Anthem's Fall

Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Sixteen

Vengelis

 The lack of answers was gnawing at Vengelis as he looked down on the sprawling lands of Filgaia. In Master Tolland's last moment of life, amid the indescribable carnage of Sejeroreich, this peculiar place had come to his mind. Master Tolland had thought of this place and of a salvation from the Felixes.

 The two were somehow connected.

 Far below, rolling hills dotted with town centers and fields passed by. A thin ribbon of highway snaked north to south, and Vengelis followed the faint reflections of tiny windshields that glinted in the sun. Having spent many healing hours in the medical rooms before the Harbinger I touched down, his features were back to normal. He looked every bit the Royal son once again, but Vengelis regarded his healed face with bitter embarrassment. It was the face of a failed sentinel. Though his expression was free of bruises and lacerations, there were shadows of sleeplessness under his tired eyes.

 The Felixes haunted his every waking thought. The memory of the rampant death in Sejeroreich had rendered sleep impossible for many nights. Even now, under the brilliant sun, Vengelis saw only the eyes of the machines. The startling blue gaze filled him with an enervate dread. Vengelis had never felt so powerless. The Felixes had beaten him, and so too had the complexity of Pral Nerol's research. He could not handle either. From what he could piece together, Pral Nerol and his researchers had used Primus blood to create the machines that nearly took his life. The Felixes used Primus cells to architect their own form. This made intuitive sense to Vengelis, as the machines were Primus. Yet Vengelis recalled striking the blonde Felix in the temple. The side of her head had felt like a block of heavy iron against his knuckles. He remembered the profound ringing sound of the impact—it was as though he had struck a giant gong. There was nothing natural about that skull, or that woman.

 "What is the plan?" Hoff called over the rushing air as the three unwelcome visitors soared southward across the expansive sky.

  "While I was researching on the ship, I found a planned meeting of scientists that's going on today in a city to our south," Vengelis yelled into the wind, which pushed back his hair and roared in his ears. "I've had Pral Nerol's research translated into their languages. My plan is to arrive at this meeting, present the scientists with Nerol's work on the Felixes, and demand that they help me unravel its cryptic nature. If I can learn anything, it will be worth the effort. From there, I do not yet know what our long-term plan will be."

"And what if they don't give in to your requests?" Darien asked.

"They will," Vengelis said, and brought his attention to the blurred collision of navy skies and rolling hills against the southern horizon. "Based off the reaction of those people in the woods, I'd say it's clear we aren't going to blend in here—or at least not you two. I got the impression that family in the house thought I was a human and you both were . . . something else. They were begging me to help them get away from the two of you. Also those men with the firearms were terrified before they even realized their weapons were useless. Judging by that behavior, I think there's something unnatural about both of your appearances. I'll venture a guess it is your sizes."

            "They're so small with their little guns," Hoff called. Vengelis turned to him with an expression of cool disdain, and Hoff quickly clarified his meaning. "Small as in weak, not in a Royal sense."

            "Not everyone was bred, Lord General. But small or large, I want to attract as little attention as possible until the time is right. It would be advantageous to catch the scientists off guard. The last thing I want is for an alarm to sound and cities to evacuate before I have a chance to corral them."