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<< Back to Ch. 59 --- Continue to Epilogue >>

60: The King

"We have done as you have said, Master." The imp bowed low before his superior, the head of all demon-kind. "One more of the Enemy's servants will fall today."

"Most excellent, fallen one." The Master replied. "Just make sure they do not live out the night. It is vital that they no do not interfere in the coming conflict."

"Of course, your Eminence. We have chosen only the best to complete this task."

The Master huffed, then said ominously, "I should hope so. A Talan is not easy to kill."


Just as he had done every day since leaving Gamilon, Masterson woke from his scheduled sleep to find that nothing had really changed out here in the middle of nowhere. Space was still just as cold and still as ever.

Every time he woke he noticed the eerie silence. Planet-side there was always the sound of something living, insects, people, plants. Here… there was only the silence of the void and the light of a hundred thousand stars, made so much more bearable by Theron and his songs.

"Sir?" the voice of his communications officer echoed through the room.

"Yes." Masterson answered.

"A message from Iscandar, Captain." The officer said.

"Thank you, I'll take it here." Masterson replied, quickly throwing on something presentable and accepting the incoming call. "Starsha. What brings you here?" he asked, not trying to hide the smile that came to his face every time he spoke with the woman.

The Iscandari sighed, "I don't know…" she said, "Something – something is about to happen, Masterson… something dreadful."

Masterson's face fell and a sudden urgency washed over him, "Are you in danger?"

"No –" Starsha inhaled sharply, "It isn't me, my friend… it is you…"

Masterson's eyes widened, "I don't understand," he replied, "We're alone out here, no one can board without us knowing, and even if they could, I suspect Theron would know."

Starsha nodded, "He would. But it is not physical danger of which I speak… I fear spiritual discouragement is to come..."

"Surely it would have already come," Masterson replied, "Seclusion is a potent catalyst, Starsha. You understand, I'm sure."

"Of course I do." She said softly, "Which is why I sent Theron to you."

"And he has been invaluable – especially with the application of my mother's translation matrix."

"Adrianna informed me that you had requested it months ago. Has it been working well enough for you?"

"For the most part, yes." He said, "Though there are still words it cannot translate well – probably idioms or proper nouns."

"As expected," Starsha nodded, "I only hope…" her voice trailed off and her eyes began to shine with unshed tears.

"It will serve its purpose, Starsha. The Eratites will understand your gift to them. Even if your words do not translate perfectly, they will understand your intent."

"But what if they can't read the plans? What if –"

Masterson stopped her, "They will be fine… Now, I thought we were talking about my troubles."

Starsha smiled just the slightest bit, "Yes, yes, I suppose. I simply wanted to warn you that something is coming – something that you may not be prepared for."

Masterson nodded, "I will be careful, my friend. But you must do the same. There are challenges unique to living on a deserted world. At least I have my fellow crewmen."

Starsha nodded, "Thank you for your concern, Masterson, but I have Adrianna, Silesia and Bahn. I do not want for company."

"Good." Masterson nodded, "Your task is by far the more difficult one."

Starsha was silent at this.

"Is something wrong?" Masterson finally asked after the silence had thickened into something unbearable.

Starsha looked away and appeared as though she wanted to say something else. After a moment she looked back at Masterson, tears running down her cheeks, "He… he still does not understand…"

Masterson let out a heavy sigh knowing immediately to whom she alluded, "No… he does not... Desslok has never been one to admit that he needs help of any sort. I should know."

"But why does he seek out Erats? Why her people? Why not some other world with no population? Surely I could provide him with the technology to reform another world to suit his people's needs."

"Again, that would be seeking help. He will not do that." Masterson said sadly, then ventured "And… there may be another complicating factor…"

"What?" Starsha's eyes widened as she heard a hint of anxiety in Talan's voice.

"I fear that he is being manipulated."


The palace on Gamilon was eerily quiet. The palace guard roamed their usual route, though their numbers had dwindled since the replacement of the men.

Miezela Celestella had chosen the replacements herself, just as the Leader had ordered her, but tonight, those choices were paying off, just as she had anticipated.

The halls were dark, just as they were every night now that Rapha'owr had become Belarus and sunk beneath the surface of Gamilon. Gone was the starlight that graced the palace halls; gone was the familiar light of the double moons – except on the rare occasion that the satellites passed right above Belarus's subterranean den.

There was only one sight that still constantly remained – the familiar sight of Iscandar. Though she was not always physically visible, a real-time video feed of the planet had been displayed in the throne room – and at select other locations throughout the palace – in its proper orbital location, at the Leader's behest.

Celestella had grudgingly obeyed when he had ordered that particular adjustment to the building. She hated having any more reminders of that Iscandari woman than there already were. As it was the Leader wouldn't stop talking about her. Every day he at least mentioned Starsha. Sometimes he even called the woman, though the conversations were short and mostly one-sided.

But the palace was about to change again and Celestella was tremendously happy about this particular change. Someone would be leaving them tonight, someone who had been a great deal of trouble over the past many years.

Celestella walked confidently down the hallway, heading to her destination to make her stunning announcement.

She was close now, a mere several dozen feet away from her goal.

She was breathing harder the closer she came to the door. It seemed to loom above her and a sense of dread came over the woman. She started to feel sick and a radiant glow shone around the door, reaching out with glowing fingers to grab her. But just when she thought the light would smother her, it vanished, the grasping hands dissolving into nothing in one sudden poof. Then the dread that had sought to turn her back disappeared.

She grinned, knowing that the way was now prepared for her.

Adjusting the holo-mask she now wore, she petitioned for entrance into the dwelling.


It was still several hours before dawn when Admiral Talan awoke from sleep to the pinging sound that indicated someone wanted to enter his home.

He checked to see who was at the door and was puzzled at the face he saw.

A Gamilon woman, tall and thin with dark brown hair and eyes stood patiently outside.

"Isn't that one of the physicians Desslok asked to be a part of the council?" Naomi's drowsy voice interrupted her husband's thoughts.

Raymond nodded, "So why is she here at this time of night?"

With that question he got up and changed clothes as quickly as he could. His wife, moved by the same sense of urgency that he felt, did the same.

As one they left the bedroom and started toward the door to the living quarters.


"Yeeeessss. Yeeeessssss." The imp hissed happily, "Just a bit farther you fool." It cackled. "Tonight is the last night you will ever meddle in our plans again. Let your precious Lord take you. At least you will not be here to unseat us from this place."

Suddenly the couple stopped and the man motioned for his wife to stay hidden a ways back from the door.

The imp guffawed at this, "Yes! Yes, leave any hope of protection behind you, troublesome one! If you only knew what waits in the darkness for you." It grinned with unabashed glee.

The man continued cautiously towards the door, his hand beginning to hover close to the weapon he always kept close by.

"Oh yes, you sense it, don't you." The imp's hiss went unheard by the man, "You know something's out there, ready to pounce. You just don't know why."

The man finally stopped in front of the door and spoke to the person on the other side. Whatever they said seemed to make the man relax just the slightest and he opened the door to grant the woman entrance.

At this the imp collapsed in raucous laughter.


"You've come with urgent news, you say?" Raymond asked the council woman.

"Quite." She said curtly, glancing back at the door periodically until it closed behind her. "It is news you will be eager to hear, Admiral. I'm quite sure."

"It was so urgent that it couldn't have waited until morning?"

"Yes."

"It must have been quite disturbing – or so worthy of rejoicing that it could not be contained. Which is it, council woman?" Raymond asked, starting to feel the sense of urgency growing.

"Both. It simply depends on your viewpoint." The woman said, smiling disturbingly.

"What… is the news then?" Raymond ventured, letting his hand inch towards his weapon once again.

The council woman suddenly whipped out a gun of her own and pointed it at the Admiral's chest. "The news is this, Admiral Raymond Talan, enemy of the Master and meddler in his business. Before the night is done, your corpse will be the subject of much rejoicing in the Master's great hall!"

Raymond reached for his weapon, but it was gone, his eyes darted around the room, looking futilely for it. Then, he found it, at the foot of the door.

"Adonai…" was all he managed to pray before something streaked between Raymond and the council woman just a fraction of a second before she fired.


"Noooooo! Noooo!" the imp shrieked in agony, as a body fell to the floor, but it was not the body of Raymond Talan.

The troublesome man looked stunned for an instant before he leapt over the body and attacked his assailant, who was more stunned than he was.

The man wrestled the gun away from her and for a moment the imp thought the man would kill the intruder, so fierce was the look in his eyes, but just when the man could have choked off her life's air, he stopped.

The imp realized that the man had found the power source for the holo-mask. He was just about to short it out when the woman suddenly twisted away and sprinted out of the man's home, a look of utter terror on her face.

The man stared after her, but did not follow, instead falling to his knees beside the one who had saved him.

The imp suddenly felt as though he had been dropped into a star. His body was burning, seared from the inside out. Brilliance surrounded him and he shrieked as he melted back into the darkness from whence he'd come, back to Abaddon's fiery lair.


"Naomi…" Raymond whispered to his wife as he embraced her, not even trying to stop his tears. He looked down at the hideous charring on her chest and abdomen. By all rights she shouldn't even still be alive. A blast at that close of a range should have killed her instantly. "I told you to stay hidden…" he barely managed to say.

"I know…" Naomi smiled weakly, looking up at the man she had been bound to for so many long, blessed years, "But you didn't say anything about letting you die."

"No, I didn't…" he choked as he notified an emergency medical team that they were needed right now. "But… I – I don't want to go through what is to come without you at my side."

"I know, dear Raymond…" she tried to reach up to touch his face, but her strength failed her, "But this time –" she coughed, "this time you must. The darkness that is now upon us must not win. Abaddon has seen many victories in this war already… Adonai knows what is to come… He is here already, now, as we speak." Her eyes grew strange and she seemed to be looking over her husband's shoulder. "The malakim guard you, Raymond, as they guard our son. You need not fear the future. There is something coming… I cannot see it clearly… But…" her voice trailed off and the concern on her face was replaced with a look of joy as she slipped out of this world and into the next, her lifeless body lying limply in her weeping husband's arms.


Masterson stared blankly at his father's face, the shock of the news nearly crushing his spirit as Starsha's words rang clearly in his mind.

"She gave herself for me, Masterson…" Raymond went on, "And I don't even know who killed her… or why."

"It… was… meant for you… then…" Masterson managed, "They came… for you…"

"They did." Raymond nodded, "But the reason is infinitely more important than the identity of the one who did this."

"They just… shot her and ran…?" Masterson asked, still not processing everything the weight that had just been dropped on his heart. His mother… dead? How was it possible? After losing so many others… now his own family?

"Adonai… no…" his heart begged for it all to be a lie, but the harder he wished, the more he realized that this was the hard, cold truth.

His father continued speaking, but Masterson heard none of it, he stared into his father's hologram, his eyes unfocused.

"Help me, Adonai; help me now to realize Your goodness, Your grace – to see it through this nightmare that we are now in the very midst of. Death has come to many of Thine own these past many years…" here he paused, then, as though dawn had risen in his soul, he continued, "But death has lost its eternal sting forever. You have destroyed its power over Thine own… May she rest with Thee until the time appointed… when we all will meet again…"

"Masterson?" Raymond's voice finally broke through the haze surrounding his son's mind. "Masterson… are you alright?"

The young captain paused, looking away from his father and letting the faces of all of the fallen appear in his mind: so many of the rebels, numerous rakabim, Eliora, young Deror, and now his mother… Naomi Talan.

Each face brought back memories of the times he had shared with every one of them. Each face gave him a sense of something… a piece of a picture he hadn't seen before, and now that his mother's face was among those of his friends, he understood what he hadn't before.

Masterson looked up at his father and with tears in his eyes and a small smile on his lips he replied, "I am…"


"Admiral Talan said that the assailant came in disguise. There is no way to know who really came to the Talan's home last night, Sire." Celestella said, feeling a good deal of discomfort in Desslok's presence, not because of the Leader himself, but because of the agitation she felt in the air – an irritation extending into the spiritual realm.

The Master was not happy with the outcome of last night's events. Of course, neither was she, but her irritation didn't hold a candle to the Master's, and that was what frightened her.

"Perhaps we do not know their identity now, but we will." The Leader growled at her, the rage in his eyes nearly paralyzing her, but if she thought that was horrifying, his next words scared her even more, "I have a way to find out who did it."

Celestella felt the blood drain from her face and she looked down at the floor to hide her paler-than-usual skin. "How will you accomplish that, Leader?" she dared.

"That is for me to know, Celestella, not you." Desslok snapped back at her, making the woman wince.

"Yes… Leader…" she replied, his words still stinging.

"Go." He ordered, turning away from her and pointing a commanding finger toward the door.

Celestella slinked out, feeling more afraid than ever that Desslok would discover the truth and that her game would be up sooner, rather than later.


Silence reigned in the throne room now, a silence burning with rage. He had barely been able to control it in Celestella's presence. Now she was gone and his anger would wait no longer.

"Mintra'el, lock every entrance to this room." He seethed.

The doors gave a collective click, echoing through the room with a finality that seemed to ring in Desslok's ears forever.

Words could not express the rage he now felt – rage at the ones who had murdered his comrades… his friends… those he had once counted as the nearest thing he had to family… And then he himself had sentenced the one man who had truly been his brother, even though they shared not one ounce of blood, to the silence of space. Masterson Talan was gone from his life, perhaps never to return. The dark powers that now surrounded him forbad him to summon Masterson.

Desslok's fist clenched involuntarily.

And now some unknown force had taken another Talan from him… His own family was either dead or unaccounted for; his second family was now dead or beyond his reach, save for one.

He felt the nails of his right hand dig into his palm.

In a sudden expression of his anger he unballed his fist and tore the glove from his left hand. The fabric ripped with a sickening sound and the remains of the thing fell to the cold floor. With the ripping of the garment came the releasing of his anger in a roar that filled the entire room with its hopelessness.

The heart-wrenching sound rose in intensity until it peeked in a torrent of noise that made the world seem to shake around him. Then it dwindled into silence as the Leader sank to his knees, his face in his hands.

The quiet thickened into something nearly unbearable and when it was at its heaviest it was broken by the sound of a single, heavy breath as Desslok rose to his feet. Then the echo of footsteps sounded as he walked over to a long-locked door, a door that had once been frequented by his father.

Desslok unlocked the portal and stepped through it.

There was dust everywhere, but that would soon be remedied. He surveyed the room searching for the one thing he sought.

Finally, he found it.

He approached the storage cabinet and reached out to open it, hesitating for just a moment before grabbing the handle and swinging the door wide open.

He didn't even look at the writing on the bottle he grabbed, knowing that they would all be of a similar vintage, he took the first one he found along with one of the distinctive glasses that had been his father's constant companion for so many years after his mother's murder.

Taking a seat at the table his predecessor had sequestered away in this sanctum, he poured first one glass of the alcoholic beverage, then another, and another, and another, pouring until finally, he felt absolutely nothing.


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