Dragonvein Book Five Read online

  Dragonvein

  Book Five

  By: Brian D. Anderson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Published Longfire Press, January 2017

  Copyright © 2017 Brian D. Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  Dedication

  This book is for my niece, Elle Anderson. Although yet to be born into the world, she has already filled our hearts with great joy. May her life be filled with magic and wonder.

  More Books By Brian D. Anderson

  The Godling Chronicles

  Book One: The Sword Of Truth

  Book Two: Of Gods And Elves

  Book Three: The Shadow Of Gods

  Book Four: A Trial Of Souls

  Book Five: Madness Of The Fallen

  Book Six: The Reborn King

  Books By Brian D. Anderson & Steven Savile

  Akiri: The Scepter Of Xarbaal

  You can find these and more at his Amazon Author’s Page - Click Here

  Prologue

  Ta’ Mar’s slender gray fingers ran lovingly over the window of the cylindrical prison containing his greatest creation – the culmination of a lifetime’s toil and frustration. It was a creation that no one had ever believed possible. And also one that he was now bitterly regretting.

  The encased black smoke swirled in response to his proximity, pressing against the sides in a futile attempt to touch its…father. Yes. That was what he had become. A father. The love he felt was the same as the feeling he had for his biological children. The desire to serve as a protector was almost unbearable, and a complete waste of time. It was out of his control.

  The hiss of the door opening sent a wave of anxiety racing through him. It was time.

  “Are you ready?” a voice said.

  He looked over his shoulder and nodded slowly. Vra’ Lak had been a good assistant throughout the years. And he could see in her eyes that she shared his pain.

  “Do you think we have a chance?” he asked.

  “I…I don’t know.”

  He knew at once that this meant they didn’t – that those sitting in judgment already had their minds set. He gazed once more at his creation before turning dejectedly to the door.

  The stark halls of the research facility felt particularly cold and empty as they made their way to the council chamber. The few people he passed regarded him with a mixture of anger and disgust. It was only to be expected, considering what had happened. They blamed him. And in truth, they had every reason to do so.

  Vra’ Lak paused in front of the door leading to the transport, but quickly realized that Ta’ Mar had no intention of riding. She hurried to catch him.

  “They can wait,” he said. “I need to be alone and clear my head for a while first.”

  She took his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know. In time, I suppose.”

  He wandered through the massive complex for close to an hour, dwelling on the situation. The only sounds he heard during this time were the constant droning buzz of the reactor deep beneath the foundation and the condemning whispers of those he passed.

  When he finally did arrive to face the council, he could not fail to notice that the door to the chamber was sitting ajar. Instantly, he felt regret for not having arrived on time. As usual, he had allowed his brooding nature to rob him of common sense. Though he might have felt it was a foregone conclusion that their verdict would go against him, there was always a small chance it would not. And keeping those with the authority to decide his fate waiting for so long would definitely not have aided his cause. As expected, the expression on every one of the ten council members was one of deep irritation.

  “It’s good of you to join us at last, Ta’ Mar,” said an elderly woman wearing a silver mourning scarf across her thin features. “I suppose you thought it amusing to keep us waiting.”

  After drawing in a deep, cleansing breath, he took a seat in front of a long table, behind which the assembly was sitting. He met the woman’s eyes. “Forgive me. I needed to clear my mind, so I decided to walk. I meant no disrespect.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “You are here now. That will have to do.”

  A younger man near the center stood up. He was tall – even for a southerner – and possessed a sturdy build. His deeply set yellow eyes practically glowed against the ashen gray of his flesh. Ta’ Mar tried to recall the man’s name….Ti’ Buul. Yes, that was it. Son of Ti’ Kuun, a former council leader. And like his father, he was known to be fair minded and kind, albeit unimaginative and often lost in the complexity of the experiments taking place within the thousands of separate laboratories housed here. At this moment, however, there was no kindness at all showing in his eyes.

  “You know why you are here,” he said. His deep baritone voice boomed intimidatingly as it reverberated off the bare walls. “And I think you also know how this matter must surely end.”

  Ta’ Mar paused before replying. His hands were trembling, and his heart was thudding loudly in his ears. “Please, I beg you to reconsider. It was not his fault. All blame rests with me. He should not suffer for my stupidity.”

  “So you have assigned this thing a gender?” remarked a woman on the right hand side of the table. “Why?”

  “I…I don’t know. He just seems male to me. But in truth, he’s neither.”

  “We did not come here to discuss your creation’s gender,” Ti’ Buul cut in firmly. “The fact of the matter is, what you did was ill-conceived and irresponsible. You defied a direct command to cease your research. As a result, thirty-nine people died the most brutal and painful of deaths.”

  The truth of his words stabbed at Ta’ Mar’s chest, causing a wave of nausea to rise. “Yes. No one knows that better than I. But I should be punished. Not he. He didn’t have any understanding of what he was doing.”

  “That is not what your colleagues say. They claim your creation is completely sociopathic in nature, without any concept whatsoever of the value of life. In fact, one has gone so far as to say that it is the very essence of evil. And I must admit, his statement is greatly supported by the facts.”

  This was too much for Ta’ Mar to bear. “Who said this?” he demanded. “How would they know? No one has worked with him but me.”

  “That is not so. Your colleagues examined it while you were being detained.”

  A sudden rage surged. “What? They had no right to –”

  “We gave them the right,” Ti’ Buul snapped back. “And need I remind you that the facility is controlled by this council in the people’s name? Not by you.”

  “I am fully aware of that.” It was taking an enormous effort for him not to shout. “But they are wrong. He can be taught. And in time, he will evolve.”

  “Yes. But into what? Can you tell us with absolute surety that it will not be a danger?”

  The question hung in the air for an uncomfortable few seconds.

  “I can’t,” Ta’ Mar admitted. “But with the proper guidance, I’m certain that he can be made… more like us.”

  “You choose strange words,” Ti’ Buul told him. “Do you think to shame us as bigots?”

  “That was not what I meant,” he replied. But in reality, it was. He took another long breath before continuing. “All I am saying is that he deserves a chance at life.”

  “It had its chance. And what did it do? It took control of a body and used it to murder innocent people. No. Murder isn’t the right word. Sl
aughter. That’s what it did. It slaughtered them.”

  “But he didn’t realize what he was doing,” Ta’ Mar shot back. “He’s not like us. He was unaware of the harm he was causing.”

  Ti’ Buul shook his head. “That is not what your colleagues tell us. They say that not only was it fully aware of what it had done, it actually enjoyed killing its victims.”

  “That’s a lie! They are just…” He stopped, trying hard to calm himself.

  “Jealous?” Ti’ Buul finished for him. “Is that it? You think they are saying this out of envy?”

  Yes, he wanted to shout back. They were envious of his achievement. Ta’ Mar had seen it in their eyes on numerous occasions. And even if a few of them had somehow managed to remain impartial, they were still totally wrong in their assessment. How could they possibly imagine that there was an actual intelligence of evil lurking within? What insane rubbish!

  All the same, the pictures he had been shown of the victims were still clear in his mind’s eye. They had been torn apart – some beyond recognition. The sheer brutality of the attacks had shocked the entire planet. No such crime had been committed in a thousand years. When he had discovered that his creation had escaped and had somehow managed to take control of someone’s body in order to commit these atrocities, his despair had been so deep that he had very nearly ended his own life.

  “I admit that I may be biased,” he said, eyes shut. “But he is my creation. More than that…he is life. Artificial life, yes. But life, nonetheless. And we do not kill, regardless of the crime.”

  “There seems little doubt that it does indeed possess a life of its own,” said Ti’ Buul. “On this point, all but one of your colleagues agree with you.” Who among them had disagreed? Ta’ Mar briefly wondered. “And though you are right to say that we do not sentence our people to death, this being is not one of us. Furthermore, the danger it poses cannot be ignored. The safety of our people must come first, and you admit yourself that you cannot–”

  “But I can ensure he will never escape again,” he jumped in quickly.

  A flash of anger appeared on Ti’ Buul’s face. “You will not interrupt me again.”

  Ta’ Mar lowered his head in silent apology.

  “You admit that you cannot know how it will evolve in the future. Anything is possible, and we are not willing to take such a risk. Nothing you can say will sway us. The decision is made. This thing...this creature...must be destroyed.”

  For several seconds, Ta’ Mar could barely breathe, let alone offer any kind of response. Finally, he cast his eyes over the entire assembly. Every single one of them was unyielding in their bearing. He had lost.

  “Then it should be I who carries out the sentence,” he declared, with all the remaining boldness he could muster.

  “I’m afraid that is not possible,” Ti’ Buul told him, though with a touch less steel in his tone than before. “You are to return to your home for the time being. It has yet to be decided whether you will be allowed to continue with any form of research.”

  This was a shattering blow. Without his research, he would be devoid of purpose, condemned to remain in his home and watch the years pass by with agonizing slowness while waiting for death. Either that or be forced to go off-world, leaving behind everything he knew and loved.

  He ran his eyes over the assembly again, this time more slowly. It was clear that they were resolute. In all likelihood, his life as a scientist was already over.

  “I understand,” he said, sullenly. He wanted to remain upright and depart with at least the appearance of pride. But he was grief stricken and utterly defeated. As he turned to leave, he spotted two young men waiting just beyond the door to escort him home.

  Normally he would have enjoyed the thirty-minute ride from the facility to his house – especially at this time of year. The flowers that grew so abundantly along the way painted a canvas of bright colors that made the rolling hills beyond the city appear fresh and new. It was a sight that invariably brought to mind the happy and uncomplicated times when he had been a student. Back then, he had been a mere assistant with only minor responsibilities. Even with his grand ideas and ambitions, he had always found time to appreciate the majesty of the world around him. Now, with hope shattered, the flowers didn’t seem anywhere near as bright, and the golden hills appeared coarse and ugly.

  The transport landed a few yards away from his house, and the door hissed upward. As it did, the driver looked over his shoulder with a smile on his face. “You know my niece.”

  The comment snapped Ta’ Mar out of his daze. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “My niece is one of your assistants. Ya’ Han.”

  He forced a smile in return. “Oh, yes. Of course. She is quite talented.”

  “She told me about what really happened. You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  While exiting the transport, his limbs felt heavy. “She’s a sweet girl. But I’m afraid it was, you know. It was all my fault.”

  He started quickly for his front door before the pilot could debate the matter any further. Once inside, he stripped off his lab clothes and donned a comfortable robe and a pair of slippers. Barely had he done this and settled into his favorite armchair near the rear window overlooking the calm blue waters of Lake Hul’ Ma’ Dario when he heard the soft chime of the doorbell.

  He looked to the door, debating whether to answer. The chime rang again, this time more insistently. It was probably one of his assistants come to offer condolences, he surmised. His small team consisted mostly of students, and he found these younger people far more open to new ideas and willing to take risks – a necessary trait given the research they were conducting.

  The third chime had him on his feet and shuffling to the door. He told himself to be gracious and kind to whoever was calling. It was not their fault that this disaster had happened. And they meant well.

  As it turned out, it was not a member of his team at all. It was Bur’ Molica. The man’s stone expression and stiff posture revealed no hint of why he had come. He simply pushed his way inside and marched straight to the cabinet where Ta’ Mar kept several good bottles of sencha.

  Only after he had poured himself a tall glass did his visitor finally speak. “You are a stubborn old bastard. You know that, don’t you?”

  “What do you want?”

  Bur’ Molica drained his glass and immediately poured another. “I told you this would end in disaster. But did you listen? No. Not you. Not the great Ta’ Mar.”

  “If you have come to gloat, you can just leave.”

  “And the real tragedy is that you are every bit as brilliant as your ego tells you.” He looked at the glass for a moment before draining it a second time. “And now here I am. And here you are. They’re going to drive you off-world. I hope you understand this.”

  “They can’t force me to go anywhere,” Ta’ Mar snapped back.

  Bur’ Molica sniffed. “Arrogant fool. Of course they can. And they will.”

  “Then you should be most pleased.”

  “Pleased? Why? Because I can’t stand the sight of you? Because I think you are reckless and care only about your own ambitions?” He shrugged and crossed over to a table where he set down his empty glass. “I admit that not having you around will make my life a great deal more pleasant. But it is still a blow to science.” He locked eyes with Ta’ Mar. “I don’t like you. But you are a brilliant researcher. And unlike you, I can separate my personal feelings from my professional life.”

  “And that has been your problem all along,” Ta’ Mar countered. “You have no passion. You would rather please the committees and bureaucrats than do genuine research. All you care about is advancing your own status.”

  “You had better be grateful that I do. My status is all that stands between you and exile. Permanent exile.”

  Ta’ Mar narrowed his eyes to scrutinize the man. “Exile?”

  “I’m sorry. But they feel that if you are left to continue, you
’ll just repeat your mistake.”

  “It was not a mistake.” Ta’ Mar was appalled by the term. “I created life. Do you know what that means? Can you even begin to fathom the implications?”

  “You should ask yourself that same question. Or have you strayed so far that you cannot see reality? I know full well what you have created, Ta’ Mar. And so do the others. In spite of everything, I don’t want it destroyed any more than you do. I even tried to convince them that you were wrong, that it merely resembled life, and perhaps they should seek to study it rather than have it killed. Sadly, I failed.”

  Ta’ Mar sighed. So now he knew the identity of the lone dissenter – the one voice claiming he had not created a living being. He had wondered who could possibly be so dense as to not see the truth. This certainly explained it. “So why have you come here?” he asked.

  “To give you a choice.”

  “What kind of choice?”

  Bur’ Molica did not answer. Instead, he crossed over to the window and stared out over the lake before speaking. “A magnificent view. I can see why leaving would be such a bitter pill.”

  “Never mind all that. What choice?”

  Still no answer was forthcoming as Bur’ Molica continued in the same even tone. “I saw the schematics for the new containment vessel you have constructed. It’s impressive. Even so, in time your creature will find a way to escape.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ve designed it so that should he leave its confines, he will die.”

  Bur’ Molica glanced back over his shoulder, a deep frown on his face. “Don’t lie to me, Ta’ Mar. I’m not one of your students. There is no prison you could possibly build that would hold that thing forever. As it evolves, it will inexorably find a way to break free. What’s more, the device you constructed is designed to accommodate such an evolution.”

  Ta’ Mar stiffened. “That would be many thousands of years from now. By then he will have been taught compassion and empathy.”