Planet B

Ch.11

Draxta walked into the group of mercenaries filled with anticipation. Finally she was going to reach the artifact and end her exhausting invasion. Years of planning and countless acts she wasn't particularly proud of would all be worth it. Soon.

Standing beside her was Melisandre, a full head taller and as always impeccably dressed for her needs. Draxta had no shame in copying her advisor's outfit exactly. Riding pants and a loose shirt made her appear just as common as any of her accompanying mercenaries, though the air in which she held herself left little doubt as to her rank in comparison to the brutes around her.

The people around her were not so fortunate. Centuries of living in this wasteland had deteriorated them, redefining what it meant to be human. Her research in the university archives told of a time when all people had the strength and constitution of the wizards, when the pestilence of the air and land and water didn't eat at people, leaving them shades of their ancestors. True, mercenaries tended to recruit the more able-bodied people, but still many of them sported grim pallors and skewed bone structures. Compared to them wizards looked divine, or at least what used to be considered divine.

The large gathering of people only reinforced to Draxta the righteousness of her cause. Wizards were blessed in this world. Not only did they have the power to make life better for themselves and others, but their innate connection to their magic strengthened their bodies, as if the magic itself sustained them.

Everyone once in a while people would be born who had no connection to the magic and still bore great constitution. Those tended to be leaders of communities or such. It was no surprise to her that both Yank and Kyver fit that mold.

"How is she progressing, Melisandre?" Draxta asked, surveying the men and women in Yank's band. The men outnumbered the women three to one, but that just meant the women who were there were definitely not to be underestimated. As she watched she saw two women sparring with actual blades, dulled practice swords nowhere in sight.

"As we expected, ma'am" Melisandre said. "Her power is growing much at the same rate as a regular adept in the University, though her peak is much higher. Given where she started, I would imagine she will reach full power within a few years, though her rate of growth will stymie shortly. It is good you are retrieving the artifact, else our rebirth into the new world would be delayed even longer."

Draxta nodded. It was the same as her last inquiry. Part of her suspected Sarah would be different from other wizards, given who she was, but that seemed to not be the case. Yes, she would have retrieved the artifact regardless of Sarah's current power, but it would have been nice to have the extra boost just in case. Draxta looked back to Melisandre.

"And she is still fully committed to the cause?" Without Sarah's power Draxta would have no hopes of rebuilding their civilization in a fertile world, a world without burning rain and monstrous predators. Predators not created by Draxta, anyway.

Melisandre nodded as she looked past Draxta. Draxta followed her gaze to see Yank making his way toward them, large, dark beard standing out in the friendly melee.

"She has had no reason to doubt," Melisandre replied. "As you have commanded, we have used terms unfamiliar to her for our invasion points and targets on the off chance she remembered anything from her time there. All she knows is what we have told her. And just yesterday I heard her talking of the wickedness of university wizards. I have no reason to think she'll change her mind. As long as we keep her at the estate we should be able to handle her easily enough."

Draxta did not respond to this, she merely pursed her lips in thought. Part of her felt guilty about keeping the truth from Sarah. It was Sarah's home they were invading, it was her people they were killing. Draxta would have preferred Sarah to be committed regardless of the details, but she couldn't risk it. There was too much at stake. A manipulated child is a small price to pay for the continued survival of their race. They'd kidnapped her at such a young age there was probably little chance she would remember names of places, but still it was better this way.