The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Seven: The Lancer

"Never bet against a lancer if you value your rebu."

—General Drogawth Bastern, Supreme Allied Commander during the last years of the Fifth Heretic War

Kitali kept up a low growl. Zaina's hand twitched toward her scrapshot, ready to draw and fire in an instant.

"Compelled by fate, no doubt," Beni continued. "We're glad—it makes what we have to do much easier."

Trying to keep a brave face, she said, "So you did follow me. I was hoping you found someone else to stalk."

In response, he twirled the black sword between his fingers. She gulped, remembering how fast he'd slaughtered the Ildegor guards and Demelia Defense Forces. There's not enough time.

Beni spat, "Why are you making this so difficult, Zaina? Anything you dream of will be yours—whatever it is you want, the Shining Will can give."

Zaina glared. "I know for a fact this isn't what you wanted before all of this. Before that thing showed up, you were a good person!"

His eye twitched. "Beni was an ignorant mortal and couldn't even fathom what he truly wanted. That was before we were shown the truth of the universe. Come now, Zaina—you, too, bear the mark. That knowledge is as much yours as it is ours. But you have refused it—why?"

A lump formed in Zaina's throat. He was corrupted beyond recognition. The voices were trying to corrupt her, too. Her hand tightened around the scrapshot's grip.

In a low, pleading tone, she said, "It's not too late to come back, Beni."

He frowned. "Why would we ever want to go back? Demelia will be gone soon. The power of a thousand worlds is at our fingertips. The Shining Will is the only truth eternal! Can't you see?"

"And what about Orna? And Eniri? You're going to leave your wife and daughter behind in all this madness?"

Beni recoiled—for a brief moment the shadow lifted from his face, revealing pain, sorrow, and horror—but only a glimpse. Darkness returned, and he chuckled. "You think bringing up organic constructs from the past will prolong this? Flesh and bone are temporary. Power—this power—is endless."

"Please," she said. "You aren't making any sense. I don't understand why you're doing this."

Beni pointed at her. "You were chosen to ascend by the Primortala's Instrument. Now you must come with us to the Hollow and take your rightful place as the new Prophet of the Shining Will."

Zaina's stomach churned. So Beni—and whatever that shadow was—had plans for her. She wanted to attack him—to rip him apart. She cast a glance toward Kitali. The limphor's fur was standing on end, and she was still growling at their stalker.

Zaina grimaced. If I charge, she'll charge. I can't—I can't fight him.

There was little chance she could make it out of a fight with Beni, much less keep the limphor safe. Even if she did, the bloodlust might overtake her, and she didn't want to think about that. Instead of risking their lives, Zaina slung her knapsack over her shoulder, turned, and ran north toward Mount Dialemor. Kitali followed, barely able to keep up as Zaina sprinted.

Beni's angry shouts were still audible as she and Kitali ran past Ildegor's outskirts. How she was running so fast was beyond her, but considering how useful the newfound speed was, she didn't question it. She glanced over her shoulder—Beni was still chasing, and he wasn't letting up this time.

Zaina scooped up Kitali; the limphor was much lighter than she remembered as they ran northward through the burnt plains. They were approaching the black meteor's impact site, from which towering plumes of dark smoke twisted into the sky. The hole was surrounded by tall, sharp stones darker than night, jutting from the ground like gnashing, uneven black teeth.