Chapter 18: Lies of the Chosen


    "Research Log, Day 1


    “It’s been almost a year and something still feels off about why my project was shut down. I’ve been in hell since then just waiting to be caught continuing the work on my own.


    "On a better note, today I finished the first step of the project. I believe that I have created a being that will become as intelligent and capable as any Diordna. I had to kill the host ape, although I was growing fond of the creature. But I can’t risk anyone finding out and destroying this last hope to finish my work. This log and the creation itself will be the only evidences until I decide to announce what I’ve made. How many engineers get even a glimpse of their ultimate work made flesh? I am lucky to have gotten this far even if it doesn''t turn out as intelligent as I hope. Losing everything was hell, and the last year waiting to see if this final piece of my old life would survive was hell.


    But today I’m holding a piece of heaven born from the flames of my hell."


    The human’s head snapped back and blood sprayed from the eyesocket. The body slumped in Mahkram’s claw and Maharba reached forward and felt the neck for a pulse.


    Mada was dead.


    Certain he wouldn’t need it anymore, Maharba holstered his cnido and wiped the blood from his face. He hadn’t killed a human in generations, but somehow the sight of Mada’s slack face, eye destroyed, blood dripping from the socket, still managed to disturb him.


    “Did you have to do that down here?” Mahkram complained. “He already threw up all over.”


    “I have someone I need to contact about this,” Maharba said, and he turned to leave.


    “Don’t just walk out of here,” Mahkram said, anger clear in her voice. “You can’t just—“


    “I’ll be right back,” Maharba said, interrupting. “We can discuss this once I’ve spoken with my agent.”


    “Fine,” Mahkram said. “But if you don’t come back I’ll just keep signaling you until you do.”


    Maharba rolled his eyes as he exited hell and closed the door behind him to quiet any of the sounds it made, then he walked down the passageway a short way and placed his finger on the foot of his calling bird.


    **********


    When Iakedrom awoke he tried to sit up, but the pain in his side forced him to stay on his back. He was in a bed in what he expected was a hospital. His side and the stump of his arm were both bandaged tightly. Having a prosthetic removed so violently would have left an oily, bloody mess where animal and diordna met because of the way the two bonded. That bond made it possible for him to control and feel sensations with the arm, which he was normally grateful for. Except when it was violently torn from his body.


    "How''re you feeling Iak?" Fosia asked, and he turned his head to look at her.


    She’d found him. Oh Dytie, she’d found him in time.


    "Like I’ve been shot," Iakedrom said, voice weak.


    "That''s good," Fosia said, mouth turning upward in a smile.


    "Why is that good?"


    She grinned. "It means you weren’t shot in the head."


    Iakedrom sighed but smiled with her despite the pain. "How bad is it?"


    “I arrived in time to save your life," She said. "Only one of the shots was still lodged in your side and the other two were mostly surface wounds. You''re lucky."


    "I guess I am." Iakedrom lifted his head, trying to get a look at his wounds, but even that hurt. "Did they find Mada?"


    Fosia shook her head. "We''ve had search teams in the area but there are so many places to hide. We may have to just wait him out."


    “There are… things we need to discuss,” Iakedrom said, “About Mada and—“


    The calling bird on Fosia’s shoulder stiffened, then spoke. “Iakedrom.”


    Fosia placed her hand on the bird’s foot, and Iakedrom spoke. “Yes?”


    “This is Maharba. I’m glad to hear you’re alive.”


    “As am I,” Iakedrom said, then he cringed at the informality of the quip. “I’m sorry I failed you my Drol.”


    “There’s no need to worry,” Maharaja said. “I’ve taken care of it. That’s why I wanted to speak with you. I wanted to tell you that you can go back to looking for the Craftsman.”


    “What do you mean?” Iakedrom asked, concerned for some reason.


    “I mean Mada is dead,” Maharba said. “I killed him myself.”


    Something seemed odd to Iakedrom, but in his state, he couldn’t identify what. He looked to Fosia questioningly, but she just shrugged. “I’m sorry you had to do that personally.”


    “There’s no need to worry,” Maharba said. “You’ve done your job, now you just need to recover and get back to what you were doing before. You didn’t happen to see who attacked you, did you?”


    Iakedrom hesitated. Something in the Drol’s tone seemed off. It was the feeling he got in an interrogation when someone was lying or manipulating, the one he hadn’t felt when speaking with Ekivia. He thought his instincts were off, but now that he knew what Mada was he wasn’t so sure anymore.


    Maharba wanted to know if Iakedrom knew what Mada was, and Iakedrom didn’t think he would react well to the truth. “I didn’t get a good look at him. I’m guessing you did though. Was I right? Was he a spy for the Redaeli?”


    “Traitor,” Maharba said. “He was an old acquaintance of Ekivia’s from when she was younger. A half skin, so he could have been either Drolite or Redaeli. It’s times like this that make us distrust half skins so much.”


    Maharba was lying. Mada was no half skin. Besides that, Iakedrom had dug deep into her personal history and he’d never come across a half skin friend anywhere in her past. And half skins were too rare and mistrusted to go unnoticed for so long. “Very true, my Drol. I’m glad to hear it’s over.”


    “Good work today,” Maharba said. “Now get some rest.”


    “Thank you, I will,” Iakedrom said, and he lifted his finger from the bird’s foot.


    Maharba had lied to him, repeatedly. Iakedrom felt more and more disturbed as he thought back on their recent conversations. What else had he lied about?


    “Fosia?” Iakedrom called, though not very loudly because he couldn’t.


    She came into the room. “Sorry I was listening, but I didn’t want to be too far if you needed anything.”


    “It’s alright,” Iakedrom said. “Do you remember the conversation we had just before Yelis escaped?”


    Fosia nodded, looking uncomfortable.


    “The Drol just lied to me,” Iakedrom said. “I saw Mada, and it wasn’t a half skin.”


    “You bated the Drol,” Fosia said, then she smiled a little. “I’m impressed you had the guts, considering you spilled some of them earlier.”


    Iakedrom nodded. “That’s not all. I think he might do anything to hide Mada’s identity.”


    “What do you mean?” Fosia asked.


    “Mada is an animal,” Iakedrom said. “An AI. Ekivia’s last project wasn’t a failure as we were told.”


    “That’s… news,” Fosia said. “How smart is it?”


    “I’m not sure,” Iakedrom said. “We need to ask her that I think. Can you call her for us?”


    Fosia nodded and pressed the foot of the calling bird, speaking a code into it that Iakedrom recognized as one belonging to an officer they left behind to keep an eye on Ekivia.


    A moment later he answered. “Yes?”


    “This is Fosia. We need to speak to Ekivia, privately.”


    “Understood,” The officer said through the bird. There was silence for a moment, then he spoke again. “I’m leaving the room. Go ahead and talk.”


    They waited briefly so he could be out of the room, then Iakedrom spoke. “Hello Ekivia.”


    “Iakedrom.” Even through the bird he could hear the acid in her voice. He didn’t blame her for that, especially now that he had more information. “What do you want?”


    “I know what Mada is.”


    The statement was met with a long bloated silence, but Iakedrom was patient. She’d be thinking through how he’d said it. She was smart enough to put together that he really did know what Mada was, or he would have said he know who Mada is.


    "Congratulations," Ekivia said.


    "How intelligent is it?"


    She hesitated before responding. “Why do you want to know?”


    “The way I see it, if he’s as intelligent as you or I that would be a great boon to the Drol,” Iakedrom said, deciding to tell her a more complete truth. “And it seems that despite that he doesn’t want anyone to know about Mada. He ordered me to kill it without hesitation, and he tried to hide what it was from me. And I don’t like being lied to. So, how intelligent?”


    “Intelligent enough that you shouldn’t refer to him as an it,” Ekivia said, tone aggressive.


    Iakedrom was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that kind of response. “Alright then. That still doesn’t tell me how intelligent it… sorry, he is. Can you be a little clearer?”


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    “I intended him to be as smart as any diordna,” Ekivia said. “And I believe I accomplished that goal. He is our equal.”


    “That’s impressive,” Iakedrom said. “Are the notes in that bird of yours all about him?”


    “Yes,” Ekivia said quietly.


    “I see,” Iakedrom said. “Thank you for telling me this.”


    “Did I have a choice?” Ekivia asked.


    “Believe it or not, you did,” Iakedrom said. “It seems you’ve been more honest with me than even the Drol, and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”


    “I…” Ekivia stuttered. “What?”


    “I’m sorry,” Iakedrom said. “Now get some rest and recover. I hope to talk to you later.”


    Fosia lifted her finger from the bird. “This all has quite a few implications, and it opens up a whole new line of questions.”


    “No kidding,” Iakedrom said.


    “So what do you want to do about it?”


    “I’m not sure there’s much we can do immediately,” Iakedrom said. “First, we need to try and repair our rapor with Ekivia. She’ll have some of the answers we’re looking for. Then, once I recover, we need to go find out what Mada was looking for. I believe that, more than anything else, will show us the truth.”


    **********


    Maharba finished speaking with Iakedrom and re-entered the recycling plant. He was met with the slight smell of vomit and the sight of the dead human layer out on the steel grate platform, his blood dripping through the holes and down to the floor deep below. Even after all these generations there was something disturbing to him about human death.


    “Sorry about that,” Maharba said. “I just had to make sure no one else saw him above ground.”


    “Sure,” Mahkram said, obviously displeased, her voice filling the room. “I know we can’t have humans running around. Any idea how he found me?”


    “Not in detail, no,” Maharba said, sighing. “Apparently someone’s skin tattooed his body.”


    “I saw that,” Mahkram said. “They’re written in our language.”


    “I know,” Maharba said. “But I don’t know who translated it for them. Selraef didn’t know much about him at all, so I don’t think she’ll be any help.”


    “Is she ever?” Mahkram asked, and Maharba could hear the wry smile in her voice even though he couldn’t see it.


    He wanted to smile at the quip, but his mind was too preoccupied to feel mirth at the moment. “I have to go. I don’t expect anyone else to visit you, but if they do just kill them next time.”


    “Yeah yeah,” Mahkram said, and Maharba turned to leave. “Aren’t you going to clean this mess up?”


    Maharba looked back at the dead human. “Flesh burns as well as metal. You take care of it.”


    “It’s not that simple,” Mahkram said. “I already have to deal with impurities without adding extra like this. It’s difficult enough without having to deal with animal guts in the mix.”


    “Fine,” Maharba said, impatient. He knew she wasn’t lying even though he didn’t understand how any of this really worked. But he still felt put out by the demand. “I’ll take care of the body. But anyone else who comes down here is yours to deal with. They’ll be diordna so you shouldn’t have any reason to complain.”


    “Yes Drol,” Mahkram said sarcastically, all mirth gone from her tone.


    Maharba stepped forward and lifted the bleeding corpse from the platform, then left Mahkram to her solitude beneath the ground. He grumbled to himself as he climbed back up the tunnel, not because the corpse was heavy or anything, just because he was annoyed at the whole situation. None of this should have ever happened. It was as much Selraef’s and Ardnax’s fault, but he was thee one stuck dealing with the fallout.


    When he reached the top of the tunnel he all but threw Mada up into the stone room, then climbed up after and flicked the trigger branch jutting from the side of the opening. As the vines closed he looked at Mada’s body, trying to figure out the best way to get it through the opening in the stone. The vines closed, and the bioluminescence faded, plunging him into darkness. He’d been here often enough that it wouldn’t be a problem. He stooped to pick Mada up.


    Something scraped against the stone outside, drawing his attention. He listened intently, trying to decide if it was someone coming through the crack or simply passing outside. The sound seemed to draw closer. So it was coming in through the crack. He backed away from the sound, stooped, and pointed his cnido in roughly the direction of the entrance.


    Then he waited, one hand prepared to fire the weapon, the other prepared to brush the branch that would light the room up so he could see his enemy.


    **********


    Nagemai stood beside a large boulder with a large crack in it. She’d returned to the boulder forest a couple hours after leaving Mada there to find search parties combing the area. She’d made her way to the center of the forest, as it didn’t look like the searchers had made it that far yet as they were starting from the outside and tightening their net inward.


    And after nearly half an hour of searching she’d found this boulder with a diordna high crack.


    It wasn’t the only cracked boulder she’d seen. It was just the only one around here that looked like it could fit a diordna. It seemed like the best hiding spot she’d found, depending on how deeply it ran into the rock, and she hoped Mada had found it as well.


    She listened intently at the crack for a moment but heard only the night breeze brushing through the boulders.


    She held her spear in one hand and drew her cnido with the other, then turned sideways and sidled into the crack cnido first. Her clothing rasped against the rock as she moved deeper into darkness. It didn’t take long before she could see nothing ahead of her, and only faintly behind. Suddenly the crack widened and she no longer felt stone pressing in around her. She’d stepped into some sort of cavity in the rock, though she couldn’t see anything.


    “Mada?” She whispered into the darkness.


    The crack of a cnido assaulted her ears, nearly deafening in the small space. She heard the bonelette shatter against stone behind her and felt the bits of bone pepper the back of her neck. Then vines began to light up with bioluminescence, revealing the small room in the rock. There were two figures crouched against the wall opposite her. One was Drol Maharba, hands holding a cnido forward, recognizable by the mark of Dytie on his chest which was exposed by his open fronted shirt and by the reflective sheen of his unnaturally rust free iron skin.


    The other was Mada, dead, one eye a gory empty socket, oozing blood like red tears of anger.


    Nagemai’s eyes instantly filled with sorrowful rage that matched the dark red of Mada’s tears, and she turned her focus to the one who had killed him.


    Maharba leaped forward and kicked upward, striking her cnido hand to the side. She spun, following her arm and returning his kick with one of her own. Her kick was more accurate, more recently practiced, and she caught just his cnido, breaking it. As she finished her spin she thrust her spear forward.


    Maharba caught her spear in a tight grip before she could get a good thrust, and he yanked, drawing her deeper into the room. The floor was uneven and it flexed slightly beneath her feet, telling her that there was something beneath it, but hundreds of years of combat experience kept her on her feet and gripping the spear. She tried using her momentum to pull him off balance or to regain control of the weapon, but he held firm, digging his heels into the vine.


    They held the spear between them like a solid rope in a tug of war, each of them trying to twist and wrench the weapon away from the other. Nagemai widened her stance to get a more solid footing, kicking Mada’s body.


    Maharba was bigger than her, but he wasn’t stronger.


    Nagemai pivoted, twisting the spear and forcing Maharba to sidestep so the tip wouldn’t point directly at his stomach. The movement put Maharba nearly directly in front of the narrow entrance.


    She fired her cnido at Maharaja’s chest.


    The projectile shattered against the smooth metal, bits of bone flying into the air around the point of impact, and a prick of oil leaked from a small crack in Dytie’s left thumb.


    Maharba twisted the spear and pushed forward, forcing Nagemai to shift her weight and spoiling the aim of the second shot. His motion pushed her back a step and she thumped against the wall of the room.


    “You must be Selraef’s problem general,” Maharba said, his eyes colorless and emotionless. “She can’t seem to kill you.”


    “She could,” Nagemai said, glaring at him through red eyes. “But the Redaeli wouldn’t appreciate her executing a war hero.”


    “Did you put yourself in that position on purpose?” Maharba asked. “So you could preach against Dytie and his Chosen?”


    Nagemai responded by firing her cnido again.


    The Drol, expecting the shot, began to pivot even as she was raising the weapon, so the bonelette glanced off his shoulder and shattered against the rock. His movement forced Nagemai to step toward Mada, her shuffling feet pushing his corpse across the vine floor, her stance narrowing slightly. Maharba pressed his attack, trying to take advantage of her weakened stance.


    But Nagemai was ready and stepped into the attack without releasing the spear. She lifted one foot, pivoted the other for power, and kicked the Drol in the chest, using both her own strength and the Drol’s momentum to do as much damage as she could against his unnaturally tough exterior.


    Maharba twisted slightly at the last moment, avoiding some of the force of the attack but not all of it. He stumbled from the blow and Nagemai twisted her spear hand and by extension Maharba. She forced him back, pressing him into the crack in the rock.


    Her body surged with rage and she pressed the spear forward, shoving him deeper into the crack. Metal scraped against rock as she tried to drive the spearpoint into his body, but he resisted with one hand while squeezing through the narrow gap. She followed him, not caring about the scraping against the back, arms, and chest. Her best hope was that the Drol would get caught.


    But he didn’t, and as he exited the crack Nagemai knew following him through had been a mistake.


    As soon as Maharba was free of the crack he yanked on the spear, drawing Nagemai out and off balance. She tried raising her cnido but Maharba shoved her to the side, releasing the spear, which threw Nagemai further off balance. Maharba kicked upward again, his foot striking her cnido hand again. This time the weapon cracked, blood spraying as its bone frame broke and tore through the skin.


    Nagemai dropped the useless weapon, shaking the blood from her hand, and leaped forward. She kneed the Drol in the chest, and she heard a satisfying crack as the small wound she’d given him earlier expanded. He stumbled backward, and she pressed her attack, slamming the heel of her palm upward under his chin. They fell together, Nagemai on top. As they fell she brought her spear around and drove it downward, aiming for the wound in his chest.


    The spear struck with a satisfying crack, its tip piercing his body, though not deeply.


    Maharba roared in pain and twisted, knocking the spear to the side with his forearm, sending the tip into the dirt. He gripped the shaft with one hand, then rolled toward it, snapping the weapon in two before Nagemai could pull it away. When Maharba reached his feet he felt the half of the spear with the stone tip.


    He lunged with his half of the weapon, oil oozing from the crack in his chest, but Nagemai was ready. She deftly deflected his thrust, then spun past him and struck the back of his head. He stumbled forward, though the strike didn’t leave any noticeable marks. He spun back around to face her, but she was already attacking.


    She thrust her broken spear forward, slamming the splintered end against his chest with all her strength. He cried out again, dropping his part of the spear as he fell to the dirt. She had him.


    He grunted in pain as she knelt on his stomach, half weapon held over her head.


    Suddenly she heard shouts from the searchers coming this way. They must have heard their fighting. She needed to finish this quickly.


    “Sesom says hi,” Nagemai said.


    Maharba’s eyes widened in satisfying shock. She plunged the spear downward, but he managed to catch her hands, stopping it from piercing him through the eye. She wanted to leave him in the same state he''d left Mada.


    “How do you know that name,” Maharba said through gritted teeth.


    Nagemai grinned wickedly at him. She wouldn’t answer his question but she wanted him to die knowing he had failed to stop Sesom. “You may have killed Mada, but he was only the first. There will be humans on this world again.”


    Nagemai leaned forward, driving the spearhead closer to Maharba’s eye. She heard the shouts nearby again, closer this time. She couldn’t let this fight go on any longer. She leaned forward, putting more of her weight down on the spear. She was smaller than Maharba, but her knee in his wound left him weak.


    She saw his surprise turn to fear as he struggled against her. They both knew he was going to die.


    A loud clapping sound broke the silence and pain exploded from Nagemai’s shoulder.


    She leaped off Maharba, away from the officer as they fired another bonelette at her. She cursed under her breath as she ran through the rock forest. If only she’d been a little faster, a little stronger, she would have killed Maharba. But now…


    Now she had to change her plans because of what she’d said to Maharba. She''d been carried away in her anger and overconfident in the moment, and those simple words risked everything toppling around her. Selraef was already suspicious of Nagemai because she’d disobeyed direct orders too often and lived far too long. Now She’d have to tread even more carefully. The Chosen now knew that she knew something that was supposed to be forgotten. They would never let that slide.


    She reassessed her situation. Mada and Ekivia were both dead, and Nevets was severely wounded. She wasn’t going to bring him back into this mess, especially not now. She’d have a hard enough time protecting herself, let alone him if it came to that. For his sake, she had to distance herself. She had copies of the marks from Mada’s body and she knew the general area indicated by at least one section. It was near the border between Drolian and Redaeli territory. She could position herself there as if on Selraef’s orders. No one would question her, at least not for a while, and that would give her a chance to scout the region for whatever was hidden there. And once she had those secrets she would declare war on the Chosen.


    They would send their armies against her, but she''d been preparing a plan for that possibility since she''d taken the mantle of Egeil. There were so many ways things could go wrong but she had contingencies she could implement. She had time to adjust her plans, time to send messages, time to prepare. But not much. What she’d said to Maharba put her on a time limit.


    It was time she started to tear her enemies down by exposing their secrets to all diordna kind. And she would rebuild the Egeilen nation from the ashes of war.