Protogue
Adept Carska sat in the lotus position before his Veil shrine. The spinning mandalas and fractal orbits wavered and gave way to static as they spun within the twin curved pillars. Every sound of gunfire and cry of pain from outside the small temple lessened Carska’s hold on the shrine.
A stray plasma bolt blew out a stained glass window of the first Paragon. Carska fought back emotions as the battle grew closer. He knew his fate, but the artwork was irreplaceable after the death of the artist nearly two thousand standard years ago.
“Adept!” An acolyte in rough spun clothes and carrying a battered coil rifle burst into the temple. “We can’t stop them! There’s too man—”
A bestial claw with obsidian nails reached out of the darkness and wrapped long fingers around the acolyte’s face. He vanished into the night where his muffled cries ended abruptly.
Carska tried to align his mind with the shrine. He needed a few moments of peace to seal it shut until the next Breaking, but the chaos around him reverberated into the Veil and there he lacked the strength to overcome the disruptions caused by the death and violence all around him.
Cries came from outside. The assailants were taking their time with the last of the men and women who’d attended to the shrine alongside Carska these many decades of service to the Veil.
Heavy blows cracked the wooden doors. A slope-shouldered creature with a glowing, cybernetic eye ripped through the barricades . . . then slunk away.
Carska took a deep breath and reached into the Veil. He floated several inches off his bench as the sound of metal-shod footfalls closed in on him.
The flat of a blade made of solid light was set on his shoulder. Drops of blood hissed and snapped as the sword extended past his chin and pointed to the center of the moving rings within the Shrine.
“You’ll get nothing from me,” Carska said.
“I’ll have what I need one way or another,” a dark voice said. “I will give you a choice. Where is the next locus? Tell me where it is, and it’ll be quick. Prolong the inevitable and I’ll give you to my Draug to gnaw on.”
“I will suffer anything you can imagine to protect the Veil,” Carska said. “That is my vow to this Shrine.”
“I’ve heard that from better men than you”—the blade turned to set the edge against his neck—“and you’d be surprised how many of them broke apart once their vows met the reality of pain . . . What are you trying to hide from me?”
The Shrine pulsed.
“Someone was here. Someone powerful. I can sense it in the Veil . . . Who?”
Carska put a hand perpendicular to his sternum in the ancient seal against fear and a crack broke through one of the pillars.
The sword lopped his head off with a quick swipe.
A lupine alien stomped into the Temple and kicked Carska’s head to one side. The Dark figure lowered his blade and flicked blood away. The crack in the pillar healed itself as low chant sounded through the Temple.
“Do we have it?” the Draug asked.
The dark figure kicked Carska’s corpse off its bier, then thrust his sword into the light swirling within the Shrine. Flecks of blood rose from the edge and melded into the swirl as ghostly figures and constellations manifested and disintegrated.
“The Breaking nears . . . just as was foretold. I have their next step.”
“And then?” The Draug’s lips pulled back, revealing metal-capped teeth.
“Vengeance.”
Chapter 1
“Fight!”
Jayce Artan ducked as a reptilian alien swung a meaty fist at his face. The blow grazed the back of his head, and the stench of ozone stung his nose. Jayce shifted his left foot to one side and hooked a punch into the scaly abdomen of his opponent.
A metal plate across his knuckles crackled with electricity and the Scales delivered enough force that his Gorga opponent would actually feel it. The other fighter hissed in pain and dropped an elbow toward Jayce’s skull.
Jayce bobbed to one side and a tiny claw on the Gorga’s elbow sliced his shoulder.
The crowd surrounding the fighting pit howled—either in protest or joy at the sight of blood flowing down Jayce’s arm. Jayce ducked and pounded a blow into the Gorga’s knee. The Scales popped and the alien swiped a backhanded strike at Jayce. He covered up and the blow hit across both his forearms. His skin went numb as similar devices on the other fighter’s hand reduced the force of the blow.
Without the Scales, the Gorga would have broken both Jayce’s arms with ease. Jayce took a shot to the ribs and retreated back.
The Gorga stood head and shoulders over Jayce and had enough reach to keep Jayce well out of range to take much damage, but no one ever accused the Gorga of fighting smart. It growled at him through clenched teeth. A heavy wire was wound around its snout, as Gorgas had a tendency to bite when aggravated.
Jayce shot beneath a jab and landed tight punches against the Gorga’s dark green abdomen and the wide muscles of its back. The Gorga stepped on Jayce’s foot and shoved him back. Jayce grabbed a neck frill. The Gorga caught Jayce by the arm and stopped him from falling back and taking the frill off.
Ding ding ding.
The reptilian stepped off Jayce’s foot and returned to his corner, where a pack of Simira went to work on their fighter. The three wore bright orange jumpsuits over black fur that stuck out from the sleeves and pant cuffs. Scrunch-faced, they warbled and squeaked at each other as they scrubbed bruised flesh with sponges.
Jayce didn’t turn his back on the Gorga and went to his corner.
“You’re doing great!” The wide, green head of his corner man bobbed up and down as he hopped around to examine Jayce’s wounds.
“Little early in the fight for him to be this dirty, Kay,” Jayce said as a cold spray was applied to the cut on his shoulder. He looked up at the crowd. Sure enough, a Syndicate boss was in the bottom row. He looked at Jayce, then handed off a small pack to a bookie making the rounds through the stands.
“Crowd loves the blood,” the amphibian said. “You went for his frills. You know how important those are to their mating rituals?”
“Not particularly.” Jayce opened his mouth and got a squirt of water. He swished it around and spat into a rusty bucket.
The Gorga’s eyes were laser focused on Jayce. The break had gone on longer than usual, but taking bets was more important than pacing the fight.
“Very important. He’s pissed, can you tell?” Kay barely stood up to Jayce’s sternum. Jayce swiped a thin sheen of slime off his friend’s head and rubbed it against his face and neck.
“So am I.” Jayce stepped out of his corner and punched his knuckles together. The move was technically illegal as it could offset the force equalizers built into the Scales. They could be set to increase or decrease the impact of a blow, and tampering with them could have disastrous results for either fighter.
Jayce shook his hands down, indicating he wanted them weaker. The contempt of the gesture enraged the Gorga and it grabbed one of the Simira and threw him into the wall of the fighting pit.
The little alien squealed a number of anatomically impossible insults and the crowd went wild.
Ding ding ding.
The Gorga leapt forward, leading with its jaws that were still wired shut.
Jayce arced a downward blow and smashed the Gorga in one eye. Its momentum kept it going and its shoulder slammed into Jayce. Jayce punched it
in the ear hole and mashed the Scale against it. The power amplifiers went into a feedback loop, striking the Gorga several times like a drum roll.
The alien threw Jayce across the ring. Jayce landed hard on his already injured shoulder and looked up just in time to eat Scales. The taste of metal encrusted with the sweat and blood of a dozen different species was one of the worst things about these bouts.
Along with the pain of getting hit.
The Gorga slapped a palm against Jayce’s upper chest and lifted him up and flung him into his corner. The reptilian launched a flurry of punches that buffeted Jayce from side to side. Jayce’s knees buckled and he slid down the corner, catching one arm on the middle rope. The Gorga backed away, beating its chest in victory. The crowd was not pleased and pointed back at Jayce and tossed plastic cups and kelp-leaf wraps at him.
Jayce shook cobwebs away and got back to his feet.
He banged his knuckles together again and the crowd went wild.
The Gorga turned around and took a hook from Jayce, who had to jump into the air to land it. The other fighter tried to clench with Jayce, but he slipped back and landed a sharp punch to the elbow claw that had cut him, breaking the bone into pieces.
The Gorga raised both hands and hammered them at Jayce. Jayce jumped back and lost his balance. The alien looked at him with a predator’s glee and sprang forward.
Jayce didn’t see the rising punch that took him on the cheek, but he saw the flash of light from the impact and felt his head wrench back. He had a brief sensation of falling and the world went to dusk and a dull buzz filled his ears.
There was a pinch at his neck and he sucked in air. He sat beside the ring, but he didn’t remember how he got there.
Kay argued with the fight doctor, who feigned listening as he held his palm out. Kay finally slapped two coins in the man’s hand and he went away.
Jayce tried to speak, but his jaw had swollen up.
“You back?” Kay put spindly arms on his hips.
“Did I beat ’im?” Jayce looked to one side, but stopped at a sharp pain in his neck.
“Your face didn’t break any of the bones in his hand, if that’s what you were after.” Kay lifted a swollen eyebrow and clicked his tongue. “You got to stop doing these mismatched fights, Jayce. Feral Gorga eat humans, did you know that? They love it when the prey fights back.”
“Always the main event. Pays better, don’t it?” Jayce waved to the purser at the locker room entrance who was counting out stacks of coins.
“To win!” Kay’s eyes bulged slightly in anger. “Every time I have to buy a shot of Cerebro to fix your concussions it eats into your margins. You know how much you pay me to be in your corner?”
“I’m paying you?” Jayce squinted at him.
“Exactly, you don’t pay me at all. Except I keep getting hired for other work because you insist we’re always a team on the waters,” Kay said.
“’Cause you corner for me . . . for free.” Jayce rubbed a split lip. “What’re friends for?”
“Here.” The purser put two rolls of coins in Jayce’s hand. “Dock boss said you had a good fight. Covered your Cerebro. No vig attached.”
Jayce looked up at the Syndicate capo in the front row. The underboss blew smoke from a pipe and raised a drink.
He hesitated, staring at the extra roll of coins in the purser’s hand.
“No vig, just take the money,” Kay hissed. “You trying to piss him off when he’s tipping you?”
“No, I can’t insult the Syndicate like that.” Jayce took his winnings, then tapped his palm to his chest twice to signal thanks to the capo.
“Here’s yours.” The purser tossed a single, smaller roll at Kay.
“Wait a minute.” Jayce took a sip of water. “Did you bet against me?”
“No! No . . . no. I bet you’d last at least one round.” Kay slipped the coins into his clothes.
“You’re . . . welcome?” Jayce stood up. Every step out of the fighting pit showed him where new pain was waiting for him.
“Would’ve been a lot more if you made it to three!” Kay stomped his webbed feet like a toddler. “We need to get to the docks and hire on for the eel run. This barely covers rent.” ...
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