looked like a bundle of ropes gathered at the edge of the stairs was now a net pulled taut across the open space of the shaft. From the light of the fire column below him, Saba could see down the depth of the shaft as it quickly became a spider’s web of rope and nets, trapping the scout.

The column of fire burned through the net nearest to it, blackening the strands until they snapped and shriveled from the heat. It continued descending, burning through another net until its widest diameter seemed to become stuck. Suddenly, the net sagged downward and the column of fire shot sideways, where it hit the side of the stairwell. The rock beneath Saba’s body jolted with a shudder, and a metallic grinding noise pierced the air.

The shouting of soldiers could be heard from above.

The column of fire streaked across the stairwell and slammed into the opposite side, sending another jolt through the mountain.

“Shoot it!” someone yelled.

A low, resonant twang sounded from below, and Saba watched as an iron-tipped bolt glanced off the stairs across from him with a clanging noise and an upward scattering of sparks.

The fire column abruptly disappeared, and the central shaft became a pit of total darkness.

“Fire!” someone else yelled.

Another twang could be heard, this one from above, and less than a second later, a harsh metallic ping sounded in the shaft below Saba. For the briefest moment, a blue aura extended outward like a ripple on a pond from the source of the sound, the light moving across a three-dimensional object and defining its shape and structure. The bolt thrower that had been moved inside the central shaft at Saba’s request had found its mark.

The mountain shuddered again.

Saba’s hair and skin suddenly felt as if there were a gentle breeze blowing across them. The central shaft grew silent, and then a jagged flash of blue light illuminated everything. The bolt thrower at the top of the shaft burst into a million fiery splinters. The flash of blue lightning struck again, and another burst of yellow fire and splinters could be seen far below. The sound of ripping and tearing preceded another flash as the nets below began to give way before the invisible creature. The mountain shuddered again and a grinding noise accompanied another metallic shriek. Then an explosion erupted, and the column of fire returned, this time shooting upward.

Saba flinched as the heat reached his face, but he continued watching as something large and invisible pushed itself downward through the nets, flashes of blue lightning shooting out in all directions and scorching the inside of the passage. One by one, nets disintegrated and ropes snapped, some flying out into the shaft to entangle themselves around the monster that was trying to leave this world the same way it had arrived.

Each broken barrier allowed it to drop another level until it finally reached the opening in the ceiling of the portal chamber. It broke through the last net and fell into the chasm with random eruptions of fire that seemed to throw it sideways until it disappeared from view.

Dacien watched the large tangle of rope and nets fall from the opening in the ceiling. Spouts of fire shot sideways, sending the jumble of entanglements in the opposite direction until it landed with a thunderous crash on the other side of the cavern. The firelight from the few torches lining the perimeter of the portal chamber showed a massive cloud of dust rising from the sand floor.

Behind it, hundreds of soldiers in formation split apart and began running to the left and right, away from the cloud, but not out of fear. They had been instructed to clear the path of trajectory between the enemy and the bolt thrower beside Dacien.

“Aim for the center of the cloud,” he instructed the soldier manning the weapon.

“Yes, sir.”

“Fire,” Dacien said.

Twang!

The bolt shot across the cavern in an instant, passing through the cloud. A delayed impact noise indicated that they had hit the opposite wall of the cavern, missing their target.

“We need more light!” Dacien yelled.

At once, soldiers around the perimeter of the room removed the torches from the wall sconces and transferred the flames to handheld ones as well. A ring of fire lit the entire room as the cloud of dust began to settle.

The sound of rope being twisted to its straining point reached Dacien’s ears, followed by a rapid clicking as the soldier engaged the locking mechanism and loaded the next bolt.

In the dull light, row upon row of Orudan soldiers waited with weapons raised. The room was oddly silent given the masses who were gathered there.

Dacien watched intently, hoping that the dust would gather on top of their invisible enemy. But nothing of the sort happened. In the eerie silence, the only thing to be seen after the dust came back to the sandy floor was a pile of charred ropes.

“The footprints!” someone’s voice shattered the silence.

Thump, thump, thump!

Dacien scanned the floor of the cavern and saw a trail of circular impressions suddenly appearing in the sand, heading for the portal. “ATTACK!” he ordered.

A battle cry arose from the ranks and they immediately began closing in on the footprints.

Dacien turned to the machine operator. “Target three meters above the footprints and fire.”

“Yes, sir.”

The footprints continued toward the center of the cavern until splashes of water erupted from the moat surrounding the portal. The cage over the portal shook, then jolted, before one of its side panels snapped. The thick bars of iron bent backward with a terrible howling noise as an invisible force peeled it away from the rest of the cage.

Twang!

The bolt shot across the cavern and slammed into something substantial at the edge of the portal. A ripple of blue electricity crawled backward over a gigantic creature, peeling away its invisibility as if it were removing a cloak. The waters of the moat churned as something standing in it stumbled backward.

The battle cry from the ranks of the Orudan died on their tongues and their running advance faltered and came to a halt. A hush fell over the cavern.

In the waters of the moat, a gigantic mechanical creature stood. Its shape was like the merging of human and insect parts. It had two arms and two legs, but its head appeared to be buried inside its chest. Two rigid wings hung down from its back. Instead of skin, this creature was covered in plates of transparent material like gray and black glass, as if it were a crustacean pulled from the reef near Bastul. Smaller clusters of unknown appendages sprouted from various locations across its body.

“Reload,” Dacien whispered.

The eye in the center of the creature’s chest turned in Dacien’s direction. And just as soon as the nightmare locked eyes with him, the wave of crackling blue energy crawled over its body once again and it disappeared.

“Ready, sir,” the soldier whispered.

“Fire.”

Twang!

The bolt shot through the air and exploded halfway across the cavern where it met with a jagged concentration of blue light that appeared like a fissure in the air.

Dacien’s hair stood on end and a tingling sensation crept across his skin. He acted on instinct, jumping to the side before he even knew why. He hit the sand and tumbled as an explosion erupted beside him. A swarm of tiny objects pelted his skin, and as he rolled over and lifted his head, he realized he couldn’t hear out of his right ear. The bolt thrower and the soldier manning it were now just a scattering of wood chips, blood, and charred bits of flesh.

A chorus of noises swelled in his good ear like the wind blowing through a forest. Shouts of soldiers were mixed with the whir of arrows being launched. The dull sound of sandals beating against the sand merged with cries of agony. The spearmen at the front of the lines charged the creature, followed by ranks of swordsmen. The archers comprised the rear of the formation, sending volleys over their fellow soldiers. The fragile weapons of wood and metal struck the air and fell harmlessly to the sand beneath the scout. Some glanced off the invisible form, spinning wildly before splashing into the moat.

Wide shafts of jagged blue light appeared in the air, radiating from the portal. Entire legions of Orudan infantry fell at a time. Their bodies exploded into fountains of pulp while their clothing caught fire and armor dropped to the sand in smoking heaps. Blackened craters appeared along the perfectly smooth walls of stone where the light was finally absorbed.

Dacien scrambled across the ground like an animal while the lightning flashed over his head. A spear lay in the sand ahead of him and he crawled toward it. He knew the weaponry of Orud was primitive by comparison, and that he would never see Aelia or Suline again, but he would face his death as a soldier with a weapon in his hand.

The noise grew to a deafening volume. Explosions and death cries drowned out everything but Dacien’s thoughts as he crawled over sodden piles of smoking remains and clawed through the sand. Finally, his hand closed around the shaft of a spear, and he spun on his hands and knees until he faced the center of the lightning storm. Of the thousands of soldiers who had been gathered in the chamber, only a few dozen remained. More were coming into the room from the passage across from Dacien, the ones who had manned the nets in the stairwell, but the bulk of his forces were gone.

Aelia, my love, this is the end. Give Suline a kiss for me … and keep her safe.

Dacien lifted the spear from the sand and charged forward.

Saba gripped the edge of the ventilation shaft and slid his body out of the confined space. Letting go, he dropped through the air until he hit the stairs, falling down a few steps before coming to a stop. Far below, the battle cry of the Orudan filled the portal chamber. Blue streaks of lightning flashed across the opening, illuminating thousands of moving things as if Saba were looking down at the inside of an ant hill. The soldiers of Orud were desperately outmatched, and somewhere down among those helpless creatures was Dacien. How would he ever explain it to Maeryn if her son-in-law was killed? How could he ever look at Aelia again? Suline would grow up without a father, and Kael would lose one of his few friends.

In the darkness, Saba remembered Maeryn’s face and the fear in her eyes. Help Dacien. Do whatever must be done, she had pleaded.

Saba removed the bundle from his back and unwound the layers of wool from the crystalline scepter that had rarely left his sight in the last six months. Each flash of light from below shimmered through the fragmented veins beneath its surface. Functionally, it was a key. Symbolically, it was a token of power and authority. But in the hands of a skilled warrior, it was a weapon that couldn’t be destroyed, and one that had only nine equals in the Temporal realm.

His hand closed around it, and he lifted it from its cloth wrappings.

Holy One, my feet return to the paths of destruction. My hands reach out to make war. But my heart does not desire it.

The cries of dying soldiers drifted upward through the central shaft like smoke from an altar of burning sacrifices.

I fear that I intrude upon your plans.

Saba walked to the edge of the stairs as flashes of lightning and peals of thunder shook the cavern below.

Forgive me for what I am about to do.

He leaned forward into the open air and spread his arms, feeling his feet leave the security of a solid footing. The wind rushed past his ears, beating at his face, threatening to rip the clothes from his body. Every flash of light illuminated the spiraling stairs as he dropped through the cylindrical void between them. His chest tightened, and the beating of his heart seemed to rise into his throat. A prickling sensation spread through his fingers and toes, the fear of losing control mixed with the anticipation of the unknown. It was enough to paralyze an ordinary man until the moment his body hit the earth and felt nothing anymore. But Saba wasn’t a man, nor was he ordinary. Though he no longer wore the body of a winged soldier from the Eternal realm, he could never forget the exhilarating sensation of diving toward an enemy.

The central shaft suddenly disappeared, and the colossal openness of the portal chamber spread out before him.

C HAPTER 19

NORTHERN BRAZIL

A haze of humidity hung in the air, a semitransparent blanket that would congeal into rain clouds by the afternoon to redeposit whatever moisture had evaporated throughout the day. Few things ever escaped here; they usually just changed form to be used in a different way. Kael was no exception. Many people had given their lives so that he could escape this place. He had made it out and achieved his goal in this world with the help of strangers who later became his friends. And now he was soaring above the Amazon rainforest in a helicopter, painfully aware that he was a much different man than the one who had arrived here almost three quarters of a year ago.

The lower elevations were flat, with great rivers that wound through the green expanse like gigantic serpents. The higher elevations were rugged, with thick clouds gathered around the jagged peaks of mountains that looked like the serrated blades of some cruel weapon. Streams of white cascaded down their sides, water returning to its source. And there were other shapes that Kael could almost see—valleys and mountains that seemed like they were there until he looked directly at them. The whole place seemed like a mystery, an ancient land with many secrets.

“I wonder if this is what Nijambu looks like from the air,” Adair said.

Kael turned and smiled. “Are you nervous?”

A long moment passed with only the thumping sound of the rotor system pulsing through the cabin. “I used to have so much confidence about everything I did,” Adair admitted. “It’s different now.”

Kael left the comment without a reply. It sounded like his father needed to say more, but after several seconds of relative quiet, it was clear that Adair wasn’t going to elaborate. Outside the window, the crest of a mountain range passed beneath the chopper.

“We’re two minutes out,” the pilot’s voice announced through their headsets.

The mountains dropped into a steep and narrow valley that snaked northward. Kael could barely identify the places where the ocean water from his own world had ravaged the land on its way toward lower elevations. The destruction he had witnessed when he entered this world was barely recognizable now. Thick vegetation had already filled in all of the bare soil, leaving a slight depression where the water had flowed, like a dent in a smooth carpet of green.

The valley continued north until it ran into another east-west mountain chain, creating a bowl with a cluster of buildings at the center of its lowest point. Armaros’ former compound looked small from the air, and less intimidating now that Kael knew it wasn’t filled with enemy soldiers.

The chopper descended into the valley, and the pilot set the aircraft on the grass to the east of the portal building. As the pitch of the engines dropped, Kael took off his headset and slid open the door before stepping down to the wet grass.

A man in camouflaged CUs was coming across the landing field in their direction. He waved at them and yelled over the sound of the helicopter, “This way!”

Kael turned around to offer his father a hand, but Adair had already stepped out of the aircraft and was pulling a long, black box across the floor of the passenger area. Kael accepted the container from his father, and they both jogged across the grass with ducked heads.

“Kael. Adair. I’m Roger McKendrick, team leader for TAC Twelve,” the man said, turning to walk alongside them toward the building. “These are my boys here,” he said, pointing at four more men in CUs waiting at the southeast corner of the concrete structure. “Mr. Helmsley says we’re supposed to escort you down to the portal level, and if all goes well, we’ll get to see you guys vanish into thin air.”

“That’s the plan,” Kael said with a smile. “And I hear you boys took down Armaros’ men here in record time.”

McKendrick slowed his pace and extended his hand. “Nothing compared to what you did. Everyone’s talking about it. Null owes you a huge debt of gratitude and so does the rest of the world. Even if they’ll never know it.”

Kael shook the TL’s hand and noticed the nods of respect from the other four men who were now only a few meters away. They didn’t say anything as they turned and escorted Kael and Adair along the southern wall of the building toward the entrance. There was still evidence of TAC 1’s assault everywhere. Large chunks of concrete were missing from the walkway and low landscaping walls where grenades had exploded. There were hundreds of bullet holes in the side of the building, and Kael could only imagine what they had done to infiltrate the fortress and rescue him.

The small group entered the building through glass doors that looked new and crossed the lobby to a large cargo elevator that took them down to the bottom level. The doors slid open into a wide passage of white metal walls. As soon as Kael stepped out of the elevator, he noticed hundreds of long gouges running sideways across the thin metal panels. As he and the others moved down the passage, he could see that the white paint had been scraped off where the metal was bulged and punctured in many places, damaged by glancing gunfire. Kael’s eyes eventually drifted away from the walls toward the end of the wide hallway, where double doors waited to allow them entrance into the portal chamber. Between him and their destination were three intersections where narrower hallways crossed their path. This was where TAC 1 had been pinned down in a firefight before they reached the portal room to receive him into this world.

“They were outnumbered six to one,” McKendrick said.

Kael turned and noticed that the team leader was staring at him as they walked.

“Greer and his boys were taking fire from the end of the hallway and the side passages too. I imagine they were probably wondering how valuable the asset really was right about here,” McKendrick said as they passed the second intersection. “But no one’s asking that question anymore. Hindsight, right?”

Kael just nodded as he retraced the steps of his friends. The torn and twisted metal at each intersection emphasized the sacrifices they had been willing to make on his behalf. Even though they had achieved their objective and made it out of the building, they could have easily died right here in this hallway.

Something touched Kael’s shoulder. He flinched before seeing his father’s arm stretched in his direction. Adair wore a knowing smile.

Kael reached up and patted his hand without saying anything.

The double doors opened into the portal room, which looked the same as the last time he’d seen it. A circular space, sixty meters across, with exposed metal beams running horizontally and vertically. In the center of the room sat a low, round platform. Kael had come full circle, and though it had only taken half a year, it felt like much longer. It seemed that he would have a lifetime of stories to share with his family when he saw them again. Kael continued looking around the room until he saw that his father was staring straight up at the ceiling high overhead.

“This was all underwater when I came through,” Adair noted.

As strange as this experience was, Kael realized that it was even more significant for his father and suddenly felt guilty for being consumed by his own memories.

“I kept swimming, but the surface seemed so far away.”

Kael followed his father’s gaze and could imagine being underwater, looking up at the dull light of the surface. “We’re going home now,” was all he could think to say.

Adair lowered his head. “I don’t know if I ever said this, but thank you for coming after me.”

You’re welcome didn’t seem like an appropriate response, and Kael couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he smiled and then knelt to set down the long, thin box he’d been carrying. He unclipped the latches and opened the lid, then removed Armaros’ spear and handed it to his father. “Do you still know how to use one of these things?”

Adair accepted the ancient weapon with a gleam in his eye. “It’s not the Orudan design, but I think I can manage.”

Kael smiled and handed him Satarel’s dagger as well, before removing Rameel’s sword and Kokabiel’s sphere from the case. When he stood up, he noticed that the number of soldiers in the room had increased. There were now roughly twenty of Null’s tactical members present. Kael looked from one face to the next. They were strangers, yet they had all fought for the same goal that he had, which made them brothers. As he struggled to find something meaningful to say, McKendrick beat him to it.

“If there are more like you two on the other end, then everything is going to be just fine. We’ll see you soon.” He pounded his chest twice with a fist, and a second later the other soldiers did the same.

It summed up perfectly what Kael wanted to express, and so he simply returned the gesture. Then he looked at his father. “Let’s go home.”

Adair nodded.

They both turned toward the platform and, watching each other’s movements, stepped onto it at the same time.

“You might black out, but don’t worry,” Kael said, adding to the instructions they’d been discussing during their flight. “You’ll come through the same way you went in.”

Adair nodded, and just when Kael noticed the nervous look on his father’s face, his image began to distort sideways. A faint blue glow began to emanate from the air around them, and a tremendous pressure fell upon him from all directions. On instinct, Kael pushed his sense outward for protection. But his body no longer existed. His father was gone. The portal, the room, and the soldiers in it were gone as well. The only thing that remained was his own consciousness within a sea of nothingness. There were no smells or sounds. There was nothing to see. Nothing that could be used as a frame of reference to gauge distance, direction, or movement of any kind. Kael remembered this lack of sensation from his first time through the In-Between, and he waited patiently for it to pass.

Seconds lengthened into minutes, and when Kael’s patience wore thin, he wondered if it might have been hours or days that had passed instead. There was nothing to mark the time except his thoughts, and even those seemed to be affected by the disorientation of this void.

Eventually, his sense detected something far away. He focused on it, but it seemed to move away from him and toward him at the same time. As he expanded his sense to explore it, the unknown thing seemed at once insignificantly small and unfathomably large. The feeling of vertigo was terrifying, and Kael pulled his sense inward to make it stop.

At least there was now a discernable reference point. There was the unknown thing, and there was nothingness.

The thing became a point of light at approximately the same time that Kael became aware of both his body and the presence of his father beside him. The point of light was growing rapidly, and Kael sensed that they were moving toward it. No sooner did he recognize their direction and speed in relation to the light than it enveloped them both. They were suddenly swimming in a current of pulsating illumination. Strands of brilliant colors flowed around them like water, shimmering as they bent and twisted in their passage.

Kael and his father were being carried along with the current that was flowing between a triangle of three intertwined vortices of light. Each vortex pulled light from the one beside it, stealing strands of radiance from its outer fringes and sucking them inward in great spiraling paths, while simultaneously giving off light from its own perimeter. The give and take created a flow from one to the next.

Kael suddenly realized that he and his father were moving away from one vortex and toward another. The vortex behind them was the world they had just left. The vortex before them was the next one along the path of the natural flow—the world that neither one of them had yet seen.

Kael threw his sense outward, feeling for the strands of light. They were ethereal, yet just substantial enough to push against. As if he were swimming, Kael grabbed ahold of his father and pushed the threads of rainbow colors aside, feeling them move as a result of his efforts. He repeated the movement over and over. The force of the flow pulled them toward the next vortex as Kael worked his way inward toward the center of the triangle of vortices. The flow lessened at the edge and Kael’s progress increased exponentially. Suddenly, he and his father broke away from the current and swung around the perimeter of the vortex they had just left. When they came close to the perimeter of the vortex of their own world, Kael pushed off with his sense and they went spinning wildly into it, losing all sense of direction. Colors flashed before Kael’s eyes. Where there had been no sound before, now a rushing wind blew past, roaring at them from all directions. A crushing pressure forced itself inward on his body, and Kael felt as though his bones were about to shatter.

And then there was only darkness.

Time stretched out into eternity again. In the weightless nothingness, Kael realized that what he had just witnessed might have been different from his previous passage through the In-Between. The three vortices of light seemed much closer to each other than they had been before. Or perhaps he was simply more aware of their presence on this second passage. Eventually, his thoughts were interrupted by what looked like shooting stars. Small points of white light were rushing past him and his father. Like the current they had been swimming in before, these points split apart and flowed around them, rejoining each other on the other side. Then they tumbled in all directions as if they were smashing into something. Together, the collisions of light began to define a plane of existence. It should have been obvious, but when the surface curled around on itself and began to form a sphere, it still came as a surprise to Kael that he was seeing the inside of the Temple in his own world. It formed in front of his eyes, first taking shape and then color. But something was in the foreground blocking their view, like a silhouette before a bonfire.

And then the Temple was there.

The gigantic hemisphere of the chamber stretched out around them. Far above, through the wide hole in the ceiling, the spiraling staircase climbed upward toward the morning light. But something was terribly wrong. Tattered ropes and nets dangled from the opening like a spider’s web that had been damaged. Over their heads and surrounding the dais was a cage of thick iron bars that had been badly damaged on one side. Some of the bars had been broken into jagged edges, while others had been stretched to their limit as though pulled away from the main structure, leaving an opening large enough for four men to walk through side by side.

“What happened here?” Adair asked.

Kael turned to see the look of horror on his father’s face. Adair was standing on the dais next to him with the crystalline keys still in his hands. Beyond the dais and its surrounding moat, the sands of the portal chamber were littered with debris. Helmets, cuirasses, swords, and shields. All manner of Orudan armor and weaponry was scattered across the ground. Some were intact, others were in pieces. Most were darkened and discolored as if from fire. And the sand wasn’t the color of sand. It was dark. A ruddy brown color in most places, but brighter red where it was heaped into piles. There was a heavy odor hanging in the air that Kael couldn’t place.

“This is a recent battle,” Adair said, answering his own question.

Suddenly, Kael recognized the smell. Blood. It hadn’t been long enough for the stench of death to set in, but the smell of blood was thick in the air. He nearly gagged when he realized why the sands were darkened and that the mounds of red were the remains of Orudan soldiers. The stomach-churning revelation slowly transitioned to a need for caution. Kael’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.

“Come. Quickly!” he said, moving through the opening in the iron cage.

Adair followed, and they circled the outer edge of the dais before crossing the nearest footbridge over the moat. The water now had clumps of pale flesh floating near its edges. A scum of something on its surface distorted the light into bands of different colors. Kael resisted the urge to vomit as they crossed over. By the time his foot came down on the sands of the Temple floor, his sense had already identified several abnormalities on the battlefield. Though the entire area was one giant mystery, there was a common texture to it all. Weaponry and armor covered the sands almost as evenly as the remains of the soldiers who had wielded them. But on the north side of the chamber, two objects stood out from everything else.

Kael stepped cautiously over mounds of flesh. His mind sought an explanation for how they came to be, but he tried to focus on the possibility of an immediate threat instead. Each time he lifted his foot and set it down on the least revolting spot among the remains scattered over the sand, his eyes seemed to gravitate toward the charred body parts and the stark contrast between them and the other pale flesh.

“You said nothing of a confrontation …” Adair’s voice trailed off.

“This is new,” Kael answered. “As far as I know, the Empire has no more enemies capable of mounting an attack like this.” He was just about to add that this wasn’t the work of primitive weaponry when they reached the first of the abnormal objects. His statement would have been redundant.

A large piece of advanced mechanical equipment lay on the ground. It was as long as a man and four times as thick. One end was hinged and spread out into prongs, like the claw of a giant bird of prey. The other end was a tangle of wires and twisted metal. It looked as if it had been smashed through with something blunt but powerful. Beside it was a large impression in the sand where something had evidently fallen. Kael’s eyes followed a deep gouge that ran across to the wall of the cavern, exposing a path of fresh sand through the gore of the battlefield. He stepped into the furrow of clean sand and followed the path. With each step, Kael began to piece together what had happened, and as his understanding grew, so did his fear. When he reached the second, larger abnormality, this one lying against the wall, his fears were confirmed.

“They’ve been invaded!” Adair breathed. He had apparently reached the same conclusion.

Though the shadows were intense at the perimeter of the portal chamber, there was enough ambient light from the hole in the ceiling to make out the remains of the mechanical creature. Something had cut off one of its legs—the piece of equipment they had already passed. There was a hole right through the middle of its chest, obviously the wound that had killed it. But the creature was otherwise intact. It had two other appendages that ended in hands of some sort, but there were also clusters of what looked like sensors and other advanced devices, possibly weaponry. Its body was covered in an exoskeleton of transparent panels. A rigid wing stuck out above its body, reaching for the sky, while the one on the opposite side was crushed in the sand beneath its body.

Kael was just about to gather his sense for a thorough inspection of the creature when he detected movement. “Something is coming!” he whispered.

Adair followed his lead, and they both moved around the creature’s remaining leg and dropped to the sand between it and the wall.

Kael kept his sense spread broadly throughout the cavern, but the only movement he detected was inside the passage that led deeper into the mountain. Confident that the threat was only coming from that direction, he focused his sense there. The general feeling of movement transitioned into one of multiple individuals moving as a group. Pushing his awareness through the passage as though he were reaching out with his hand, Kael began to detect that the advancing force was made up of humans. Nineteen people came through the arched doorway into the portal chamber with weapons up and ready for battle. When Kael felt the tips of spears and the blades of swords, understanding dawned. These weren’t invaders from the next world. He felt the emblem of Orud embossed upon the soldiers’ shields, and relief washed over him.

The men were assembling into an assault formation.

Kael searched their faces and came across one with features he recognized.

“Show yourself!” a powerful voice commanded in the Orudan language.

Kael grabbed his father’s arm and stood up.

The soldiers tensed. The same voice shouted, “Who are you?”

“Kael Lorus, and my father, Adair Lorus, former colonel and governor of Bastul,” Kael replied in his native language, walking out of the shadows.

Though the light was dim, Kael’s sense helped him feel the look of absolute surprise that spread over Dacien’s face.

C HAPTER 20

BASTUL OUTPOST

Kael and Adair walked forward as a tall figure darted away from the group and ran across the cavern toward the cage at the center.

“Is that Saba?” Adair asked quietly.

Kael turned and watched his old friend make his way up the footbridge toward the dais. In one hand, he held the dark, gnarled form of his scepter. In the other hand, he had a helmet that he had retrieved from the ground. When he reached the perimeter of the dais, Saba tossed both items through the gaping hole in the cage to land with a clatter on the hard surface of the portal. The air began glowing blue, and the image of the cage seemed to swirl inward. The angle of the swirl gradually steepened before the reflected image fractured into hundreds of vertical shafts that were offset from one another. The helmet and scepter disappeared.

Saba’s hand was outstretched, and he looked as though he were lifting a great weight with his arm. All of a sudden, something transparent rose from the portal and shot toward Saba. When it came to rest in his hand, the scepter appeared solid once again.

“He’s sealing the portal,” Dacien said from only a meter away.

Kael turned and threw his arms wide, embracing his friend. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you, as well. I assume your journey was successful?” he replied, eyes glancing to Kael’s side.

Kael suddenly remembered his manners. “Oh, I’m sorry. Dacien, this is my father, Adair. Father, this is your son-in-law, Dacien Gallus. He’s the general of the Southern Territory.”

Dacien extended his hand. “Well, general of the Western Territory now,” he corrected.

Adair shook Dacien’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. I look forward to knowing you in person.”

Dacien smiled and replied with a nod of respect, though his eyes seemed to linger somewhere other than Adair’s eyes.

“What do you mean Western Territory?” Kael asked, suddenly realizing that the metal receptacles in his father’s temples would continue to surprise people even though he was used to them by now.

“The Empress intends to reestablish the land north of Leoran as its own territory. I was on the way to appoint my successor here when we learned that something had come through the portal. It killed two guards before it flew away. We determined that it was likely a scout and began preparing for its return as well as an invasion.”

“Did you say Empress?” Adair asked.

“I did,” Dacien replied before his mouth opened in surprise. “Of course, you wouldn’t know.”

“Mother?” Kael asked.

“Yes. The High Council voted to appoint our next ruler and your mother had a great deal of support from the former slaves and the Resistance. Not to mention the respect she had earned from the rest of the Council during the Korgan invasion.”

Kael smiled at the thought of his mother having achieved so much in the face of adversity, but when he turned and noticed the shock on his father’s face, he wondered if the news was having the same effect on Adair.

Adair’s distant eyes focused, and his mouth slowly spread into a wide grin. “I can’t wait to offer my congratulations.”

“I’m sorry for running off,” Saba shouted. He was still picking his way carefully across the floor of the cavern.

Adair walked toward his old friend with his arms open. “No need to apologize. I’m just glad to see you again, my friend.”

They embraced each other, and when they pulled apart, Saba leaned his head to one side. “What did they do to you?” It was what everyone else must have been wondering, but the compassion in Saba’s voice tempered the intrusive question.

Adair lowered his eyes and touched his temple. “An unfortunate side effect of my captivity, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I hope Kael made them pay for it.”

Adair smiled. “Indeed. Severely.”

Saba turned to lock eyes with Kael, and something passed between the two of them. It was almost tangible, though no words were spoken. It felt to Kael as though they had reached an understanding. Kael lowered he head slightly, as if to say, I accept the mantle you placed upon me.

Saba returned the gesture.

“What happened here?” Adair asked, breaking the silence.

Dacien surveyed the cavern with heavy eyes. “We planned an ambush for the returning scout, but there was no way to prepare for what it was capable of. We had ropes and nets to capture it. We had three bolt-throwers to impale it. And fourteen legions of Orud’s finest men. It returned last night, and I’m ashamed to say … it went through our ranks as though we were nothing more than wheat for the harvest. If it hadn’t been for Saba, we would all—”

“We’d like to honor them with a proper burial,” Saba interrupted, “but we don’t know where to start.”

Fire was the first thing that came to mind, but Kael immediately dismissed it. The Orudan would have seen it as a disgrace to their fellow soldiers to treat their remains as the Syvaku or Korgan would have. The fact that other cultures would have seen it as the chance to set their souls free from this existence made no difference. The remains would have to be buried, and the gruesome task would only become more critical with time as decay worsened the environment and invited scavengers to the feast. “Didn’t the Kaliel have equipment for grooming the Temple?” he asked.

“They did,” one of the soldiers answered. His left arm was missing and his upper body was wrapped in bandages. “We should be able to find what we need in the storage rooms on this level.”

“Kael, this is Lieutenant Oranius,” Dacien said. “I left him in charge of Bastul—”

“After the Syvaku invasion,” Kael interjected. “Yes, I remember. It’s good to see you again, Lieutenant.”

Oranius nodded. His face was paler than it should have been, but it was a miracle the man was even standing. “I can show you to the equipment rooms, but I’m afraid I won’t be much help with the labor.”

Kael was stunned by the man’s words. The lieutenant had lost so much, but his first concern was his lack of ability.

“That’s quite alright,” Adair offered. “You have sacrificed greatly in defense of the Empire. I have been away far too long and will take your place if you would allow me.”

Oranius bowed his head in respect. “Thank you, Colonel. I’m honored to have someone of such high standing serve in my place. And might I say, on behalf of the Empire, welcome home.”

Adair walked over to Oranius to share a few words with him in private.

Dacien turned to Kael with a serious expression. “I wish we had a feast and celebration waiting for you instead of this.”

Kael reached up and grabbed his friend’s shoulder. “There will be time for that later. Besides, I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

Dacien smiled. “Exactly what occasion are you dressed for?” he asked, eyes scanning up and down with a look of disapproval.

Kael looked down at the black combat uniform he was wearing. What had felt normal a few minutes ago was now painfully out of place. “I have so much to tell you.”

SHENANDOAH, VIRGINIA, UNITED STATES

Helmsley turned up the volume on his mom’s television and set the remote back on the coffee table.

“If you think about it, he’s the perfect candidate for the job,” the news anchor explained to his colleagues on the discussion panel. “When you have an Us-Versus-Them situation like this one, what you need is someone outside the conflict to act as a mediator.”

“Hold on, now,” another guest argued. “Let’s be careful about the labels we attach to this situation. The word ‘conflict’ implies some type of military action. I realize that the news entertainment business likes to sensationalize stories like this, but at this point, there hasn’t been any talk of military action.”

“But the threat is there,” another guest interjected. “And that’s the point. If a mediator doesn’t have the power to enforce his promises, he ceases to have any leverage over the situation. So, despite Sir Edwyn’s reputation as a philanthropist, he does have the backing of the UN. That’s what makes this such an interesting choice.”

The news anchor turned to face the camera. “Our topic of interest today is the UN’s rapid appointment of Sir Edwyn Pierce as a special ambassador to the Middle-East peace negotiations following his address to the General Assembly. Sir Edwyn was the founder of Unus Communications, a UK telecom company which grew over the last two decades to become one of the largest in the global marketplace. While his name was already synonymous with success in technology circles, he gained worldwide notoriety four years ago when he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his work in East Africa. What many didn’t realize at the time was that the human-rights efforts that earned him the Peace Prize were only part of a larger philanthropic campaign that he had been pursuing for many years. Sir Edwyn was invited to address the UN’s General Assembly when mounting tensions between Western and Middle East nations, and the possibility of a major military conflict, began to influence the global economy. In his trademark style, he cut right through the rhetoric and political positioning to the heart of the matter. He tackled the concept of fear and its role in a global system of commerce and then proceeded to lay out his vision for a peaceful future in what many are saying is one of the finest examples of oration in human history.”

A short pause in the anchor’s summary indicated that it was time to resume the discussion, and one panelist jumped right in.

“You know, if you study the great speeches—the Gettysburg Address, Dr. King’s ‘I Have a Dream’—what you’ll find is that these men appealed to principles that people of all cultures can get behind. Liberty. Equality. I’m one of those people who think this speech will go down in the history books, and I’ll tell you why. Rather than starting his address from the shaky platforms of national security or intelligence gathering that bogged down previous discussions, Pierce came at it from an entirely different angle. He confronted the real enemy—fear. And like other great orators, he opened a window into the human soul and let everyone see that our real issues lie within. We’re making these problems for ourselves.”

“I agree,” another guest said. “But I’d like to go back to something Gary mentioned a minute ago. Before Sir Edwyn was seen as a globally minded individual, he was a European businessman. To me, that just puts him in the same camp as the other Western nations. He may not be far enough removed from the situation, from a national perspective.”

“I disagree. I think his recent work more than overshadows whatever he appeared to be in his professional life. Not that it’s a negative, by any means. This man has the practical experience of countless business negotiations where trillions of dollars were on the line.”

“You mean trillions of pounds?”

The panel erupted in the type of laughter that can only come from tense individuals who are being publicly scrutinized.

“My point is,” the guest continued, “he’s a great candidate, no matter how you look at it. His political leanings distance him from the United States and the United Kingdom. He’s an atheist, so you can’t claim that he favors Christians, Muslims, or Jews. But he’s not an activist on that front either, so that’s a moot point. He has a diverse racial background. And he’s professionally qualified. If you’re looking for someone to bring unity to a tense situation, he’s the poster child. I couldn’t have picked anyone better suited for it.”

“I’d like to shift gears for a moment and discuss his travel schedule.” The news anchor turned his attention to a graphic, displaying the Middle East with multiple locations highlighted. “Twelve stops in four days—”

“I don’t see how you can watch that stuff,” Helmsley’s mom said from the kitchen. “It bores me to death.”

Helmsley grabbed the remote and turned down the volume before he noticed that his mother was pulling things out of her fridge and setting them on the counter. “Mom, you don’t have to cook. Why don’t you just let me take you out for a nice dinner?”

She scowled and waved a hand as if swatting away his ridiculous statement.

Helmsley got up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen. “Really. You should sit down and take it easy.”

She glared at him from under her prominent brows as if he were seconds away from getting a spanking. “You think I’m too old?”

She was in her late seventies, but Helmsley kept his mouth shut. He knew a trick question when he heard one.

“Besides, I eat out all the time,” she continued. “And I never get to see you, so …”

It wasn’t true, but Helmsley decided not to argue. She had played her cards well and had clearly won the debate.

Thwack!

Helmsley turned to see something small and white flying away from his mother’s back porch to land with a bounce in the groomed grass of her yard. It was an errant golf ball from the par four that hooked around the lake behind the houses in this part of the neighborhood.

“Morons!” his mother concluded. “Couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.”

Helmsley turned back to his mother. “Does that happen all the time?”

“Didn’t use to. Now it’s every other day.”

Helmsley looked back toward the window. “Someone could get killed by one of those things. Should I go talk to the management at the clubhouse?”

She waved her hand again. “I’m never out there anyway. Too busy.”

“Okay. Just let me know and I’ll walk over there and—”

“So you’ve met someone?” she interrupted.

The question was completely out of the blue, and it took Helmsley several seconds to recalibrate his thoughts. “What? Why do you say that?”

She smiled. “It’s all over your face.”

“Uh. Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Good. It’s about time.”

Now Helmsley smiled. It was a conversation that he’d already had with his mother many times over.

“Did you meet her at work?”

“Yes …” he answered slowly. “How did you know?”

“You work all the time, so it would have to be someone from the office. She’s not your secretary, is she?”

“No,” Helmsley answered. “Actually, she’s—” The phone in his pocket buzzed, and he grabbed it immediately, grateful for the distraction from this awkward conversation. “Sorry, Mom. I have to take this.”

She nodded before grabbing a red onion and setting it on the cutting board.

Helmsley stepped out the front door and stood on the porch. His mother’s neighborhood was quiet, and the meticulously groomed hedges lining her front walk grew into a tall enclosure around the porch, giving him all the privacy he needed. He tapped the screen on his phone. “This is Helmsley.”

“Director Helmsley. This is Ruslan Tokar.”

The deputy director of EOD insisted on addressing him by his title, even though Helmsley had mentioned several times that he was more comfortable with a relaxed approach. “Go ahead.”

“Sir, we have a hit on Armaros’ network data. One of our teams in Canada was following up on a facility. They uncovered something that you need to see in person.”

“In person? Can’t you describe it? This is a secure line.”

“I’m sorry, sir. The team leader knows you’re on vacation, but he specifically requested that you visit in person. I already have a flight booked for you.”

Whatever frustration Helmsley felt at having his vacation cut short was quickly overwhelmed by the sense of urgency in Ruslan’s voice. “Alright. Send the itinerary to my phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Helmsley hung up and stepped back inside his mother’s house.

“Was that someone special?” she asked with a musical lilt to her voice.

Helmsley grinned. “Just business. So, what are we having for dinner?”

LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM

Marshall hung up her phone and slid it back into her pocket. What she had just heard was setting off a chain reaction in her mind. At a deep level, where instinct lived, she knew that there were significant connections between what had just happened and the political situation she had been monitoring over the past few months. It was something so large that it needed to be diagrammed for proper comprehension. But on a shallower level, where trained reactions lived, Marshall’s thoughts were flying through logistics.

The sounds of the restaurant eventually broke through her thoughts and she realized that speed was of the utmost importance. She left the hallway near the toilets and made her way across the dining area, trying not to make a scene with her quick steps.

Brendan was sitting on the far side of the table and noticed her first. He set down his glass of wine. “Mother?” he said as soon as she reached the table. “What’s wrong?”

Liam and his wife, Amy, both turned around in their chairs.

Marshall sat down in her chair, but didn’t bother to scoot it closer to the table. She wouldn’t be staying long. She needed to get back to EOD before it was no longer possible.

“What’s going on?” Amy asked.

Liam set down his fork.

“Something has happened that is going to make travel very difficult for everyone,” she explained. “Liam, you and Amy shouldn’t have any trouble driving home if you leave in the next few minutes.”

“Mother, what are you talking about?” Brendan asked. The position of his eyebrows indicated that he was taking the matter seriously, as opposed to his typical look of skepticism.

“Brendan. Paris is a short flight, but you need to leave for Heathrow right now. If you’re in the air in the next hour or two, there’s a good chance you can make it home.”

Amy slid her plate away from her and leaned back from the table. “Rhiannon, you’re starting to worry me. What is going on?”

“You’ll hear the details come out on the news over the next few hours, but right now, you just need to trust me.”

“Mother, I’m sorry,” Brendan said, “but you have to explain yourself. Did the stock markets crash or something? Why would that affect travel?”

“This has nothing to do with the banking industry,” Marshall admitted. “It will certainly have an impact on it though.”

Liam took his phone out of his pocket and began tapping the screen, presumably surfing the news feeds for information.

“Why won’t you just tell us what’s going on?” Brendan demanded. “And why would you know before anyone else?”

Marshall got up from her chair and leaned over to kiss her eldest son on the forehead. “I have to go. Just promise me you’ll get home as quickly as you can.”

Brendan nodded, his forehead creased.

Marshall turned and kissed Liam on the forehead, then gave Amy a hug. “Give the girls my love, and tell them Grandma misses them already.”

Amy smiled, but her eyes were filled with worry.

Marshall choked down her own emotions and left the table, weaving through the dining area toward the bar and the restaurant’s exit.

“Turn that up,” one of the patrons said to the bartender.

Marshall looked up as she walked through the less densely populated part of the restaurant, noticing the television behind the counter. The bartender grabbed a remote and pointed it at the screen, but Marshall didn’t stop to listen. The bold caption running across the bottom was just the first of many shocking revelations that would roll out to the public over the next twenty-four hours.

BBC Breaking News: Unconfirmed reports of explosions and fires at multiple oil fields in the Middle East.

C HAPTER 21

OFF THE COAST OF BASTUL

Kael stood at the bow of an Orudan ship, its sails full of an easterly breeze. Waves lapped at the hull, and the bay of Bastul could be seen in the distance just starboard of their current course. With the setting sun on his back, Kael watched the shadow of the wooden vessel pass over the sea, bringing an end to the shafts of sunlight that tried to pierce the depths of the emerald water. Bits of foam and kelp drifted across the surface, their colors changing as the shadows reached them. The salty air brought back the few memories of his childhood that were pleasant and also reminded him of sailing with Gryllus. The ocean had always been a soothing place for his soul, a horizon of new and exciting possibilities. The peaceful simplicity of his surroundings might have lulled him into a trance if it wasn’t for the unexplained presence far to the south.

He had been reaching out with his sense to determine the distance to Bastul when something caught his attention off the starboard side of the ship. It felt as though another landmass was there, beyond the limits of sight—a coastline of some foreign land. Despite the fact that he knew there was only a vast ocean to the south of Bastul, he couldn’t deny what could be felt with his other sense.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kael turned his head to see his father walking toward him along the portside railing.

Adair came up beside Kael and leaned over the gunwale. “Many nights I lay awake thinking about this ocean. It looks exactly as I left it. And yet …”

Kael waited.

“It’s difficult to think about how much time has passed,” Adair finished.

“It seems to me that change is inevitable,” Kael replied. “I used to sit over the cliffs at the monastery. For hours, I would just look out over the ocean, and the world seemed so big and still. It was as though time didn’t matter. But now that I look back, I see how quickly things were changing. I was becoming something else from each day to the next.”

Adair exhaled and watched a gull fly low across the water off the port bow.

“But there’s a part of me that has never changed,” Kael added.

Adair smiled.

“I think you’ll find the same to be true of Mother.” Kael let the comment hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Whatever she is now, was there all along. The circumstances she faced may have brought out a different side of her personality than what you experienced, but it’s still her.”

Adair reached up and patted Kael’s shoulder. “Thank you. I hope you are right.”

A long moment of silence passed before the cry of a gull drew their attention up to the mast where another bird had perched itself.

Finally Adair spoke again. “Well, you seem to know exactly what’s on my mind, but I can’t seem to decipher your thoughts. What’s troubling you?”

“The scout in the Temple,” Kael answered.

“Saba sealed up the portal, so we shouldn’t be at risk anymore. Unless I’m missing something.”

“Did you notice the way it looked?”

Adair’s eyebrows came together.

“The design of it is what’s bothering me,” Kael clarified. “The technology. The construction of it. Even the lines of the cloaking panels … the whole … aesthetic,” Kael said, suddenly switching to English in the absence of an appropriate Orudan word to describe the idea.

“I’m not familiar with that term,” Adair admitted.

“The weapons system that we blew up in Aksai Chin—it wasn’t Armaros’ technology. All this time I … Kokabiel thought that Armaros was developing and manufacturing his own technologies, but someone was supplying him.”

“From the next world?” Adair asked, carrying the realization to its next logical step.

“Right.”

“Why does that matter?”

Kael pushed himself away from the railing and stood up. “Armaros controlled the portal in Brazil, which means that he could have imported all of his technology from the next world. And if that type of relationship did exist, I have to assume that the sharing of information and technology flowed in the other direction as well.”

“Go on.”

“Armaros and Kokabiel were partners, however distant they wished to keep their relationship. They were supposedly working toward the same goal. So what would have been the reason for Armaros’ secrecy about where he was getting his technology? And another thing. You saw how advanced that weapons system was, and we all witnessed the results of what one scout did to fourteen legions of Orudan soldiers. If Armaros had access to superior technology the whole time, why did he place such an emphasis on integrating Kokabiel’s work?”

Adair lifted his hand to his chin, letting his sight drift out toward the horizon as he listened.

“Kokabiel’s specialty was biological life forms and their building blocks. He shared some of that technology with Armaros, and that partnership resulted in the super-soldiers, as Helmsley kept calling them. I wonder if Armaros was supplying the next world with Kokabiel’s technology as payment.”

“But they wouldn’t need it if they already had something more advanced,” Adair repeated Kael’s earlier idea.

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Perhaps they do need it. The weapons system on Armaros’ base and the scout at the Temple were both purely electromechanical systems. And the whole point of the integration testing was to take steps toward allowing demonic possession of beings and weapons that would simultaneously exist in both realms. I assumed that we were … that Kokabiel and Armaros were replicating what had already been done elsewhere. But now I’m reconsidering that assumption. Perhaps Kokabiel’s technology was far more critical than I realized.”

“Which would only make our victory all the more devastating to the enemy,” Adair pointed out.

“True, but a change of assumptions leads to a change of conclusions. And it’s unsettling to think that I may not have fully understood what we were doing.”

Adair nodded. “Well, we knew that the situation in the next world could be even more complicated than what we’ve just dealt with, but there’s a limit to what we can plan for. I think it would do your heart and mind some good to step away from the problem for a while.”

Kael turned and noticed that the ship was pulling into the bay of Bastul and there was a small gathering of people standing at a rebuilt section of the docks. His father’s timing was impeccable. “Well said. I suppose we have some introductions and reunions to concentrate on for the time being.”

Adair smiled and turned his gaze across the bay. His joy seemed to fade as he scanned the shoreline.

“Your city is only a shadow of what it once was,” Kael said, “but the citizens are resilient.”

“Yes …” Adair mumbled, but nothing more came from his mouth.

The remaining soldiers immediately went to work securing the ship and bringing in the sails. When the gangplank was extended, the gathering of people from the shore had nearly reached the ship.

“Are you ready to meet your daughter?” Kael asked.

“I’ve never been so nervous in my whole life,” Adair admitted.

Kael smiled. “Consider it practice for seeing Mother again.”

Adair watched Dacien step onto the docks and head straight for a young woman with long, dark brown hair. They embraced each other, and he whispered something in her ear. Saba followed him off the gangplank and greeted the woman as well, then he and Dacien both exchanged words with another woman holding a baby. Several paces behind them, three of Oranius’ soldiers stood at attention.

Adair slowly looked to his side and realized that Kael was waiting for him to take the first step. With a deep breath, he started moving across the deck of the ship and over the gangplank until he was standing in front of a beautiful young woman with eyes that looked familiar. Despite her short stature, she carried an aura of royal dignity. She had Maeryn’s eyebrows and lips, but the rest of her features had obviously come from her father.

“Aelia?”

She nodded slowly. There was both willingness and apprehension in her eyes.

Adair wanted to throw his arms around her and lift her off the ground, but he knew that would be uncomfortable and awkward for her. She was young, but not a child, and even though he loved her deeply, she was still a stranger for now. He decided to break the tension with honesty.

“When Kael found me and told me that I had a daughter, it was almost too good to believe. As a new mother, I know you understand the joy that a child brings. But I have to admit that I’m also terribly nervous.”

Aelia pressed her lips together as her eyebrows lowered.

“There are few people as important to me as you are, and yet I’ve missed your whole life. I’m a stranger to you.”

Aelia slowly reached out and curled her fingers around Adair’s hand. “You’re not a stranger to me. I’ve been thinking about you ever since Mother told me who my real father was. And I can assure you that I’m just as nervous. Perhaps we should both allow ourselves the freedom to breathe easier and enjoy this moment.”

Adair smiled. “I would like that.”

The corner of Aelia’s mouth turned upward. “Why don’t you come meet your granddaughter?” she said, still holding onto Adair’s hand.

BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA

“At this time, it is still unconfirmed whether or not the explosions were in fact the result of terrorist activity. However, with all of the Middle East’s major oil fields on fire, and many of its minor ones as well, it is difficult to imagine any other explanation. Now, to give you some context for the scope of this incident, our research team has put together a map.”

The news feed cut to a graphic showing a map of the region with animated fire icons scattered everywhere. Each one was larger than it needed to be, giving the impression that half the world was on fire.

“If you combine just these two oil fields here, Ghawar in Saudi Arabia and Burgan in Kuwait, it is estimated that they account for upwards of 15 percent of the world’s crude oil. When you consider the hundreds of others that are burning, it becomes a safe assumption to say that a large percentage of the world’s oil production is severely affected. To explain the implications of this, please welcome today’s special guest, Dr. Khalid Muzar, author of the New York Times bestseller, ‘Oil: The Fuel of a Global Economy.’”

“Do you need us to report for duty?” Greer asked, holding a phone to his ear.

Sean watched him from across the room for a moment but couldn’t draw any conclusions from one side of the conversation, so he turned his attention back to the television.

“If this is a terrorist attack, why the oil fields instead of, say, the refineries?” the anchor asked.

“Because it is the source. And while this has been reported as a blow to the transportation industries, it affects the production of all petroleum products, not just fuel for your vehicle.”

“Can you give us a few examples?” the anchor asked.

“Yes, of course. Things such as kerosene, diesel, wax, asphalt. And more common products like plastics, detergents, and solvents. Even the nylon and polyester in your clothing.”

Trina came into the room from the kitchen. She had a spill-proof cup under one arm and another in her hand. “Do you guys have to leave again?” she asked, tightening the lid. She sounded nervous.

“I’m not sure,” Sean answered. “I’m waiting for him to get off the phone.”

Trina glanced at the television. “Devon said you haven’t been with Delta Force very long. Are you liking it so far?”

Sean tried to keep from showing his surprise. “Yeah, I am. It’s challenging, but he’s showing me the ropes.”

Trina smiled. “That’s his favorite part of the job.”

A loud crash sounded from upstairs, and Trina suddenly looked up at the ceiling. “I’d better go up before they tear the whole house down.”

“Good luck,” Sean said with a grin. She would need it; the older children were at school, but the twins seemed to have double the amount of energy of normal human beings. It wore Sean out just watching her chase the rugrats around the house.

By the time Trina had disappeared up the staircase, Greer had finally hung up the phone.

“What’s the verdict?” Sean asked.

Greer came across the room and sat down on the couch. “It’s definitely a terrorist attack. But Helmsley says all the agencies are on it full time, so there’s no reason for us to be in the field.”

“Yeah, about that. When are you going to tell your wife that you’re not with Delta Force anymore?”

Greer’s eyebrows shot up, and he suddenly looked over toward the staircase. When his eyes came back to Sean, he had a finger in front of his mouth. “Keep it down,” he whispered.

“Well?” Sean asked quietly.

Greer exhaled in defeat. “I wanted to tell her about Null, but Trina likes stability. A lot.”

“And that’s why you moved her and the kids all the way down here from Georgia?”

Greer frowned. “I couldn’t have them so far away, but it was a rough transition. It’s taken years for things to level out, and I don’t want to rock the boat. Besides, I’m doing the same kind of work; I’m just doing it for different people now.”

Sean shrugged.

“Hey, when you have a wife, four kids, and a mortgage, then you can judge,” Greer added.

Sean grinned and looked back at the television.

“—so it makes perfect sense that the price is skyrocketing. The supply is threatened,” the doctor explained. “The first effect will be widespread famine across Africa. Eventually, all other countries will follow because we all depend so heavily on transportation for our food. Agriculture itself will be the next to suffer as the availability of pesticides disappears and production equipment can no longer be operated without fuel. I anticipate this will trigger a global rationing of food supplies.”

“Your predictions seem quite grim, Dr. Muzar. Is it possible that you are overstating the problems? We witnessed the oil fires in Kuwait during Desert Storm, and as significant as that was in terms of pollution, it didn’t trigger the catastrophic events that you’re suggesting.”

“Certainly,” the doctor replied. “But—”

“And those fires were eventually put out,” the news anchor continued.

The doctor smiled. “What your viewers must understand is that this incident is on a much larger scale. Essentially, a major component of the world’s oil supply is experiencing a massive hiccup. Yes, these fires will be put out. But the disruption, however long it lasts, is enough to set off a chain reaction that I believe will turn out to be quite significant, indeed.”

“Well, thank you Dr. Muzar for your fascinating predictions. It’s always a pleasure to have you on the show.”

“The pleasure is mine.”

The anchor turned to face the television audience. “After the break, we’ll take a look at the startling increase of unexplained atmospheric phenomena being reported around the world. Millions of people are claiming to see mountains and other terrain where none exist. Some even say they are seeing ghosts. Are these apparitions real, or a product of our doomsday fears? Sheryl Hadley tries to get to the bottom of this story in our next segment. Stay tuned.”

TORONTO, ONTARIO, CANADA

Helmsley stepped out of an armored SUV onto wet pavement. Puddles of standing water in the parking lot of the massive industrial building rippled with a steady but light drizzle. Lowlying clouds blanketed the skies with a dull gray color, but visibility was still good to the southeast where Lake Ontario stretched to the horizon. Even though it was midday, the two-story building’s exterior lights were on, reflecting from the pavement in distorted yellow blotches.

“Sorry to interrupt your vacation, sir,” the team leader said. He had come across the parking lot to greet Helmsley while the rest of his team waited at the front door of the building.

“It’s alright, Mark. Sounds like it was important.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, looking surprised that Helmsley knew his name. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you what we found.”

Helmsley nodded and followed the team leader across the parking lot to a gap in the thin strip of grass along the exterior of the building. The blacktop transitioned to a small pad of concrete before a single opaque glass door. One of Mark’s men held the door open, and Helmsley walked into a run-down lobby with a wood-paneled reception desk. They followed the stained industrial carpeting through a drab cubicle environment on the right until they reached a steel door at the back of the room.

“All of this is for show,” Mark explained, punching a code into the ten-key pad on the wall. A harsh electronic whine was followed by a sharp click. He pushed open the door and stepped into a narrow hallway that turned to the left.

Helmsley followed, inspecting the grated floor and ceiling in the narrow passage. There were several large steel pads on the wall that looked like oversized buttons.

“Air shower, to knock off particulates,” Mark explained.

A door at the end of the hall opened into a square, glass room with personal protective equipment hanging from hooks. Mark headed across the gowning area without changing his clothing and opened another door, holding it for Helmsley.

When Helmsley walked through, he realized why the team leader had insisted on his presence. He was standing on a catwalk, looking out into a three-story space that appeared to be a highly advanced manufacturing facility. The ground dropped away, creating an additional floor below the street level and placing them in the middle of the three floors. There was a steady hum of noise that sounded like a mixture of air handlers, electricity, and running water. Bulk tanks of chemicals extended in long rows, with plumbing sprouting from their tops to supply the rest of the equipment. The flicker of multicolored LEDs and equipment displays was bright, even though the whole facility was well lit with fluorescent tubes.

Helmsley followed Mark and his men across the catwalk toward the equipment, staying on the middle level. When they reached solid flooring again, Helmsley noticed a large fluidic chamber with something suspended at its center. Bubbles trickled upward around pale flesh, and it immediately gave him the chills. “Are these super-soldiers?”

“No, sir. These appear to be all human, as far as I can tell. Manufacturing is here on this level. Utilities are below us, and storage is up there,” he said, pointing at the ceiling.

Helmsley looked down the row of glass enclosures at the grotesque sight, wondering if this was Armaros’ attempt to copy what Kokabiel had been doing in Antarctica.

“You need to see the storage area, sir.”

Helmsley nodded, following Mark up a metal staircase that took them through a hole in the ceiling. On the storage level, the fluid chambers were gone and in their place were dozens of wide steel doors on either side of a hallway. Each door had a small glass window that looked into the cryogenic chamber behind it.

“This is why I wanted you to come,” Mark said, pointing casually at the first door.

Helmsley stooped and looked through the window to see a naked man lying on a table. His hair and skin were white, but it seemed that his coloring had more to do with his temperature than his genetic makeup.

“Does he look familiar to you?” Mark asked.

Helmsley leaned his head to the side and studied the man’s face. Recognition came slowly, but when it arrived, it brought a flood of assumptions and questions. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed, bringing his hand up to massage the back of his neck.

“Exactly what I thought, but I used more colorful words,” the team leader agreed.

Helmsley’s eyes lingered on the face, trying to come up with some explanation for why he was staring at the UN’s newly appointed special ambassador. After a few seconds, he turned to look at Mark and pointed down the hallway. “Are all of these the same person?”

“This row is, but here’s the weirdest thing. This guy’s maybe, what, in his mid-fifties?” Mark walked to the next door. “Here’s another the same age. The next two look roughly ten years younger. And the pattern keeps going all the way to the babies on the end. Two of each, spaced ten years apart.”

Helmsley was aware that his face was wrinkled in disgust, but he didn’t bother hiding it. The notion of cloning a human being was revolting enough, but growing one from scratch like it was a widget on a production line was reprehensible. He walked slowly along the row of chambers, stopping at the two containing men in their thirties. Not much was known about the special ambassador before he had started his telecom company twenty years ago. Helmsley wondered if the reason was because he had been birthed into the world as an adult—one who was now conducting peace negotiations in the Middle East with the fate of the world in his hands.

A primary and an alternate for each generation, Helmsley thought. Or a variety of ages to accommodate any situation? But why would Armaros need that? The same, genetically identical person?

“Did you say there were others?” he asked finally.

“Yes, sir,” Mark replied. “Two more.” He pointed at the other rows of metal doors with small windows that allowed a view inside.

Helmsley stepped over to the next row and looked in. This man had black hair, and his skin was darker. He had wide-set eyes with a prominent brow and nose. His face didn’t look like anyone that Helmsley knew. He wandered down to the end of the row and then stepped across the aisle, eventually coming back to the first chamber to peer through the tiny window. The result was the same—he didn’t recognize either of them.

Standing up to his full height, Helmsley looked across the three rows of cryogenic chambers. The pattern was consistent. Two of each individual from infancy to adulthood, separated by ten years.

Armaros, what were you doing?

C HAPTER 22

THE SOUTHERN OCEAN

Kael stood before a crate in the cargo hold of the ship. A wool cloth was spread out on its top, and five of the Myndarym keys were laid out in a row, sparkling even in the darkness of the hold. He’d come down into the belly of the Orudan vessel with his old friend to stow away the keys he had recovered from this and the next world.

“Saba. What happened to the third key?”

“Hmm?” Saba mumbled, looking up from the crate he was inspecting.

“We have the three keys from the next world, but from this world, we only have your scepter and Rameel’s sword.”

“That’s your sword now,” Saba corrected.

“But where’s the third?”

A moment of silence passed before Saba mumbled, “Here we go.” He straightened up to a standing position with a bottle of wine, holding it up to a thin shaft of daylight coming through the planks of the ceiling. “This will do just fine.” He came over and stood next to Kael, looking down at the assortment of keys on the wool cloth. “Baraquijal didn’t have a key. He died before they were created.”

“Oh,” Kael replied, suddenly remembering that part of Saba’s story as he rolled up the cloth and set the bundle in another crate on the floor.

“I found something to accompany our meal. Shall we?” Saba asked, nodding in the direction of the stairs.

Kael smiled and followed his mentor up to the deck, where the air was cool and the midmorning sky was bright, with only a few wispy clouds to the east. They had just set out from Bastul and would be sailing north along the coast between the Island of Tur’cen and Orud’s Southern Territory.* The journey to Orud would take sixteen days, and Kael was grateful to have a few of the soldiers, who were also returning home, to pilot the ship.

When they reached the galley at the stern of the boat, Tabia was already serving the meal of roasted fish that she had prepared.

“Isn’t it early for wine?” Dacien asked.

“Nonsense,” Saba replied. “We’re celebrating.” He broke the seal and set the bottle down in the middle of the table.

Dacien, with his arm around his wife, turned his attention back to the story that Adair was in the middle of telling.

“Then he reached over and just grabbed it off her plate.”

Aelia was smiling. “What did Mother do?”

“Nothing. She just let him have it. And then Kael put the slice of lemon in his mouth and both of us just watched him.”

The skin over Aelia’s nose wrinkled.

“He started chewing it, and we must have waited ten seconds for some sort of reaction, but nothing happened. He didn’t even make a face. He just kept chewing it like it was any other piece of food. Maeryn and I started laughing so hard that it startled him and then he began to cry, which only made us laugh harder for the irony of the whole situation.”

Aelia turned and looked up at Kael. “Mother never told me that story.”

“It was amazing. He would eat anything,” Adair added.

Kael smiled at his sister and father. It was a relief to see that they were getting along so well. He quickly patted his stomach before sitting down. “What can I say? I was a growing boy. I’m pleased that my lack of a discerning palate could bring you all so much joy.”

Dacien and Adair laughed.

Aelia smiled and looked down at the baby in her arms. “I can’t wait to find out what type of person Suline will turn out to be.”

“Like her mother, I hope,” Dacien replied, leaning over to kiss his daughter’s forehead.

Tabia set the last plate down on the table and then took her seat.

“This looks amazing,” Saba observed. “We are all very grateful for your many talents, Tabia.”

“Thank you,” the young woman replied with a shy smile.

“So, Tabia,” Adair said, “you receive payment from the Empire for your services now?”

“Yes.”

“That’s fantastic,” Adair exclaimed. “I never thought I would see the day. Do you have any plans after helping with Suline?”

She smiled. “I don’t know. I’m happy to help Miss Aelia with anything she needs.”

There was a long pause as everyone waited for the former slave to elaborate. When she didn’t, Dacien jumped in. “I suppose the point is that she can do whatever she wants. Though Aelia and I would both miss her very much if she decided to leave.”

“You could open a tavern in Orud,” Saba suggested. “And if you do, please let me know the day it happens. I would certainly be a regular patron of your establishment.”

Tabia put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile.

ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA

Marshall was supposed to land in Moscow, but in mid-flight the FAA grounded all commercial air traffic due to instrumentation interference, and probably fears that it was another attack in progress. Soon after, its foreign counterparts followed suit and the pilot had to change course to comply with the edict from the Civil Aviation Authority. The drive from St. Petersburg to EOD in Moscow would take about nine hours, which would give Marshall plenty of time to catch up on sleep from her red-eye flight. But first, she wanted to see footage for the latest development on the terrorist attack, the largest in human history if you were the sort of person to exclude large-scale warfare from that category, which she was. In the back of a discreetly armored SUV, she pressed the up-arrow button on the center console and watched the TV screen cycle through channels. Many of the satellite stations were showing the same footage, and she stopped when she found one with good resolution that appeared to be on the verge of replaying the footage from the beginning.

“—has been confirmed. The latest estimates suggest that as much as 25 percent of the world’s crude oil production has been halted. We’re only in the second day of this catastrophe, and already experts are saying that, in terms of monetary losses, this is by far the most significant terrorist attack to date. A total of four hundred and thirteen people are confirmed dead, and that number continues to rise as rescue crews attempt to move into the fire zones. Military resources from around the globe are being mobilized to shore up the deficiencies of disaster relief organizations, but many fear that this demonstration of support is little more than a smokescreen allowing the affected governments to move their forces into these areas and protect their oil interests. Once again, we have breaking news on the suspected terrorist attack. Eighteen minutes ago, video footage surfaced on the Internet of this man claiming responsibility. His identity is not known at this time, but sources at the White House confirm every effort is being made to identify the man and verify the authenticity of the footage. We’ll replay it again so that you can hear, first hand, the motives behind the attack.”

Marshall tried to ignore the contradiction of using unverified footage to prove motives, and focused instead on the footage that now occupied the entire screen. The man’s Arabic was being translated into English that appeared at the bottom in yellow letters. The gray concrete wall behind him had no identifying characteristics. The room was dark, and the cloth that wound its way around the man’s head and neck cast dull shadows across his face. Normally, these types of videos featured a man whose face was entirely covered. This person was either stupid or didn’t care that every facial recognition program on the planet would be analyzing his features. A prominent brow. A large nose that stuck out between wide-set eyes. Not exactly unique. But it was careless of him to show his face, unless he wanted people to know who he was or was just taking responsibility as a diversion.

“It has corrupted our people as much as the infidels. For too long, we have rested upon the security and leverage of our oil. We do not need it. Allah is our security. Jihad is our leverage. The time has come to sever our dependence upon the West. We reject your lies. We reject your puppet and his message of a secular unity. We denounce your false religion and our leaders who have bowed to it. It is time to expose the corrupt … and the whoremongers. It is time to purify ourselves for the coming of the Mahdi.”

It was the standard rhetoric, but the attack was larger and more intricate than these groups were typically capable of, which left Marshall wondering if this man might actually be responsible for it all. As her gaze drifted out the window, she noticed something moving on the side of the road up ahead. She squinted, trying to make sense of the shifting colors and shapes. As the SUV sped past it, Marshall whipped her head to the side. She caught a glimpse of what looked like an animal, but it was semitransparent. She turned around the other way and looked out the back window.

Receding into the distance was a person standing up to full height. It might have been a man or a woman, she couldn’t tell. It had long hair and was covered in shaggy clothing that could have been animal skins. It held a long spear and watched the car with a frightened curiosity as its face and body slowly faded from view.

Marshall spun around in her seat. “Did you see that?”

The driver glanced up in the rearview mirror. “See what, ma’am?”

“We just passed something on the side of the road.”

“What was it?”

“I’m not sure,” Marshall admitted.

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t see anything except that truck we passed back there. If you think we’re being followed, I can contact EOD and arrange for extra security.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” she replied, wondering if she was subconsciously giving in to the ridiculous ghost sightings people had been reporting all over the world.

C HAPTER 23

THE ROYAL PALACE

ORUD

The circular courtyard of the Royal Palace stretched out before Maeryn. All was deathly quiet except for the distant clopping of hooves and the pounding in her chest. A contingent of guards stood at attention behind her, but they were experts at being still and anonymous, so Maeryn didn’t even have so much as a shuffle of feet to distract her from the overwhelming reality of what was about to happen.

Less than an hour ago, a messenger had burst into the throne room to tell her that General Dacien had returned from Bastul with Princess Aelia and Lord Saba. The general had dispatched him from the docks with the urgent message that her son Kael and her husband Adair were also with them and to prepare for their return to the Palace. Maeryn could read the confusion on the messenger’s face when he had uttered the word husband, but the flood of emotions that rushed through her instantly washed away everything but her own thoughts. Her responsibilities as empress, the subject of her meeting with the guild leaders, the passage of time—everything had faded until she found herself in this moment, standing in the courtyard, waiting to meet the man that had ceased to be part of her life, but not her heart, twenty-three years ago.

The clopping of hooves suddenly grew louder as two carriages pulled into view from behind the west wing of the Palace. They entered the courtyard through its enormous and elaborately crafted iron gates and proceeded around the wide road paved with pure-white stone.

The carriages stopped in front of Maeryn and her guards, and the drivers’ attendants climbed down from their seats to open the doors.

Dacien stepped out of the first carriage and turned to offer his hand to Aelia, who had Suline in her arms.

Maeryn quickly turned her gaze to the second carriage. Saba came out stretching his legs, and Kael was next. Maeryn realized that she had been holding her breath. She let it out and tried to resume a normal breathing pace even though her heart felt as though it would jump into her throat.

Adair stepped out. He was thin and pale, and there was something metallic on either side of his head, but when he looked in her direction, she knew it was definitely him. And Saba had been right; Adair looked barely older than the day he had disappeared, although that memory had lost its detail over the years. Adair had slowly become nothing more than an idea to her, but the instant their eyes met, the idea took on substance once more. Memories flashed through her mind in vivid detail, and tears spilled down her face. Minutes ago, she had been afraid of how she would react when this moment came. Would he seem like a stranger? Would their meeting feel awkward, unnatural? Would she find herself emotionless, unable to love like she had in the old days in Bastul? Was she even capable of that anymore?

Adair held her gaze with one of equal intensity. He took a step forward, then hesitated. The conviction in his eyes faltered.

Maeryn cautiously stepped away from the guards.

Adair’s shoulders raised and lowered with a deep breath, and then he began to walk in her direction.

Maeryn’s feet sprang into action, and she was running before she even realized what she was doing.

Adair came forward with his arms spread wide and tears in his eyes.

She fell into his arms like a child, vulnerable and with complete trust. Her body shook with sobs. She couldn’t stop it, nor did she want to.

He lifted her from the ground and spun her like he used to do, before setting her gently down again.

Maeryn opened her eyes and noticed that the guards had come forward a few steps, their weapons ready. Kael and Dacien were both holding up their hands to put the men at ease.

Adair slowly lessened the powerful grip of his hug and pulled back to arm’s length.

Maeryn reached up and laid her hands on either side of his face. “It’s really you.”

“I thought I would never see you again,” he whispered.

Maeryn’s fingers recoiled when they brushed the strange metal on his temples. She leaned her head to the side. “What is this?”

Adair’s forehead wrinkled, and he looked as though someone had stabbed him in the gut with the emotional equivalent of a dagger. “I’m sorry. I know I look different.”

“No!” Maeryn apologized. “It’s okay. You look exactly the same. I’m the one who’s changed.”

Adair’s face transitioned to a smile. He reached his hands up and gently moved the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes. “You’re more beautiful to me now than ever before. And look at you. You’re the Empress of the Orudan Empire?”

Maeryn bit her lip and smiled. She didn’t feel much like an empress at the moment. She was just a simple farm girl again, a girl who had discovered a young soldier hiding out in her parents’ barn.

“Would the Empress allow me the honor of kissing her royal lips?”

“Proceed with my blessing,” she replied, matching his joking tone and formal language.

He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers. The warmth of his skin seemed to transfer to hers and brought with it a tingling sensation that moved across her scalp and down her back. She opened her eyes and saw that Adair still had his closed.

“Welcome home,” she whispered.

He smiled and then finally opened his eyes.

Maeryn stared at him in silence, recognizing the contours of his face and memorizing every detail that was new, as if he might vanish at any moment. Slowly, their moment passed, and the world around them came back into existence. Maeryn realized that everyone was waiting quietly, watching them. She smiled awkwardly through her embarrassment and let her gaze come to rest on Aelia. “My darling.”

Aelia stepped forward quickly and hugged her mother while Dacien stayed where he was. Kael followed his sister’s example, and when Maeryn had him in an embrace, she whispered in his ear, “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Kael smiled and gave her a nod as they parted.

Maeryn turned to Saba next. “And thank you for helping bring my family back together. Is the portal sealed?”

“It is. We have much to discuss, but …” Saba reached up and scratched his head as if he had bad news. “What is important is that we’re all safe.”

Something had obviously happened at the portal, but Maeryn knew there would be time later to hear the report. For now, there were a few tasks that needed to be set in motion. She made eye contact with one of the guards.

“Yes, your Majesty?” the man replied immediately.

“Please check with the kitchen and let me know when our meal will be ready. We have reason to celebrate, and they assured me that they would prepare something special.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the man answered with a bow before leaving to retrieve the information.

Maeryn turned to another guard. “I would like the head envoy to meet me in the throne room in one hour.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the guard replied.

Saba turned to Maeryn with a questioning look.

“I need to send out dispatches to all the major cities and notify them that the threat has passed. They must disregard my last notice, or this city will have an influx of new residents without cause.”

“Ah,” Saba replied. “I had forgotten about that.”

Maeryn suddenly noticed that she was holding Adair’s hand. When her eyes came up, she realized that her husband was grinning from ear to ear. “What?”

He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s just … I have the pleasure of getting to know you all over again.”

She smiled again. “Have you ever seen the throne room?”

“No, but I’d love to,” Adair replied.

The sun had set. Through the open balcony doors, Kael could see the street lamps of the city flickering along the canal to the south. The night was calm. If there was any activity in Orud this evening, he couldn’t tell. From where he sat, the dining hall was the only place in the city alive with celebration. A small group of musicians were gathered in the corner, playing a joyous tune on their wind and stringed instruments. Servants came out of the kitchen at regular intervals to make their rounds and ensure that the guests’ wine goblets were always full and that the wide assortment of foods weren’t running low. A good-sized fire roared in the hearth, and another attendant was on hand to stoke the flames and open or close the doors to maintain a comfortable temperature in the room.

The main portion of the feast was over, and after hours of group conversation, Kael was content to sit back and watch his family as they broke up into smaller clusters for more intimate discussions. His stomach was full to the point of discomfort, and his head was swimming just a little from the wine. So he reclined in his chair and let the combination of ambient sounds lull him into a peaceful rest.

“Is that a smile I see on your face?” Saba said quietly, taking a seat next to him.

Kael looked away from the mesmerizing flames inside the hearth where his eyes had wandered. “I think I might be truly happy for the first time in my life. Well, since my father disappeared anyway.”

“Is that right?” Saba asked. “Then this really is a cause for celebration.”

Kael realized that he had spoken without fully considering his words. His feelings had just spilled out of him. It must have been the wine. “I’ve had fun at times. Shared some laughs. But ever since that day, I haven’t felt joy. The closest I came was when Suriku and I would go for a walk, and even then there was a …” He couldn’t think of the right word. “… darkness over me?”

Saba reached over and filled Kael’s goblet to the rim.

“No more!” Kael pleaded unsuccessfully.

Saba just sat back in his chair with a smile.

After a long moment of silence, Kael continued, feeling the urge to bare his soul for some unknown reason. “I just thought something was wrong with me. You know? From the monastery, perhaps? I used to lay awake and wonder if I was even capable of happiness. Some people are made for it and some people aren’t. But now I know the reasons I always felt alone, and they’re all over there, together for the first time.”

“It does my heart good to hear you say that,” Saba replied. “Since you were a little boy, this is all I wanted for you.”

Kael looked closely at his friend and noticed that his eyes were distant, as if he was thinking beyond the current situation.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for all of you.”

Kael knew Saba’s words weren’t limited to just the people in this room, but applied to the entire species of human beings. As Saba drained the last of his cup and sat back to watch the flames, Kael couldn’t help but wonder how many experiences his friend had lived through, experiences that couldn’t or wouldn’t ever be shared in the form of words.

Aelia’s fingers were interlaced with Dacien’s, and it took a few seconds for him to realize that she wasn’t just moving them, she was squeezing his hand.

“Huh?” he replied, turning his attention away from the musicians he had been staring at.

“I don’t want Suline to grow up without a father.”

Dacien frowned, wondering where that thought had come from. Then he noticed that she was looking across the room at her brother. “Her father’s not going anywhere.”

Aelia’s eyes turned toward Dacien, flickering with reflected light from the fire. “I was worried sick, but I kept telling myself that I was overreacting.”

Dacien put his arm around her and pulled her closer. “And then you learned you had good reason to worry. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re lucky to be alive after what happened at the outpost,” she said.

He just nodded, not knowing quite what to say.

“So many men died, and you were almost one of them. Mother doesn’t even know yet, does she?”

“No,” Dacien answered, looking out the doors to the balcony where Orud’s Empress was standing with her husband. “I haven’t wanted to interrupt them. She won’t take it well when she finds out.”

Aelia reached up to her shoulder and laid her hand on Dacien’s. “I don’t want you to be a soldier anymore.”

“I was born a soldier, my love.”

She squeezed his hand. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. But the portal is sealed. Orud’s enemies are no longer a threat. The Syvaku wouldn’t dare attack us again. The Korgan are just a shadow of what they once were, and besides, I’m only an advisor when it comes to the politics of the Eastern Territory. I don’t foresee any battles in our future. I think we should be able to follow through with your mother’s plans to establish a Western Territory. And I’m a general, so I would never be on the front lines anyway.”

“That wasn’t the case at the outpost,” she pointed out. “It just seems like there will always be something you’re fighting. You’ll always be in danger of some kind, and my worry will never go away.”

“It’s not the battle that soldiers desire, but the peace on the other side of it. We don’t fight for the sake of fighting, at least I don’t. I’m just willing to do what’s necessary to create an area of peace that we can live inside of.”

Aelia smiled. “I see why men are willing to follow you. Your words are inspiring. And I’m sure they were meant to comfort me, but they have just proven my point. You’re willing to do what’s necessary, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Dacien opened his mouth, but he suddenly found himself bested. Then it was his turn to smile. “You have your mother’s gift for politics. Perhaps you could be an advisor to the throne, and I could step down? Find something less dangerous to do? I could become your attendant. But only if I get to dress you every morning,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the neck. “And undress you at night …”

Aelia squirmed and giggled at the same time. “You won’t distract me with your passions.”

“I just did, my love,” he whispered in her ear.

A squeal of laughter momentarily drew Maeryn’s attention and brought a smile to her face. Inside the dining hall, Aelia and Dacien were sitting close together on a wide, stuffed chair. They looked happy together. Kael and Saba were still at the dining table, talking like they did when Kael was a boy, teacher and student together again.

“In Bastul, I used to imagine moments like this,” she admitted. “Having my whole family in one place. It was one of those things that I knew would never happen again, but I dreamt about it anyway.”

Adair leaned over the railing and looked out across the city. “It is nice to be wrong sometimes. Time and circumstance have changed us all, but here we are.”

Maeryn turned away from the dining room and leaned on the railing beside Adair. “How strange is this for you, to have our roles traded with one another?”

Adair laughed. “You are far more successful than I ever was, so it’s not an equal comparison.”

Maeryn smiled at the thought.

“But I have thought about it quite a bit since Kael found me. Of course, he didn’t know you were the Empress. But I’ve had a long time to picture you as a member of the High Council.”

“And?” Maeryn nudged.

“Ruling Bastul used to be important to me. Too important, in fact. I neglected you and Kael. And everything that happened because of that, all that we suffered, still hangs around my neck like a weight.” Adair’s voice cracked and he hung his head.

Maeryn reached out and placed her hand on his back. “It’s not your fault. I admit, I used to blame you in the early years, but the truth is that you couldn’t have known what would happen. And you didn’t cause it. It was Rameel’s fault. It was Magnus’ fault. It was something much larger than you or I.”

Adair’s head was resting now on his forearms as he hunched over the stone railing. Maeryn could hear his heavy breathing, and she knew he was crying. It lasted a few seconds, and then he sniffed before raising his head. “I don’t care about ruling anymore. And I like the fact that you’re the most powerful woman in the world. I didn’t see this side of you when we were together before, but I can already tell you’re better at it than I was. I would be happy to serve you in any capacity you find helpful, even if that is just to go on being your husband.”

It was a relief to hear those words. The truth was Maeryn enjoyed being empress, even with all its responsibilities. And though she wouldn’t admit it out loud to anyone, she knew she was rather good at it. Still, the change in Adair had been profound. The man she knew in Bastul was a natural-born leader and took his position quite seriously. Though her own character had been forged in a furnace of challenge over twenty-three years, it had only been two years for Adair. For such a drastic change, he must have endured unspeakable hardship.

“Sometime, you must tell me what they did to you.”

Adair pushed himself up from the railing and turned to face Maeryn. “I will. There is so much to tell, and you may not even believe all of it. But the truth is, most of it is horrible to think about, so I’d like to put it off for a time and enjoy … all of this,” he said, motioning with his hand.

“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Maeryn replied as another squeal of laughter drifted outside from the dining hall.

C HAPTER 24

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

The whiteboard in Marshall’s office was choked with lists and diagrams in every shade of dry-erase marker, a spectrum of modern-day hieroglyphs. Along the far left side was a column of brief statements that chronicled the Middle East crisis as it had developed over the past few months. Helmsley ignored the arrows extending from each statement, linking to other locations and symbols on the board, and simply let his eyes drift down the list. This brainstorming session had been going for several hours now, and he needed to take a mental step back and look at the issue from a broader perspective.

While the identity of the terrorist group was still unknown, Helmsley had recognized the leader immediately as one of the other two faces from his trip to Ontario. The message from Armaros’ manufactured human had enough of a Shia bent to provoke a strong reaction from Sunni extremist groups. Helmsley couldn’t help but wonder if the whole terrorist organization was made up, or if it was just their leader who had been planted. Whichever was the case, the oil field attacks had sparked the worst sectarian violence in years from militants on both sides, and it had been extremely effective at spreading through the moderates as well, igniting an all-out religious war. It didn’t take long for the violence to spill over into Israel, drawing swift reactions that predictably forced larger nations like the United States and Russia to begin picking sides. The whole progression seemed like a well-planned, flawlessly executed campaign, specifically timed for this moment in history—a moment that was ripe for another world war. But what was the endgame?

Marshall was standing at the right side of the board. She was using a red marker to write some observations inside one of three overlapping circles. Her Venn diagram was supposed to help visually define the relationships between the major players in this conflict. In this case, there was one well-populated circle for the terrorist leader, a second for the special ambassador, and an empty third circle for the last person in cryogenic storage in Canada, whose purpose was still unknown—his face had yet to show up on the world stage.

“What was Armaros driving toward?” Helmsley asked out loud from his chair in front of Marshall’s desk.

Marshall finished writing peace negotiations in one of the circles before turning around. “Do you have another idea?”

Helmsley crossed his arms. “Just picking up a thread from before. We already know Armaros was playing both sides of this. The reason to do that is to control all of the influences on a situation to steer it the way you want it to go. So what was Armaros driving toward?”

Marshall replaced the cap on the marker and stepped back from the board.

“There’s a progression here,” Helmsley continued, pointing to the list on the left side. “First, we have the witch hunt for a global terrorist organization. Then, we have Armaros retracting his orders. The UN Security Council debates. Then the General Assembly.”

“Okay …?” Marshall said, glancing back and forth between Helmsley and the board.

Helmsley stood up from his chair. “All of it sets the foundation for the ambassador to take his UN-backed message of secular humanism to the Middle East, which provokes a violent religious response from the terrorist leader. A humanist statement. A religious response. Now the ambassador is referring to the conflict as The Religious Wars, and the label is being picked up and repeated by the press. It’s a back-and-forth progression, but it’s all too elaborate to be accidental. Both sides of this conflict have been in place for some time, and Armaros only set them in motion recently. So what was he trying to accomplish? What was his endgame?”

Marshall set the marker down on her desk and looked back at the board. “When you put it that way, I suppose we don’t need to be as concerned about the possibility of a nuclear holocaust. Armaros thought of this world as his own, so his endgame wouldn’t have been to destroy it. It’s possible that the events he set in motion are simply spinning out of control without him at the helm. But now that you point it out, this conflict certainly looks to be following a designed progression.”

Helmsley nodded. “If the goal was to ruin the world economy, to motivate acceptance of new leadership, then it failed … at least in industrialized nations. Granted, things are pretty bad in developing countries. Everyone took a hit, but the economy is stabilizing and it will eventually recover. And all the major players are the same ones who were in power before the attacks. So that wasn’t it. If the goal was total religious control over the world, then why would Armaros have introduced the ambassador into the equation? And the logic of the converse doesn’t play out either.”

“Right. And Armaros already controlled the world anyway,” Marshall replied. “So his endgame had to have been something beyond control.”

Helmsley folded his arms again and stepped closer to the board. “It’s almost like he was priming the world for something that isn’t on the table yet. I wonder if it’s connected to what he was doing in Aksai Chin. The SAT footage confirmed that the weapons system came in pieces from the portal in Brazil. I’m thinking this must be tied to what the other Myndarym are doing in the next world.”

Marshall nodded, but the expression on her face communicated skepticism. “Could be, but I don’t see a direct connection.”

Helmsley continued staring at the whiteboard in silence for a few more seconds before admitting to himself that it was another dead end, at least for now. “Oh well. Let’s keep going with what you were working on before.”

Marshall grabbed the red marker from her desk and turned back to the board.

BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA

The steady drizzle fell on the thin aluminum roof over Sean’s head, creating a metallic cacophony, but the sound wasn’t enough to muffle the gunfire on the shooting range. Greer’s oldest son was standing just inside the rustic, open-sided structure, pointing his dad’s forty-caliber pistol at one of the glass bottles sitting atop a pile of old wooden pallets ten meters away. Joshua pulled the trigger, and the pistol jerked backward from the recoil just as the wood beneath the bottle splintered. The bottle he had been aiming at teetered for a second before falling off the stack untouched. Joshua looked back over his shoulder.

“You’re anticipating the kick,” Sean told him, loud enough to be heard through their ear protection. “When you tense up beforehand, it pulls your shot down.”

Joshua nodded and looked downrange again. His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

The gun kicked again, but this time, a bottle exploded.

“Nice shot!”

Joshua glanced back again, now with a huge smile on his face.

“That was your last one,” Sean said, pointing.

Joshua glanced at the gun in his hands and looked surprised that the slide was locked in the open position. He quickly released the spent magazine and laid it on the picnic table, before releasing the slide and setting the gun down next to an assortment of other pistols and assault rifles. “It goes so fast,” he said as he pulled his ear muffs off his head.

“Yeah. It’s easy to lose count. But you did really well,” Sean said, setting his own ear protection on the table. “Your first couple shots were more accurate because you weren’t thinking about the recoil. Then you started tensing up. It’s almost better to let it surprise you.”

Joshua nodded.

Hearing a closing door, Sean turned and looked out from the covered shooting area in the opposite direction. A worn path led a short distance through the grass to a ramshackle building of rusted corrugated metal sheets and weathered timbers. Greer had just exited the building and was coming through the rain with something in his hands. “How did he do?” he yelled.

Sean waited for him to get closer before replying. “He hit three this time.”

Greer sidestepped a support beam and came beneath the structure where the ground was dry. “Three? Nice job,” he replied, setting down a couple bundles of aluminum foil on the table before reaching out to bump knuckles with Joshua. He put his arm over the boy’s shoulder, and the two of them walked closer to the range side of the structure as Joshua began pointing out the bottles he’d hit.

Sean let them have a moment while he looked out at the surrounding terrain. They had come down to the south end of the city where the people were poorer and the environment was more rural. The roads had been nearly empty on the way, with gas prices as high as they were. Rolling hills stretched in every direction, lush with bright green vegetation from the frequent rains. The air was warm and humid beneath the shelter, and Sean’s clothes were clinging to his skin with a layer of perspiration. It wasn’t all that different from how Boston would have been this time of year, maybe even a little cooler.

He’d been with Greer’s family now for a couple months, and despite his initial reservations, he was actually fitting in. They had all welcomed him with open arms, and Sean had tried to do what he could to keep from being a burden. Trina never even hinted that he was, though the thought had to have crossed her mind at some point. He helped with dishes and cleaning whenever possible, and had discovered that he honestly enjoyed hanging out with Joshua and Maddie. He had always thought of himself as a loner, but there was something intriguing about their innocence that drew him in and made him wonder about the possibility of having his own family someday. Not anytime soon, he was quick to assure himself, thinking about how much work the twins were. But someday …

Greer and Joshua’s conversation had come to a stop and they were both turning back toward the picnic table.

“Are there any ranges closer to your house?” Sean asked.

“Yeah, there’s an indoor one, but …” Greer looked out at the rural terrain. “I like it better out here. I don’t have to worry about explaining myself to police officers. Plus, Andreas is a friend of mine, and he makes really good food.” Greer reached out and began peeling open one of the foil bundles on the table. Inside were dozens of small half-moon shapes that looked like they’d been fried.

“What are those?”

“Empanadas. They’re a little different from the ones in the States; they use cornmeal down here. And Andreas uses a meat and potato stuffing. Go ahead, this is our lunch,” Greer said, as he proceeded to tear open the other bundle.

Sean let Joshua go first and then grabbed one for himself. They were almost too hot to hold. He took a careful bite, inhaling small hisses of air to keep from burning his tongue.

“See what I mean?” Greer said.

Sean nodded, glancing at the next bundle of what looked like grilled corn on the cob.

“This is his other specialty. He does it over an open flame so it gets that char. And then he brushes it with butter and sprinkles grated cheese over it.”

“Cheese on corn?” Sean asked.

“Trust me, man. It’s really good.”

Joshua was smiling as he reached out and pulled an ear of corn from of its steaming enclosure. “I didn’t like it when I was younger, but it’s good now.”

Sean shrugged. “Alright. If you like it, I’ll give it a try.”

Greer sat down and reached for an empanada. “After we’re done, I thought we might have ourselves a friendly competition. Three clips each. Twenty-five, fifteen, and ten meters. We’ll see who can hit the most bottles.”

Sean raised his eyebrows and looked over at Joshua.

Joshua was grinning as he finished chewing a bite of corn. “Okay, but you guys have to shoot left-handed.”

Sean laughed. “Sound’s fair to me.”

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES

Martinez set the wad of wet beach towels next to the folding chairs and closed the trunk of the small SUV. Yvette was leaning over by the rear passenger door, brushing the sand off of Eva’s feet as they dangled out of the vehicle.

“Mommy, I’m thirsty.”

“I know, sweetie. We’re going home now to eat lunch.”

Martinez just smiled as he stood there in the parking lot listening to his two favorite people in the whole world. Their quiet voices were just audible over the breaking surf in the distance. The sky was clear, and the wind had kept to a gentle breeze all morning. The sun felt great on his skin, and he soaked it up just like he’d been doing with all these precious moments with his family. They were peaceful times that he would hold on to, jealously guarding them for some unknown point in the future when they might become the only things to keep him going.

Yvette stood up and grabbed the door. “Watch your toes.” She waited a moment for Eva to pull her feet in before shutting the door and turning to meet Martinez’s gaze. “I think she had fun.”

Martinez smiled. “Me too.”

Yvette frowned slightly. “I just thought we should stay close to home with everything going on. Are you sure it wasn’t too difficult for you?”

Martinez glanced to the north. The Naval Amphibious Base was only a couple miles away and they’d literally spent the morning playing in the very same waters where he’d undergone some of the most brutal training of his career. “No, it was good. I mean, I hated this beach during BUD/S, but …”

Yvette’s frown turned into a relieved smile. “You want me to drive?”

“No, I got it,” Martinez replied with a grin. He stepped away from the trunk and walked barefoot along the hot pavement toward the open driver’s side door. When he settled into the seat, he shut the door and started the vehicle. The air conditioner was already on high, blasting out a stream of air that wasn’t yet cold. Yvette buckled her seatbelt and then reached up to turn on the radio.

“So I was thinking about this afternoon,” Martinez said as he turned to check his mirrors and back out of the parking space. “We should play that game—”

“Oh, hang on,” Yvette said, suddenly turning up the volume.

“—through a repartitioning of the borders between Israel and Palestine. The basis of the peace accord is essentially a confirmation of the 1949 Armistice Agreements between Israel and its neighboring countries of Egypt, Lebanon, Jordan, and Syria. The treaty signed this morning will broaden the lines of demarcation to include Iraq, Iran, and Saudi Arabia, bringing much-needed stability to whole region. It is not clear yet whether Sir Edwyn Pierce will remain in the area for—”

“Wow. He actually got them to sign it,” Yvette said, still looking out the windshield. She turned down the volume and sat back in her seat, placing a hand on her chest.

Martinez reached over and touched her leg. “Are you okay?”

Yvette’s head was back against the headrest and her eyes were closed. When she finally opened them and turned to face Martinez, her eyes were glossy. “Things were so bad, I was starting to think this might be our last time to …”

Martinez stared at his wife for a moment, amazed by her capacity to be so deeply troubled by something and not have it ruin their time together. He’d had no idea she was still thinking about what was happening on the other side of the world. “I told you I wouldn’t have to get involved in that stuff. It’s somebody else’s fight.”

“I know,” she admitted.

“You didn’t believe me?”

Yvette shook her head. “We just got you back.”

“Daddy, do you have to leave again?” Eva asked from the back seat.

Martinez turned and looked at his daughter. “No, sweetie.” Then he looked back at Yvette and patted her leg. “Not for a while.”

C HAPTER 25

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

Helmsley was on the roof of Null’s last remaining division headquarters with a dozen other people. It was common knowledge that you weren’t supposed to look directly at the sun, but when an unpredicted solar eclipse took the world by surprise, it was easy to ignore common knowledge. It was also a convenient distraction from the events in the Middle East that he had been monitoring so closely. The peace agreement brokered by the UN’s special ambassador was a strange turn of events. Helmsley had thought that the conflict was heading toward something, and now it was stalled. Even though he was relieved by the cessation of violence, he was intensely curious about how this fit into Armaros’ plans and was mentally fatigued by the effort of trying to construct a theory to explain it all.

The brilliant crescent of yellow light from the sun gradually diminished until there was only a black disk in the sky with a faint halo of orange and purple around it. The noontime sky had progressively darkened, leaving Moscow cloaked in dusk. Helmsley was amazed at what he was seeing and was just beginning to think of himself as fortunate to witness the event when EOD began to move under his feet.

One of the female analysts let out a scream as she realized the building was shaking.

“Earthquake! Get away from the antennae array!” Helmsley yelled to the group as he headed for an open area between their communications equipment and the exterior wall of the building. Suddenly, he realized that he had exhausted his resources of useful information. He knew what to do in an earthquake if you were inside a building, but he’d never learned what to do if you were on top of one. In the absence of helpful advice, he just dropped to the roof and waited it out.

When the sickening swaying motion passed, Helmsley climbed to his feet. “Don’t rush in,” he called to a few of the personnel who were already running for the door to the stairwell. “We need to go in together for safety.”

The two men and one woman who had tried to break from the group nodded at him.

Helmsley made his way across the roof and opened the door, keeping the rest of his personnel behind him. The fluorescent lights in the stairwell were flickering, but there didn’t appear to be any immediate damage. His SAT phone rang, and he quickly pulled it from his pocket.

“Are you okay?” Marshall asked.

“Yeah. No one was hurt. We’re coming down the eastern stairwell now. Are you alright?”

“Yes, thankfully. Our security team is going to do a head count to make sure everyone in the building is safe.”

“Good. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said, hanging up.

It took roughly ten minutes to descend through multiple floors of the building and escort the members of the group to their respective offices. Other than a few startled employees and some artwork that had fallen off the wall, Helmsley found EOD to be fully intact.

As expected, the command room was humming with activity by the time he returned. The majority of the personnel were walking briskly from one work station to the next, carrying binders of printed materials. The screens on the wall were blank, and it appeared that Marshall already had the teams utilizing their backup procedures for times of power outage.

“We’ve lost contact with the Central COMM Relay Station and two of our satellites over the UK,” Marshall said, stepping away from the satellite team as Helmsley approached.

“Everything else is intact?” Helmsley asked.

“So far, it looks that way. We’re trying to get confirmation from some of our agents in the field, but the mobile networks are jammed with emergency calls.”

Helmsley crossed his arms and glanced up at the dark screens on the wall again. “I guess this wasn’t just a local quake.”

“And it happened at the same time as a solar eclipse,” Marshall added. “That’s a peculiar coincidence.”

Helmsley exhaled a long breath and let his gaze sweep around the energetic command room. The two events had to be related somehow, but it was useless to speculate how at this point. There were clearly other practical issues that had to be dealt with first. “How can I help?”

“Ruslan was working with the COMMs group to reroute our hardline transmissions through the western station, but the TECH group pulled him away for an issue with our servers.”

“Alright. I’ll go fill in for him. Let me know as soon as you get confirmation on the SAT network.”

THE ROYAL PALACE

ORUD

The hours of peaceful life turned into days, and the days into weeks. Spring rains and warming weather brought the land back from its winter slumber. The farm lands around the outskirts of Orud burst into life as crops began to grow and workers went to the fields to tend to their investments. Kael had taken up riding again, exploring the vineyards to the north and the plantations in the south, as well as the myriad of subcultures within the city limits. The market district was always a fascinating example of human diversity, and the docks of the east and west bays provided him with hours of entertainment. He shared meals with sailors in taverns and met with soldiers in their homes. He helped blacksmiths cart their raw materials across the city and ran errands for the Palace. And woven through it all were plenty of memorable times with his family, sometimes as a group but more often with each of them individually. It was a restorative period in his life, not unlike the months after the conflict with Rameel and his followers. But even then, he had been wounded in his soul. There had been a sense of relief, but he wouldn’t have described it as happiness.

This is happiness, he thought. It was a long series of moments that he would cherish forever. His family had been restored as well as could be expected. Mother and Father seemed to be getting along like two young lovebirds, in spite of everything that had tried to rip them apart. That was the greatest portion of Kael’s joy. Dacien and Aelia were enjoying being parents and Kael was truly happy for them, even though he missed the times he and Dacien had spent together and the closeness that had been developing before he met Aelia. He put those memories aside into a different part of his mind, a place that old men might call the good old days, and he left it at that. Saba was up to his usual antics—instigating parties and playing practical jokes on people. He was an intriguing person with many sides to his personality. When playing advisor to Maeryn, he was composed, eloquent, and serious. Outside of his official duties, he was like a mischievous little boy who wanted nothing more than to make people laugh. And there was another side of him that Kael had yet to see. Dacien had described it for him in startling detail. Saba was a warrior. Not just a soldier, but someone who understands battle at a deep level, who expertly utilizes its tools like an artist and dances inside of it as if it were a form of art. Kael understood Dacien’s meaning because it described him as well. And yet, he had never looked at his old friend in that way or seen him display it. Saba, with all his facets, was still such a mystery.

Now that the weeks had turned into months, Kael wondered if perhaps this time of his life was made all the sweeter because it was temporary. There was still work to do. There was another world waiting for him with the last four of the rebellious Myndarym—the Wandering Stars. What would that third world be like? If the scout at the Temple was any indication, it would be a world filled with mechanical life forms. Reaching back into Matthews’ memories, which Kokabiel had stolen, Kael saw the spaceships and aliens of so many science fiction films. Is that what the last world would be like? Did people still live on earth, or had they moved on to colonize other planets? Perhaps things had gone in the other direction. Perhaps the technology of the Myndarym had created a vast chasm between them and their human subjects. It might turn out that humans were little more than primitive creatures living in holes in the ground. Who knew what awaited him in that world? There were a million possibilities. But the time was nearing that he would have to go and speak with Saba. He would bring a bottle of wine and sit his old friend down to learn everything he knew about the last four Myndarym. Personality traits. Which physical forms they had taken. What limitations or advantages those forms would offer them. What their rulership had looked like in the ancient days. Anything that would help round out the knowledge Kael had gleaned from Kokabiel’s memories so that he could prepare his campaign of war. But regardless of what he would find out, one fact had continually risen to the surface of his thoughts.

This conflict was beyond any of his friends.

He’d suspected it before he came up with a plan to reach Armaros. It had become a fact during the long months of preparation and secrecy. It was reinforced during the battle in Aksai Chin. And the moment he stepped foot in his own world again he saw it proclaimed throughout the Temple by the remains of so many faithful Orudan soldiers. Where Kael was going was a place of death. He had little hope of surviving what lay ahead of him, and he was fine with that prospect. He had achieved his goal of putting his family back together again. The driving force behind his actions had finally been pacified. But somewhere along the way, he had inadvertently accepted the destiny that Saba had revealed to him. There was work to do, and he was the one to accomplish it.

But the path that he needed to walk would only destroy more lives if he took others with him. Greer, Thompson, and Martinez had graciously offered to help him in his task. And though they were all highly skilled soldiers, they wouldn’t survive. He was sure of it. After living through the consequences of his own father disappearing, how could he allow the same thing to happen to their families? As much as Kael appreciated the gesture and desired their company, he knew that he would have to make the final charge of this ancient war alone.

He would step into that portal and have Saba seal it up behind him. And instead of going to Brazil, he would go straight to the final world and do whatever needed to be done. That was the path laid out before him. The question was … when?

Kael inhaled a deep breath of the summer air and continued his meditative walk across the grass of the Palace grounds. The only sound was the swish of each footstep and the buzzing of some insects in the distance. The sky was dark, as it was still several hours before sunrise, but the stars were bright. Far more intense than anything he had seen in Greer’s world, with all of its artificial lights competing for attention. He could see well enough to stroll across the grounds confidently, able to pick out each tree and shrub. And now that he was paying attention, he noticed that everything seemed to have a red hue. He glanced across the lawn and also noticed that the trees had long shadows beside them. On instinct, he turned his head in the opposite direction.

Low on the eastern horizon, a full moon was hanging in the sky. It looked larger than normal, but its color was what seemed alarming. It was a deep red tone, and it cast its eerie light across the land as though everything were covered in blood.

Kael stopped walking and just stared at it, unable to make sense of it. From Kokabiel’s memories, he understood the phases of the moon and the visual abnormalities that were possible during the convergence of various astronomical events. But this didn’t line up with any of those scenarios. As he watched, the ground beneath his feet began to shudder. The trees shook, and the movement was most noticeable in their trembling leaves. The shudder grew to a rumble, and Kael cast his sense outward to feel for the ground and fight against the dizzying movement. Ripples seemed to move through the soil as if it were made of water, and suddenly, the rumble lurched into a series of violent jolts that knocked Kael off his feet. He reached out and grabbed handfuls of grass, holding on to the earth as though he might fall off it and float out into space. Where there had once been a solid surface under him, there was now only a shifting plane that couldn’t be trusted. A horrendous crash sounded behind him, and Kael turned his head to see part of the Palace’s outer wall collapsing to the ground. He closed his eyes and cast his sense outward, feeling for the presence of other people, desperately hoping that no one was near the wall when it fell. And then, the violent quaking subsided to a mild rumble. Kael pushed himself up to standing and could feel the quivering of the earth under his feet, as though it were crying after a traumatic event. Like walking across the unsteady deck of a ship at sea, Kael began moving over the ground, stumbling toward the collapsed Palace wall.

C HAPTER 26

NULL, EASTERN OPERATIONS DIVISION

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

The screens on the wall of the command room flickered to life, and applause broke out among the personnel.

“Okay. Give me standby configuration bravo, with world news in column three,” Helmsley ordered. He was anxious to know where the quake had originated and how widespread the damage was. As the data began appearing at expected locations around the room, the vertical assortment of smaller screens to Helmsley’s right began displaying international news channels. All of the reporters were standing outside as they spoke to the cameras, but the headlines scrolling across the screens weren’t what he expected. Moscow. Hong Kong. Los Angeles. New York. London. They were all reporting local quakes. Whatever had happened wasn’t a single event but multiple events spread out across the globe.

“Jim!” Marshall called from across the room. “You need to see this.” She was standing with Ruslan behind a team of analysts, a concerned expression on her face.

Helmsley passed quickly through aisles of workstations and personnel and stopped beside her. “What’s going on?”

“When we brought up the contour map of the earth to identify the location of the quake, this is what we found,” she said, pointing at one of the computers.

Helmsley squinted at the screen and saw a patchwork of colors. The surface contours of several continents were carved out in shades of green, helping him orient his thinking, but there were large chunks of black outlined in red. “What am I looking at?”

“Sir, some of the surface data is now returning as invalid,” one of the analysts answered.

“What do you mean, invalid?”

The analyst stopped pecking keys and turned around in his chair. “The elevation data is no longer accurate.”

Helmsley frowned. “Can you remap it?”

“That’s what we’re doing now,” Marshall said.

“It’s a progressive scan,” the analyst added. “We already have the low-resolution data. We’re just waiting for the hi-res.”

“Can you put it up on the big screen, please?”

“Yes, sir,”

A second later, the terrain model appeared on the wall, finally large enough for Helmsley to view it properly. The green areas were smooth and solid, showing mountains and valleys. Shades of blue defined everything below sea level. The black areas outlined in red encompassed both dry land and ocean terrain. They looked blocky by comparison, like a child had built them out of Legos. Helmsley checked his watch and noted that the data refreshed once every ten seconds. It was excruciating to wait, but each time the data refreshed, what looked like pixelated gatherings of skyscrapers and sinkholes thinned out and grew smooth. Over the course of several minutes, it became obvious that something was very wrong.

“All of this topography has been changed,” another analyst observed.

Helmsley looked again at the news screens and noted that the reporter in Paris was standing in front of a desolate landscape. Bare soil stretched all the way to the horizon, like footage from the Curiosity rover on Mars.

“Earthquakes have an origin point,” the second analyst continued. “Sometimes you’ll see more than one along a fault line, but they don’t rearrange the earth’s topography on this scale. And they don’t do it all over the world at the same time.”

Marshall turned to Helmsley. “If earthquakes did all this, the shock waves would have been much more intense. We’d all be dead right now.”

Helmsley just nodded, not knowing what to say. He was usually quick on his feet and able to see through chaotic data to make split-second decisions, but there was no framework for him to fit this data into. It felt as though his mind wasn’t fully awake, like someone had replaced his coffee with decaf as a practical joke.

They all stared at the screen for over a minute before Marshall spoke again. “Taras, can you bring up South America?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. He grabbed his mouse and the earth model on the large screen rotated. The western coast of the continent allowed Helmsley to orient what he was seeing, but much of the rest had been altered.

“Can you zoom in on the border between Brazil and Venezuela?” she asked.

Taras clicked his mouse a few times and the model expanded to fill the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but that whole area has changed.”

“Are you looking for the portal?” Helmsley asked.

Marshal nodded.

“Try coordinates,” he suggested. “We have its latitude and longitude.”

“Yes, sir, we do,” the analyst replied, typing even as he spoke.

A few seconds later, the model expanded further and they were all staring at a blocky green model of a structure that was orders of magnitude larger than Armaros’ old compound. There were no surrounding mountains, only flat terrain, pockmarked with huge craters. The model continued to gain clarity as the elevation data refreshed with each successive scan. From the top-down perspective, the building almost looked like a biohazard symbol, with multiple rings of long curving walls that ended in sharp points but connected in the middle. One of the building’s three wings was badly damaged, and there was a denser concentration of craters around it, as though it had survived an air raid attack. Helmsley glanced up again at the desolate terrain showing on the news station in Paris. Both images had an otherworldly feel to them.

Helmsley crossed his arms and looked at Marshall. He could feel the cobwebs slowly starting to clear from his mind. Changed topography, or foreign topography? If he wasn’t looking at Armaros’ Brazilian fortress, what was he looking at? Kael had said that the portal was the common denominator between their two worlds. But this didn’t look like the Temple that he had described.

Marshall turned suddenly and locked eyes with Helmsley. “Kael was going to Orud, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember how far away that was from the portal?”

“Uh. In a straight line, it should be just under five hundred miles north-northeast,” Helmsley answered.

“Taras, plot that line with the portal as the origin point,” Marshall instructed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They waited while the analyst executed the instructions before a white line appeared on the screen.

“Show us what’s at the other end of that line,” she added.

Taras grabbed his mouse and rotated the model down and to the left until they were looking at where the northeastern cities of Venezuela should have been. Instead, there was a narrow strip of land running north to south with large ocean bays on both sides. The contour data showed a sprawling arrangement of structures that was roughly circular in shape and took up the width of the isthmus.

A flicker of recognition passed through Helmsley’s mind, but it was too dim to fully grasp. “Can we get a live feed of that location?” he asked.

Taras grabbed the phone next to his monitor and punched a button. A ring sounded across the room before another analyst answered it. Taras conversed with his colleague in Russian for a moment, before hanging up the phone. “He’s going to put it on the screen.”

Everyone looked up and waited. Seconds ticked by, and Helmsley was just about to check his watch again when the terrain model was suddenly replaced by a live satellite feed. There were a few clouds obscuring the landmass, but otherwise it looked just like the model. A vast foreign city dominated the landscape between each bay, with walls that cut across its northern and southern borders from coast to coast.

“Zoom in, please,” Marshall instructed.

The image expanded.

“Again.”

The image expanded even more.

Suddenly, it was plain to Helmsley that he wasn’t looking at a modern city. The extensive wooden docks and the shadows cast by the sails of large ships made it obvious. The dim flicker of recognition suddenly flared in his mind, bursting into a full-blown realization.

“That’s Orud!” Marshall exclaimed. She had one hand over her mouth as she stumbled backward and came to rest against the workstation behind her. Her eyes were still focused intently at the screen.

Helmsley was looking at her, but hadn’t moved a muscle to keep her from falling. His brain was fully occupied now. The first realization had been like a key that unlocked his tactical mind, leading to one conclusion after another. Instead of getting sidetracked with the impossibility of Orud’s existence in this world, he accepted it and moved on to the next consideration as he would have during an assault operation. It wasn’t just Kael’s world that was now accessible, but the third one as well.

“The worlds have merged!” Marshall said, voicing what Helmsley didn’t have time to say.

The command room had grown unnervingly silent. All the personnel were now either staring at the large screen on the wall or looking in the direction of Null’s leaders. Helmsley looked down at the analyst seated in front of him. “Taras, I need you to verify a couple locations for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bogotá, Colombia.”

The analyst began entering commands into the system and the satellite feed disappeared, replaced by the surface contour map. “It’s right on the edge of a changed zone, but it’s still there, sir.”

“Good. What about San Diego, California?”

The screen updated again. “Yes, sir.”

“And Great Falls, Montana?”

“Still intact, sir.”

Helmsley turned to EOD’s deputy director. “Ruslan, how fast can we get TAC One to Orud from each of their locations?”

Ruslan’s eyes were fixed on the large screen, and he didn’t respond.

“Ruslan!” Helmsley repeated.

“Sorry, sir,” he replied, shaking his head before meeting Helmsley’s gaze. “Bogotá will be difficult; it’s the closest but also the most affected. The marine base in San Diego will probably be congested, but I’ll put something in place. I think Montana will be the quickest route. I should be able to arrange air transport from there right away, sir.”

“Okay. Set it up, and I’ll call the team members, starting with Thompson.”

“Yes, sir,” Ruslan replied, leaving to make the arrangements.

“You’re trying to make contact with Kael?” Marshall asked.

“I think it’s our first priority,” he answered. “If we’re really sharing the same space as four more of those creatures, then we’ve all just been dumped into enemy territory. The safest place to be right now is wherever Kael is.”

Helmsley looked back to the array of screens on the wall where the terrain model and satellite feeds had been reduced to their normal size. Dozens of the other screens were now showing news footage from around the world. Buildings had collapsed. Riots were breaking out. Aerial helicopter footage was showing a mountainside with buildings sprouting from its surface. The boundary between mountainscape and cityscape was clearly visible, as if the two environments had suddenly decided to occupy the same space. The world was in complete chaos.

“We can bring Null out of hiding now,” Marshall said after a long pause.

Helmsley turned to his colleague, realizing how brilliant an idea it was. “You’re right. The world’s already been turned upside down. They wouldn’t even notice.”

“Orud’s also going to be vulnerable if the Myndarym come after Kael. We could help him with this type of information,” she added, motioning to the screen. “Is it possible to move our TAC and SEC teams down there and set up a mobile command station?”

Helmsley reached up to massage the back of his neck as he thought through the logistics. After a moment, he realized that it was the perfect solution for the Null resources in both the western and central divisions that had been inactive since Armaros’ witch-hunt, whatever was left of them anyway. “We can do more than that. Other than maintaining a skeleton crew at a few locations, we could send them everything else we have. Weapons. Personnel. Everything.”

Marshall nodded and put her hands together in front of her mouth. “This is unbelievable.” The words came out as a whisper. After a few seconds of silence, she made eye contact with Helmsley again and seemed to come back to the present. “Is there any downside to moving our resources there? Anything we’re missing?”

Helmsley considered the question carefully, knowing full well that there were many things they were missing. None of this fell within the realm of anyone’s normal understanding, but one thought seemed clearer in his mind than any other. “There’s a good chance that we might end up needing Kael’s protection. So it might be to our benefit, if nothing else.”

“True,” Marshall admitted. “Alright, I suppose we should move ahead. I’ll start working through the reactivation protocols.”

“And I’ll call Thompson and brief him on the plan before getting the other guys moving,” Helmsley replied.

C HAPTER 27

GREAT FALLS, MONTANA, UNITED STATES

“Alright, Pops. You’re good to go,” Thompson said, coming through the screen door onto the porch.

His grandfather was sitting in a wooden rocking chair with a blanket over his legs. “Never saw one of those before,” the old man wheezed, looking up at the section of sky that was visible from beneath the overhang of the porch roof.

“Whoa,” Thompson exclaimed, as he looked up to see meteors streaking across the sky. He had caught a few annual displays over the years, but they were nothing compared to this one. He watched in silence for a long moment before turning back to his grandfather and handing him a camouflaged, thirty aught six bolt-action rifle with a scope. “I pulled the rest of the guns and ammo inside the house, and the fridge and pantry are mostly stocked,” Thompson said. “I called Susan and told her to go be with her family, so she won’t be coming over anymore. You’re on your own.”

His grandfather smiled behind his oxygen mask. “Like a young bachelor again.”

Thompson laughed. The old man always did have a good sense of humor. “Now, things are going to get real weird around here. The food shelves at the corner station were almost bare, and as soon as people realize you have a couple drums of gas in the barn, they’re going to come for it. Just put a few rounds in the dirt in front of them and it’ll hold them at bay for a while. Hopefully word will spread that this isn’t the ranch to screw with.”

His grandfather nodded and leaned the rifle against the porch’s railing.

“I’ve got a spotter scope on a tripod by the upstairs window. You should be able to see them coming.” Thompson paused. “I’m sorry that I have to go.”

“Don’t be,” his grandfather said. “You’ve done right by me, Eric. You’re an honorable man, and you’re just doing what you have to do. Hell, I’m kind of excited about this. I’d much rather go down with a gun in my hand than waiting for this damned cancer to eat me alive.”

Thompson couldn’t help but laugh, and Pops followed suit until it turned into a coughing fit. Thompson walked over and stood behind him, resting his hands on the old man’s shoulders until it passed.

When Pops gained control of himself, he looked up. “Where are they picking you up?”

“Malmstrom. There should be a jet waiting for me, and then I’ll transfer to a chopper down in South America.”

“Well, you’d better haul ass then.”

Thompson smiled and looked down, patting the old man’s shoulders. “Love you, Pops.”

“I love you too, boy. Go get ‘em.”

Thompson hesitated for a moment, then walked across the porch to the driveway and hopped into his truck. He started it up and revved the engine, waving to the old man one last time before peeling out in the gravel and racing down the long driveway.

BOGOTÁ, COLOMBIA

Greer stepped into the garage and walked around to the back of the Suburban, setting down another load of supplies. The twins were screaming in the backseat, and Trina was doing her best to console them. It was three in the morning and Greer knew exactly how they felt. “Honey, put this on,” he said, handing her an old Kevlar vest, the only one he had in the house. He desperately wished now that he had been as prepared at home as he was at work, but he’d never had any reason to think of his home as a war zone. And now, the time for preparation was over; it seemed like the end of the world had arrived.

Trina took the vest with a confused look on her face.

“I don’t know what we’re going to run into, it’s just a precaution,” he said.

Trina turned around in her seat and handed the vest to Madison. “Here, put this on.”

Sean came around the back of the vehicle and tossed a duffle bag onto the pile. Then he pulled a forty-caliber semi-auto pistol from the holster on his hip and nodded toward the truck.

Greer glanced at the weapon. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

Sean walked around to the open side door. “Joshua. Here, take this. There’s nothing in the chamber, and the safety is on. Keep it pointed at the floorboard until we tell you differently.”

Joshua nodded, accepting the handgun carefully.

Sean put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “You probably won’t need to use it. But if anything happens, just stay calm and do exactly what you practiced at the range. Okay?”

Joshua nodded.

“Is that the last of it?” Greer asked, repositioning the duffle bag like a real-world game of Tetris.

“There’s still the ice chest on the counter,” Sean answered. “I’ll go grab it.”

Greer inspected the trunk to see where he would put the small cooler.

“Devon,” Trina said over the sound of the twins’ cries. “How do we know where to go?”

“Helmsley sent terrain maps to my SAT phone. It’ll be fine. We’ll be on paved roads most of the way.”

“Most of the way? What are we supposed to do after that?” she asked.

Greer smiled. “Whatever we need to. Don’t worry. That’s my job.”

Trina frowned just as Sean closed the door to the house and came around the back of the vehicle. “Here you go,” he said, handing over the cooler.

Greer accepted it and shoved it into the last bit of unused space that wasn’t really big enough. Then he closed the hatch and turned to Sean. “I’m glad you’re here.” The words didn’t quite convey the depth of Greer’s thankfulness to have another soldier protecting his family.

But Sean seemed to understand it anyway. “You guys are like family to me.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Greer said, “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Sean headed for the driver’s seat while Greer walked around to the front passenger door. He pulled up the first of the terrain maps and put his SAT phone in the console holder where Sean would be able to see it. Then he climbed into the seat and shut the door. “Helmsley said the roads would be intact until just before El Tigre, so just take it at a steady pace and try not to attract attention.”

Sean nodded and started up the engine.

Greer reached up and tapped the button on the garage door opener. When Sean pulled out, Greer looked up at the sky. Meteors were shooting across the darkness in long streaks of burning debris, like a firefight with tracers. And there was a strange tone to the night sky. As Sean drove through the neighborhood toward its gated entrance, a red moon slid into view from behind a tree.

“Cool,” Maddie said, leaning over in her seat to look up at the rare celestial event.

Greer reached down to the floorboard and picked up one of the assault rifles that had been locked in his closet. He hoped none of them would need to use his private arsenal, but the soldier’s voice of realism in his mind knew that it was inevitable. The term Armageddon came to mind, and though he hadn’t ever taken it seriously enough to research it, it was common knowledge that whatever it was, it would be violent.

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA, UNITED STATES

“Eva, get away from the window!” Martinez said, rushing across the room to pick up his daughter with one arm and spin her away from the large plate of broken glass. Through the jagged fissures, he could see the meteor shower that she had been watching.

“Is everything okay?” Helmsley asked over the SAT phone.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, handing his daughter over to Yvette, who had run into the room mouthing a silent apology. “Someone threw a rock through our front window about twenty minutes ago, but it was just vandalism. My daughter was a little too close to the broken glass. So far, we haven’t had any breakin attempts or actual violence to deal with.”

“Good. Can you make it to the Marine Corps Air Station in Miramar?”

“Uh … from the news, it looks like the streets are getting crazy, but we’ll get there one way or another.”

“Alright. When you arrive, go to the main gate and give them your names. You’ll be escorted to the Combat Logistics Company, and they’ll make arrangements to get you down to Mexico City where we’ll have a Null transport chopper waiting for you. I can’t guarantee that it’ll be a smooth flight, so make sure you warn your family.”

“I will. Thank you, sir,” Martinez said, hanging up the phone.

“John, what’s going on?”

Martinez looked toward his wife, but his mind was racing with the details of what they would need to pack.

“John?”

“Um … sorry. We’re getting out of here. Pack some clothes for us, everything you can fit into our larger suitcases.”

“What kind of clothes, like jackets? Where are we going?”

“Venezuela.”

Yvette’s face scrunched into confusion.

“We fly out of Miramar, but don’t worry about the logistics. Just get some clothes together, and I’ll grab some snacks.”

“What about your gun?” Yvette asked.

Martinez lifted the side of his shirt and showed her the hidden holster.

She nodded and turned toward the hallway with a serious look on her face.

“Baby,” Martinez said quickly.

Yvette turned around.

Martinez ran over and kissed her hard on the lips. “We’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she said, turning again to walk down the hall to Eva’s bedroom. Her serious expression hadn’t changed.

THE ROYAL PALACE

ORUD

Kael could sense the fear of the guard trapped beneath the rubble, and he reached out to him.

We’re going to get you out. Keep still and take small breaths.

The guard’s tension eased a little, but now there was confusion as well. Kael wasn’t sure how much his mental message had helped, but his sense was very useful for clearing away the stone blocks and structural timbers that had collapsed during the earthquake.

“I have the corner of it,” Dacien said, pulling upward on a broken chunk of wood.

Kael inspected the surrounding rubble and could feel how everything would move in its absence. “Yes, that’s the one. Go ahead and pull.”

Dacien’s muscles strained. Kael wrapped his sense around the beam, pulling mentally, while adding his own arms and hands to the effort. The beam shifted, then came free, tumbling down the side of the rubble pile.

The Orudan soldiers below stepped out of the way until the wood came to a stop. Then they picked it up and hauled it away.

Kael and Dacien grabbed the hand that was now sticking up from the pile of broken rock. They pulled, and the guard struggled from his temporary prison, coughing on the fine white dust that permeated the rubble. Dacien clapped the man on the back and helped him step away from the hole he had just come out of.

Kael could have moved the rubble faster on his own, but no one outside of his friends and family knew about his other abilities. The sight of levitating blocks of marble might have frightened the citizens and soldiers even more than the red moon and shootings stars that they had witnessed last night.

With the late-morning sun beating down on his back, Kael felt a trickle of sweat run down his spine. The air felt more humid than normal. He reached up and wiped the moisture from his forehead with the back of his hand and inspected the rubble again with his sense. “The next one we need to move is that broken block there, with the brown …” Kael paused. A faint thrumming noise drifted to his ears. Though his mind knew instantly what it was, the sound was so far outside of the context of his current reality that it took him a few seconds to admit the truth of it.

“Is that thunder?” Dacien asked.

Kael stood up from his hunched position and looked down the length of the collapsed wall. Fifty meters away, Adair and Saba were both standing up and looking in Kael’s direction. They heard it too, and Kael could see from his father’s posture that he also knew exactly what it was.

“It’s a helicopter,” Kael finally answered.

There was a long pause before Dacien replied. “Isn’t that the flying machine you told me about?”

“Yes,” Kael said, now scanning the horizon in all directions.

“But that’s …”

When Dacien didn’t finish his thought, Kael added, “From the next world.”

“How could that be? The portal is sealed,” his friend replied.

Kael spotted a dark object just above the western horizon. It appeared to grow slowly at first, then with exponential speed. He chose a path down the collapsed wall until he was standing on the grass of the Palace grounds. The Orudan guards were also abandoning the rubble and gathering to observe this unusual sight. A minute later, Saba and Adair came to a stop beside Kael.

“I don’t understand,” Dacien said again.

Kael kept his eyes on the object in the sky, which he could now see was a dark green color. “The worlds have merged,” he realized with a sad resignation. “I saw it in Brazil when we were flying to the portal. I thought it was the mist of the jungle creating an optical illusion, but I saw mountains where there weren’t any. And I also noticed it when we were sailing toward Bastul, I just didn’t realize what was happening.”

Saba came a few steps closer and made eye contact with Kael. “And the In-Between?”

“It was there too. The light flows like a river from one world to the next. There are great maelstroms where the flow gathers, and I could feel that the worlds were closer to each other than the last time I went through. I thought it was just because I was more aware this time.”

The pulsing sound of the rotor system now beat like a drum across the land. Kael could see the outline of the chopper and noted that it was a transport, not a gunship. His worry lessened somewhat, but he still projected his sense toward the machine to inspect it as soon as it came within his range.

“General Gallus, shall I alert the Guard?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Kael, is it an enemy?” Dacien asked.

The chopper was now beginning to circle the area to determine a proper landing site. “No. It’s a friendly.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This is an ally, not an enemy,” he corrected himself, using language that Dacien was more familiar with. “Tell the Palace Guard to stand down and have someone notify the Empress so she doesn’t worry.”

Dacien turned to the soldier. “You heard the man.”

“Yes, General,” he replied, turning to run toward the Palace.

“Kael?” Saba said loud enough to be heard over the mechanical beast in the sky. His voice was thick with implied doom.

Kael knew instantly what the old man was thinking, even before he spoke it. The merging of the worlds implied that there was no longer anything separating them all from the last four Myndarym. Everyone was in danger.

The pilot had made a complete circle around the Palace and was now descending toward the lawn a few dozen meters in front of them. Kael finally allowed himself to take his eyes off the machine in order to look at the men standing with him. Each was special in his own right. A father. A friend. A mentor.

“I don’t understand,” Dacien said.

“Our time of peace is over,” Kael explained. “The final battle has begun.”

The transport helicopter touched down on three wheels in the middle of the Palace grounds. Expertly trimmed trees and short blades of green grass whipped in all directions from the pneumatic assault of the rotary wings. Clouds of dust curled up around it, demonstrating its god-like power to the primitive soldiers who shrank back in fear, clutching for their weapons.

Kael stepped forward and walked into the chaos.

The cargo door slid sideways, and Thompson stepped out onto the grass, eyes intently focused on his fellow warrior.

__________

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B OOKS BY JASON TESAR

THE AWAKENED

Awaken His Eyes | Book 1

Paths of Destruction | Book 2

Hands to Make War | Book 3

Combined Edition | Books 1-3

Seeds of Corruption | Book 4

Hidden from Men | Book 5

Foundations of the World | Book 6

Combined Edition | Books 4-6

WANDERING STARS

Incarnation | Volume 1

Manifestation | Volume 2

Inhabitation | Volume 3

Regeneration | Volume 4

The Making of Incarnation | A Reader’s Companion

OTHER STORIES

Emit (a short story)

HOW YOU CAN HELP

Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review at Amazon. Your help is greatly appreciated!

HOW YOU CAN CONNECT

Sign up for Jason’s email list to receive behind-the-scenes info on his fictional worlds and characters, exclusive content on his writing and publishing adventures, and book release notifications. If you’d like to connect with Jason, you can do so at any of the following locations, or send him an email at jasontesar@yahoo.com.

Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | Goodreads | Pinterest

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jason used to work in the microelectronics industry, developing and improving processes and writing technical documentation. He is now a full-time author, living in Colorado with his beautiful wife and two children. Visit his blog to read a full bio.

GLOSSARY AND PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

The following is a glossary of characters, terms, and locations mentioned throughout this and subsequent books of the Awakened series.

The vowels section below contains characters, or arrangements of characters, which are used in the pronunciation section of glossary entries. Each vowel sound is followed by an example of common words using the same sound.

The additional consonants section also contains characters, or arrangements of characters, which are used in the pronunciation section of glossary entries. These sounds are not used in the English language, but examples are found in other languages and are listed for reference.

Glossary entries contain the word or phrase, its correct pronunciation (including syllables and emphasis) if needed, and a description. The format for each entry is as follows:

Word or phrase \pro-nun-see-ey-shuhn\ Description

VOWELS

[a] apple, sad

[ey] hate, day

[ah] arm, father

[air] dare, careful

[e] empty, get

[ee] eat, see

[eer] ear, hero

[er] early, word

[i] it, finish

[ahy] sight, blind

[o] odd, frost

[oh] open, road

[ew] food, shrewd

[oo] good, book

[oi] oil, choice

[ou] loud, how

[uh] under, tug

ADDITIONAL CONSONANTS

[r] rojo (Spanish)

[zh] joie de vivre (French)

[kh] loch (Scots)

GLOSSARY

Adair Lorus \uh-dair lohr-uhs\ Former colonel and governor of Bastul. Husband of Maeryn. Father of Kael and Aelia.

Aelia Lorus \ey-lee-uh lohr-uhs\ Daughter of Adair and Maeryn Lorus. Sibling of Kael Lorus. Wife of Dacien Gallus. Mother of Suline Gallus.

AI (Artificial Intelligence) The intelligence exhibited by machines or software and the branch of computer science dedicated to developing it. Artificial intelligence. (2014, March 15). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:08, March 20, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Artificial_intelligence&oldid=599756480

Aksai Chin One of two main disputed border areas between China and India. Aksai Chin. (2014, February 7). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 17:10, March 20, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Aksai_Chin&oldid=594364392

Amatru \ah-mah-trew\ The combined military forces in the Eternal realm who are faithful to the Holy One. The angelic military.

Amy Marshall \ey-mee mahr-shuhl\ Wife of Liam Marshall, the younger of Rhiannon Marshall’s two sons.

Anatoly Rugov \a-nah-toh-lee rew-gahv\ Former director of Null’s Eastern Operations Division (EOD); responsible for all the agency’s operations in Russia, Asia, and Australia. Cover identity for Satarel.

Armaros \ahr-mahr-ohs\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

Assistant Team Leader (ATL) A member of one of Null’s tactical teams, responsible for the team’s training, medical care, and long-range defensive weaponry.

Baraquijal \bah-rahk-wi-zhahl\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

Bastul \ba-stewl\ Southern-most city in the Orudan Empire, located at the tip of the Southern Territory. Formerly referred to as the “Southern Jewel” for its glittering beauty in the way that its waters reflected both sunrises and sunsets.

Bastul Outpost Formerly, the High Temple of the Kaliel. Officially renamed by the Orudan Empire after its seizure during the battle against Rameel.

BioSynthe Global The parent company over a global network of subsidiaries founded for the advancement of numerous scientific fields, such as molecular biology, genetics, and biochemistry. Owned by Kokabiel.

Bolt Thrower Also called ballista. A platform-mounted missile system used in ancient civilizations, similar to an oversized crossbow.

Brendan Marshall \bren-den mahr-shuhl\ The older of Rhiannon Marshall’s two sons.

Christopher Greer \kri-stoh-fer greer\ One of Devon Greer’s youngest twin sons.

CAA (Civil Aviation Authority) The CAA is the statutory corporation which oversees and regulates all aspects of civil aviation in the United Kingdom. Civil Aviation Authority (United Kingdom). (2014, March 16). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:43, March 20, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Civil_Aviation_Authority_(United_Kingdom)&oldid=599882268

COMM Abbreviation for communications. The communications system used for Null’s field operations.

COMM Operator (Communications Operator) A member of one of Null’s tactical teams, responsible for relaying the team’s movements to their operational command.

COMM Relay Station One of several communications hubs located throughout the world, responsible for coordinating and managing Null’s internal communications system.

Command In a localized sense, the title used during a field operation to designate the mission’s base of operations and communications hub. In a generalized sense, the title used to refer to Null’s global headquarters.

Command Room The central area, typically a single room, where both field operations and intelligence groups coordinate activities for an operation. Every divisional and regional facility of Null used to conduct field operations contains a command room.

Dacien Gallus \dey-see-en gal-uhs\ Formerly the general of the Southern Territory of the Orudan Empire. Currently the general of the newly created Western Territory. Friend of Kael Lorus. Husband of Aelia Gallus. Father of Suline Gallus.

Darren Jensen \dair-en jen-suhn\ Formerly the second security officer (S-2) on TAC 1.

Daud \doud\ Formerly a lieutenant in Armaros’ army of personal guards.

Deputy Director (Null) The highest position of authority within one of Null’s regional offices.

Devon Greer \de-vuhn greer\ Team leader (TL) of TAC 1.

Directed Energy Weapon (DEW) A weapon that emits energy in an aimed direction without the means of a projectile. By transferring energy to a target, it can be used for lethal or non-lethal means. Directed-energy weapon. (2014, March 20). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:15, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Directed-energy_weapon&oldid=600415994

Director (Null) The highest position of authority within one of Null’s divisions.

Edwyn Pierce (Sir) \ed-win peers\ Founder of Unus Communications. Appointed as a UN special ambassador for Middle East peace negotiations.

Khalid Muzar (Dr.) \kah-leed mew-zahr\ Macroeconomics expert. Author of the New York Times bestseller, Oil: The Fuel of a Global Economy.

Dual-Origin Principle Refers to the phenomenon that a living being who comes into existence in the Temporal realm also comes into existence in the Eternal realm. This principle has been exploited by the Marotru to increase their military strength in a realm where nothing new can be created through normal means.

Eastern Operations Division (EOD) A division of Null, headquartered in Moscow, Russia; responsible for operations in Russia, Asia, and Australia.

Electrochromatic Also called electrochromism. The phenomenon displayed by some materials of reversibly changing color when electrical charge is applied. Electrochromism. (2014, February 6). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:26, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Electrochromism&oldid=594202962

Eric Thompson \air-ik tomp-suhn\ Assistant team leader (ATL) of TAC 1.

Eternal Realm The portion of the creation spectrum that is eternal, in contrast to the portion that is temporal.

Eva Martinez \ey-vuh mahr-tee-nez\ Daughter of John and Yvette Martinez.

EVAC Abbreviation for evacuation.

Ezekiyel \ez-e-kee-el\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

FAA (Federal Aviation Administration) An agency of the United States Department of Transportation responsible for regulating and overseeing all aspects of American civil aviation.

Falton A Null TECH specialist assigned to work with TAC 1.

Field Operations (Field OPs) A department within each of Null’s regional offices, responsible for planning and conducting field operations.

Frank Bradley \freynk brad-lee\ Communications Coordinator, temporarily assigned to base security in Aksai Chin.

Geiger Counter \gahy-ger\ Also called A Geiger–Müller counter. A type of particle detector that measures ionizing radiation. Geiger counter. (2014, March 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:37, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Geiger_counter&oldid=599949211

George Barrett \johrj bair-it\ Former deputy director of Null’s South and Central Americas office.

Greg Suncio \greyg suhn-see-oh\ Former head of field operations for Null’s South and Central Americas office.

Gryllus \gril-uhs\ Captain of the trade vessel in which Kael hid after escaping the Monastery. Usually referred to as Captain.

Gunwale \guhn-weyl\ The top edge of the side of a boat. Gunwale. (2013, October 28). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:39, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Gunwale&oldid=579030361

HALO \hey-loh\ Acronym for high-altitude, low opening. A method of delivering personnel, equipment, and supplies from a transport aircraft at a high altitude via free-fall parachute insertion. High-altitude military parachuting. (2014, March 12). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 16:43, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=High-altitude_military_parachuting&oldid=599270375

Head of Field Operations A position of authority at each of Null’s regional offices responsible for tactical teams, security, and coordination of field operations.

Head of Intelligence A position of authority at each Null’s regional offices responsible for collecting and analyzing intelligence data.

Hong Kong Garrison The garrison of the PLA in Hong Kong.

Horn Cleat A two-sided apparatus to which a rope is secured.

INTEL Abbreviation for intelligence. A piece of valuable data or information about a subject or enemy. Also used to refer to an intelligence group at one of Null’s regional offices.

Intelligence A department within one of Null’s regional offices responsible for collecting and analyzing intelligence data.

IR Abbreviation for infrared.

Jim Helmsley \jim helm-zlee\ Former director of Null’s Western Operations Division, responsible for all the agency’s operations in North, Central, and South America.

John Martinez \jahn mahr-tee-nez\ The first security officer (S-1) of TAC 1.

Joshua Greer \jah-shew-uh greer\ The oldest son of Devon Greer.

Kael Lorus \keyl lohr-uhs\ Son of Adair Lorus and Maeryn Lorus. Sibling of Aelia Gallus. Uncle of Suline Gallus.

Kaliel \kuh-leel\ An ancient cult dedicated to serving the demon god Rameel and reclaiming the earth for his ownership. The Kaliel predated the Orudan Empire and had already vanished into folklore by the time of the Empire’s establishment.

Katrina Greer \kuh-tree-nuh greer\ Wife of Devon Greer. Also called Trina.

Key One of the nine items crafted by the Myndar Ezekiyel, which allow beings to move from one temporal world to another through the portal.

Kinetic Energy In physics, the kinetic energy of an object is the energy which it possesses due to its motion. Kinetic energy. (2014, March 19). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 18:41, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Kinetic_energy&oldid=600243693

Kokabiel \koh-kuh-bee-el\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

Korgan \kohr-gen\ The barbaric peoples of the uncharted lands northeast of the Northern Wall of the Orudan Empire. Also called Korgs.

LED Acronym for light-emitting diode.

Lemus \lee-muhs\ Former colonel and governor of Bastul, appointed as Adair’s replacement after Adair’s disappearance.

Leoran \ley-ohr-uhn\ Capital city of the Southern Territory of the Orudan Empire, located southwest of Orud.

Liam Marshall \lee-uhm mahr-shuhl\ The younger of Rhiannon Marshall’s two sons.

Low-Ready A downward-angled position of a held firearm which allows an unobstructed view to the front, and keeps the weapon readily available for use on short notice.

Madison Greer \ma-di-suhn greer\ Daughter of Devon and Katrina Greer. Also called Maddie.

Maeryn Lorus \mair-en lohr-uhs\ Former governess of Bastul. Wife of Adair Lorus. Mother of Kael Lorus and Aelia Gallus. Grandmother of Suline Gallus. First Empress of the Orudan Empire.

Magnus Calidon \mag-nuhs kal-i-don\ Former general of the Northern Territory of the Orudan Empire who later became emperor. Former leader of the Resistance. Former high priest of the Kaliel.

Malmstrom Air Force Base A United States Air Force base in Great Falls, Cascade County, Montana, United States. It is the home of the 341st Missile Wing of the Air Force Global Strike Command (AFGSC). Malmstrom Air Force Base. (2014, January 31). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 18:49, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Malmstrom_Air_Force_Base&oldid=593249856

Mark The team leader of a Null tactical team who discovers one of Armaros’ projects in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

Mark Zylski \mahrk zil-skee\ Former COMM operator for TAC 1.

Marotru \mah-roh-trew\ The combined military forces in the Eternal realm who have rebelled against the Holy One. The demonic military.

Monastery The place where Kael was raised and trained in the arts of war. An island facility previously owned and operated by the Kaliel. Officially renamed Suppard Outpost after its seizure by the Orudan Empire.

M-SPEC Abbreviation for multi-spectral imaging system. The imaging system used by all of Null’s intelligence groups for analysis of electromagnetic radiation data.

Myndar \min-dahr\ The singular term for a member of the Myndarym.

Myndarym \min-dahr-im\ The plural term for the angelic race entrusted with reshaping the Temporal realm after its separation from the Eternal realm.

Nephiylim \nef-eel-im\ The plural term for the offspring of angelic-human or angelic-animal copulation.

Night Vision Device (NVD) A vision apparatus which amplifies ambient light to allow visibility during nighttime or in locations of darkness.

Nijambu \ni-jam-bew\ An ancient and primitive trade port, far to the south and beyond the reach of the Orudan Empire. One of the last functional pieces of infrastructure of a civilization that began its decline before the Orudan Empire was founded.

Nikolaus Almstedt \nik-oh-luhs ahlm-stet\ Former team leader for Bravo Team, a tactical team at Null’s Scandinavia and Eastern Europe office.

Null A secret organization, formerly the Global Conspiracies Division of the CIA, formed to investigate and combat global conspiracies through the employment of intelligence and paramilitary operations.

Objective Data Composition (ODC) A compilation of graphical and alphanumeric data, displayed in a command room during a Null field operation. Typically centered around the operational objective, the ODC displays terrain and atmospheric data as well as Team movements.

OFCOM (Federal Office of Communications) A communications regulatory agency for Switzerland. Federal Department of Environment, Transport, Energy and Communications. (2013, December 12). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 18:59, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Federal_Department_of_Environment,_Transport,_Energy_and_Communications&oldid=585752903

Oil Field A region with an abundance of oil wells extracting petroleum (crude oil) from below ground. Oil field. (2014, March 5). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:03, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Oil_field&oldid=598323425

OP Abbreviation for operation.

Oranius \oh-ran-ee-uhs\ The lieutenant who served under Dacien Gallus when he was captain of the guard in the city of Bastul. Having been left in charge of the city since the Syvaku invasion, Oranius now functions as the city leader.

Orud \oh-ruhd\ Capital city of the Orudan Empire.

Orudan \oh-rew-dan\ The people of the Empire of Orud.

Overmap Similar to a Null ODC, an overmap is a compilation of graphical and alphanumeric data available to Armaros’ personal guards, displayed in their individual fields-of-view.

PLA (People’s Liberation Army) The military of the Communist Party of China.

Pops The grandfather of Eric Thompson.

Portal The device which allows passage between the three worlds of the Temporal realm.

Ragnarök In Norse mythology, Ragnarök is a series of future events, including a great battle foretold to ultimately result in the death of a number of major figures (including the gods Odin, Thor, Týr, Freyr, Heimdallr, and Loki), the occurrence of various natural disasters, and the subsequent submersion of the world in water. Ragnarök. (2014, April 17). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 20:52, April 23, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Ragnar%C3%B6k&oldid=604631875

Rameel \rah-mey-el\ The All-Powerful. One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the Kaliel.

Rhiannon Marshall \ree-a-nuhn mahr-shuhl\ Former director of Null’s Central Operations Division, responsible for all the agency’s operations in Europe and Africa.

RHIB Acronym for rigid-hull inflatable-boat.

Roger McKendrick \rah-jer mik-ken-drik\ Team leader for TAC 12

Rubik’s Cube A 3-D combination puzzle invented in 1974 by Hungarian sculptor and professor of architecture Ernő Rubik. Rubik’s Cube. (2014, March 19). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:13, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Rubik%27s_Cube&oldid=600273704

Ruslan Tokar \ruhs-lan toh-kar\ Deputy director of Null’s Eastern Operations Division (EOD).

Ryan Collins \rahy-an kahl-inz\ One member of the two-man transport team assigned to move Adair from Null’s Western Operations Division in McLean, Virginia, to its South and Central Americas office in Bogotá, Colombia. Deceased sibling of Sean Collins.

Saba \sah-bah\ Kael’s childhood mentor. Friend of the Lorus family. Also known as Sariel.

Sariel \sah-ree-el\ Formerly a soldier in the Amatru, a Myndar who fled from the Eternal realm and later waged war against the other rebellious Myndarym.

SAT Abbreviation for satellite.

Satarel \sah-tah-rel\ One of the mystical beings Saba names after the defeat of the All-Powerful.

Sean Collins \shahn kahl-inz\ One member of the two-man transport team assigned to move Adair from Null’s Western Operations Division in McLean, Virginia, to its South and Central Americas office in Bogotá, Colombia. Brother of Ryan Collins.

Sebastian Greer \se-bas-teeuhn greer\ One of Devon Greer’s youngest twin sons.

SEC Abbreviation for security.

Security Leader A position of authority within a Null regional office responsible for managing security efforts. The security leader reports directly to the head of field operations.

Security Officer Two of the five members of a Null tactical team, responsible for observation and medium-range, heavy defense weaponry.

Security Team A defense-oriented group of soldiers within a Null regional office, whose purpose is to secure Null personnel and facilities. As a general term, it can refer to one or more ten-person teams, or the entire security force.

Security Detail A team assigned to protect the personal security of an individual or group. Can be made up of military personnel, private security contractors, or law enforcement agents. Also called PSD (Protective Services Detail, Personal Security Detachment, or Personal Security Detail). Security detail. (2014, February 12). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:26, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Security_detail&oldid=595142909

Senior Analyst The senior member of a Null intelligence group, responsible for collecting and analyzing intelligence data. The senior analyst reports directly to the head of intelligence.

Shaper Slang term for a Myndar.

Shape/Shaping The ability of a Myndar to change its form, or the form of another being or object.

Skradek \skra-dek\ One of the generals in Armaros’ army of personal guards.

SOCOM (United States Special Operations Command, or USSOCOM) The Unified Combatant Command charged with overseeing the various Special Operations Component Commands of the Army, Air Force, Navy and Marine Corps of the United States Armed Forces. United States Special Operations Command. (2014, March 19). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:36, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=United_States_Special_Operations_Command&oldid=600250653

Suline Gallus \sew-leen gal-uhs\ Daughter of Dacien Gallus and Aelia Gallus. Granddaughter of Maeryn Lorus and Adair Lorus. Niece of Kael Lorus.

Susan The homecare nurse hired by Eric Thompson to take care of his ailing grandfather, Pops.

Syvaku \si-vuh-kew\ The barbaric peoples of the uncharted territory across the ocean southwest of Bastul.

Tabia \tah-bee-uh\ A servant assigned by the Empire to help Dacien and Aelia Gallus raise their daughter Suline through infancy.

TAC Abbreviation for tactical. One of Null’s five-member paramilitary units, assigned to the field operations group of a regional office.

Taras \tah-rahs\ An intelligence analyst at Null’s Eastern Operations Division.

Team Leader (TL) The lead member of a Null tactical team, responsible for long-range, precision fire weaponry, directing Team movements, and making “on-field” decisions to achieve mission objectives.

TECH Abbreviation for technical.

TECH Specialist A member of Null’s support personnel, specializing in computer and communications hardware and software.

Temple Formerly called the High Temple, or High Temple of the Kaliel. The place where Kael first met the All-Powerful. A secret facility built inside an inactive volcano off the western coast of Bastul, which served as the main headquarters for the Kaliel. Officially renamed Bastul Outpost after it was seized by the Orudan Empire.

Temporal Realm The portion of the creation spectrum that is temporal, in contrast to the portion that is eternal. The Temporal realm now exists as three worlds.

The Awakened The subject of an ancient prophecy regarding angels who abandoned their home to inhabit earth. The Awakened is thought to be a human warrior who will ultimately destroy the wandering angels.

The Prophecy Refers to the prophecy of the Awakened. See also The Awakened.

Thermal A general term referring to the portion of Null’s M-SPEC system that captures infrared wavelengths of electromagnetic radiation, or the radiant temperature of objects.

Tim Matthews \tim math-yewz\ Former head of intelligence for Null’s South and Central Americas region office.

Trunkline A circuit which connects parts of a network. Trunking. (2013, November 29). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:47, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Trunking&oldid=583825911

UH-60 A four-bladed, twin-engine, medium-lift utility helicopter manufactured by Sikorsky Aircraft. Also called Blackhawk. Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk. (2014, March 21). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:49, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Sikorsky_UH-60_Black_Hawk&oldid=600597891

UN (United Nations) An intergovernmental organization established on 24 October 1945 to promote international co-operation. United Nations. (2014, March 13). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:51, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=United_Nations&oldid=599509643

UN General Assembly One of the six principal organs of the United Nations and the only one in which all member nations have equal representation. United Nations General Assembly. (2014, March 2). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:52, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=United_Nations_General_Assembly&oldid=597787570

UN Security Council One of the six principal organs of the United Nations, charged with the maintenance of international peace and security. Its powers include the establishment of peacekeeping operations, the establishment of international sanctions, and the authorization of military action through Security Council resolutions; it is the only UN body with the authority to issue binding resolutions to member states. United Nations Security Council. (2014, March 19). In Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Retrieved 19:54, March 21, 2014, from http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=United_Nations_Security_Council&oldid=600291153

Wandering Stars A renegade faction of angels (specifically Myndarym) who abandoned their home to inhabit earth and take wives from among the daughters of men.

Western Operations Division (WOD) A former division of Null, headquartered in McLean, Virginia, United States; responsible for operations in North, Central, and South America.

Yvette Martinez \ee-vet mahr-tee-nez\ Wife of John Martinez.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank Carly Tesar for her creative wisdom in refining the cover design on Foundations of the World.

I would also like to thank Carly Tesar, Cindy Tesar, Claudette Cruz, Kim Sheard, and Ronda Swolley for their precious time and expertise in editing.

MAP OF THE ORUDAN EMPIRE

DIAGRAM OF BASTUL OUTPOST – AERIAL VIEW

DIAGRAM OF BASTUL OUTPOST – PROFILE VIEW

SYNOPSIS OF

Hidden From Men | THE AWAKENED BOOK Five

Inside Null’s regional office for Scandinavia and Eastern Europe, Kael hears the announcement that Adair is awake. He rushes down to the medical wing with TAC 1 following closely behind and reunites with his father who ceased to be part of his life twenty-two years ago. What he finds is a broken man, a shadow of the former colonel and governor of Bastul that he used to know. With his attention divided between attacking the enemy and protecting his fragile father, Kael struggles to choose a path forward.

Daud, formerly one of Armaros’ personal guards, has been fundamentally changed by his confrontation with Kael. Seeking answers to his newfound questions, he breaks out of Null captivity and begins tracking the one who changed him.

After the seizure of Null’s regional office in Bogotá, Armaros launches an assault campaign using his intelligence and law enforcement resources under the guise of combatting a global terrorist organization. One by one Null’s facilities fall, and with each victory Armaros gains momentum.

Kael and Adair are forced to escape to Russia with TAC 1 and find refuge with the remnants of Null’s leadership. As the directors track the progress of their own campaign of disinformation, Kael begins to experiment with his sensory ability, preparing himself for the inevitable conflict with Armaros. But when a Russian intelligence agency finds them hiding out on a private estate, it becomes clear that there is a mole inside their group. A battle erupts and Kael rushes to the aid of his father, only to realize for the first time that Adair is a formidable soldier in his own right.

In the aftermath of the battle, Rugov, Null’s director of Eastern Operations, devises a plan to draw out Armaros’ location as well as the identity of the mole by using a communications relay station as a decoy for Null’s Central Command. While he leaves to make the arrangements, the others travel on horseback through the rugged terrain of Russia’s forests toward their next meeting place. Along the way, Adair is finally able to connect with his son by helping him think through the enemy’s motives and actions. Kael arrives at the shocking truth that Null is the organization of a traitorous Myndar named Satarel who vanished many years ago, and also discovers a new facet of his sense—the ability to read the mind of someone he touches.

Back in Kael’s home world, Dacien has been appointed as general of the newly created Western Territory and plans to travel to Leoran to appoint his replacement for the Southern Territory. When Maeryn, now the Empress of the Orudan Empire, realizes that her world is vulnerable to attack from enemies on the other side of the portal, she sends Orud soldiers with Dacien to reinforce the security at the former High Temple of the Kaliel. When Dacien arrives in Bastul, he discovers that a scout from another world has already come through. He alerts Leoran to send whatever soldiers they can spare, then sends a warning to the Empress to prepare for invasion.

At Null’s Eastern COMM Relay Station near the border of Kazakhstan, the final conflict is set in motion when Matthews contacts Armaros to reveal the location of what he believes to be Command. Instead of the personal attack that the group had hoped it would provoke, Armaros responds by sending a squadron of jets with weaponry superior to any defenses that Null has available. With their destruction approaching at supersonic speed, Kael goes in search of Adair who thinks he has discovered the identity of the mole. Adair finds his own way back to the group and they flee the facility, believing that Kael is with them. As the group watches the destruction of the decoy Command Center from a distance, Kokabiel posing as Kael, begins executing members of the group. Having realized that Kokabiel was the mole all along, the real Kael tracks down the group and uses his sense to paralyze the enemy and read his mind. Then, he turns TAC 1 loose on Kokabiel and they execute him.

The deaths of Nikolaus and Jensen weigh heavily on the group. All seems lost—Armaros’ location is still a mystery, Satarel’s identity is unknown, and two thirds of Null has either been destroyed or forced underground, leaving them with few resources to continue the battle.

But Kael isn’t finished. He reveals that Satarel and Rugov are one and the same person, and he turns the enemy’s strategy around by posing as Kokabiel to send this information to Armaros. Armaros responds by dispatching five teams of his personal guards to Russia to kill Satarel, but when they arrive, they learn that someone has already executed their target.

Daud has extracted from Satarel the knowledge that Kael was supposedly killed during the destruction of Null’s Command Center. Without The Awakened to answer his questions, Daud changes his objective to finding his creators and waits in ambush for Armaros’ guards to acquire them as his own resources.