Magician's Blood

1--Captain

Retrieving entry...

-1/Captain

Magician's Blood-Kisho

*

July 15th, 3094 GSC—18:19 Standard Time—20:24 Local Time

Moza—Laric System—Moza Sector

Interior of the Grand Chapel of Moza

Glorious twilight from the triple moons spilled in through the greatest stained-glass display the world could boast. Candles burned, the light of their flames dancing on the walls and on the glittering surfaces of priceless artifacts around the chapel. Familiars, mostly shadowed creatures like long black ghosts, played a perpetual orchestra that rang in the halls and even out into the courtyards,surrounding the chapel in an atmosphere of haunting beauty.

A flash of blue from a flowing cape. The glimmer of a blade in the candlelight. The clicking of her boots, one step at a time, up a gold-leafed staircase that glowed in the light. Golden hair that fell in a braid—it was said that when she attacked, the braid lifted,and didn't settle again until her enemies were felled. And eyes that penetrated all defenses, eyes that saw everything, and everyone—eyes before which all was laid bare.

She reached the top of the staircase, and knelt before the altar. The man standing there, tall, proud, tanned, hair red as the flame, turned slowly to face her.

"Father," she said, "you summoned me."

He stared, not a word spoken. His lips were the lips that never bore a smile, and the marks of that were clear on his face. His eyes were like hers, but at once her opposite's: they laid all bare before them, but not to open the lies and find the truth. His dark eyes saw secrets, and laid bare every weakness of the person before him.

"You've come, Sister Vasavilli. I see the time of day is no matter for your visits... as usual."

Sister of the Holy Order, Elicia Vasavilli, rose slowly. "I suspected you had not finished your rituals, Father."

"Indeed." He turned away again, casting his gaze back to the mighty stained-glass display. In it, an image of His Eye, watching over all, seeing every lie and every deception. The depictions of the Eight Heresies surrounded it in convulsions, overwhelmed by His Brilliance. It was the only stained-glass on the planet that depicted part of Him, and even though the display alone was ten stories high and framed perfectly the sunrise on the Holy Day, the objections to displaying a part of Him had been so fierce. Surely nothing could express His Beauty?

"Your last mission went well, Sister. The resistance was quelled with no issue."

"Thank you, Father," said Elicia, though she knew well the real meaning behind his words. That it had gone well, but that her success in no way ameliorated the failure of the one before.

"Tell me something, Sister." He glanced back at her, and for a moment looked superbly noble, with the coloured moonlight spilling down over him from behind and casting him into a rainbow silhouette. "What is it about Him that you love the most?"

She closed her eyes and fought a smile. He was on to her, always on to her. But he had no way of proving it. He would fail this time as well. "That He graces us to wake each morning... and make it a better day than yesterday."

A twitch in his eye. "Wise words, Sister Vasavilli. And dangerous ones. You know that?"

Of course she knew. And she would regret nothing.

"Why have you summoned me, Father?"

He frowned in silence for the longest time, just basking there in the moons' cool glow, the wax and wane of the music, the flickering candlelight, before he moved on to her question. "There is something I would have you do, Sister. Are you familiar with the world of Aris?"

She had to pause and reach into her memories to find the answer. "Yes,"she said at last. "I know of it."

"The Church received a plea for help... they said one of their towers went dark. In a blink. Just like that. They can't connect to it, and they fear that whatever happened to it will happen to the rest of the colonists as well."

She nodded. There was no doubt—it was the work of a magician. Of what caliber? Operating for what motive? She couldn't say. "I understand."

"Your last ship is unsuited to the mission... we've prepared you a simple two-seater. Your pilot will be a man called Renault Morgan. He..."Father Daunox frowned, and in it she saw unease. "He has magician's blood, but he is no magician. However, you still will find him a valuable asset. His flying skills are phenomenal, and his marksmanship leaves nothing to be desired."

Elicia paused. It was improper to ask a direct question to someone in Father Daunox's position, but still... the curiosity ached. "No magician, Father?"

He looked up, sharply. "Indeed. He seems to have something of an...aversion, to all things magical. If you want the details..."Father Daunox closed his eyes. "I am certain he will be happy to provide them. Return in the morning, Sister, and we will give you what you need."

She gave him a deep bow. "Thank you, Father. May He watch over you in the night."

"The same to you, Sister..." he said, his voice barely audible as she turned and receded down the staircase. "May He watch over you always. Always, Sister."

He knew. He knew, and he loathed Elicia, but what could he do? She was the greatest soldier he had. That much, she knew, and so there was a smile on her lips as she left. Not on Father Daunox's. Never on his.

*

When I was young, I always heard it. That we are parts of Him, that we areparts of His Glory. That we run in His Blood and always must carryout His Will...

It never made any sense to me. None of it made any sense to me. But...that one, somehow, I found comforting.

He has blessed me with this Magic, and I will carry out His Will...