Jace considered for a moment, then said, “Are you able to do that?”

  “I’ve never done it before. But yeah, at the Academy, there were a few lectures on it. I would need a few components, like a hyperneedle. You can find them inside hyperdrives.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “Helping sever the Split’s connection with an object.”

  “Is it something I could help with?” He leaned closer. “What exactly does it do?”

  “It runs back and forth in the same spot over and over again, creating temporary gashes in a hyperroute, technically severing the Split for a brief moment. It’s how starships drop out of hyperspace. It doesn’t cause permanent damage to the large channels, but if I can aim it right for a card, I could hit the connecting spiritual strands that are causing the Split to register it as part of the Sentinel.”

  Jace considered for a moment. “I can run back and forth over an area twice in quick succession. But I can do a lot more than scrape it with a needle.”

  “You can cut the Split itself? You learned how?”

  “I didn’t, but we have a spear that does.”

  Lessa’s eyes widened. “You’re right.”

  “So when we reach the next Sentinel, that’s our job,” he said. “You’ll tell me where to cut, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Jace’s mind began circling. They’d focus on the card for the next Sentinel, but if it worked…what if they could use its material for more than just cards? After the third Sentinel fell, there would be one more to experiment with.

  “But for now, we really do need to rest,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to need to be at our best.”

  “When you say ‘we’, does that actually include you? Are you actually going to sleep.”

  “Uh…” Jace winced. “Well, I still need a few hours. My body hasn’t shed the need for sleep entirely.”

  “Acceptable response.”

  The next morning, Jace and Lessa boarded the Gull as the sun rose. Clouds brimmed on the horizon, and wisps circled overhead, the remnants of last night’s storm. The sun and residual heat made some of it steam, and curls of mist wrapped up around the ship’s prow, whisking over the deck.

  A bunch of ground crew circled around the Gull, trying to figure out what they needed to do. They stared at the landing strut, looking for hooks to attach it to the ship’s catapult.

  “It’s okay!” Jace yelled. “It’ll take off without help.”

  The ground crew backed away, all except one man who had been setting up a ladder beside the cockpit. Jace gave him a nod, then used the ladder and popped the cockpit canopy. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to take off from an aircraft carrier…”

  “We can fly straight up,” Lessa said from behind him. “We don’t need this ship.”

  “True. But I might just make a show of it.”

  Once he and Lessa climbed into the cockpit, a crew member pulled the ladder away, and Jace pulled the cockpit canopy shut. The crew scattered around them.

  He activated the repellers and raised the landing struts, letting the ship hover above the deck, then linked his attributes. It wouldn’t do much, but it’d let their shields deplete more Aes at once, potentially saving them from a strike that would otherwise destroy the ship.

  Then, when he was sure he wasn’t going to kill anyone, he took off. The thrusters roared, launching them forward, and he pulled up, arcing away from the ship and turning to the east.

  Already, the fleet’s missile cruisers had turned in the right direction. Launch tubes popped open and smoke leaked out. Then, with a pop, the missiles surged out of their tubes. They raced through the sky ahead of the Gull.

  If they’d timed this right, the missiles would hit right before the Gull arrived. And there would be attacks from every nearby launch site in eastern Europe and Asia.

  Hopefully, just hopefully, it would give Jace and Lessa the edge they needed to take the Sentinel down.

  27

  WATER SENTINEL

  Jace couldn’t fly the Gull at its top speed, otherwise they’d outrun the missiles. Most flew higher than the Gull, but they shone as pinpricks of light above or beside as he and Lessa travelled northeast.

  The land below changed into a mixture of greens and browns. There were massive cracks and gorges, and patches of land that couldn’t have been there before. Alien spikes pushed through the ground, leaning over at an unnatural angle, and they flew over a forest of purple-leafed trees.

  There was a herd of long-necked cattle roaming a plain, and hundreds of birds took flight when the Gull passed over.

  Once, they had to navigate through a flock of sky-borne jellyfish, who were almost completely transparent, but when enough gathered together, they almost looked like a cloud. Their tentacles crackled with electricity, and Jace figured it was wise to avoid them.

  Finally, the next Sentinel’s storm appeared on the horizon. A wall of swirling clouds, with no lightning whatsoever, no matter how tall they were. Rain sheeted down from the clouds like a waterfall, drenching the land around it. New rivers carved through the landscape, creating massive gorges from how fast they flowed, and lakes filled up lowlands. Civilians were rushing to higher ground, but it wouldn’t save them from the whipping winds and pelting storms.

  “Any guesses what aspect it is?” Jace asked.

  “Water,” Lessa said. “It has to be water-aspect.”

  “I—yeah, no, yeah, it’s water.”

  “What’s the plan?” Lessa said. “Same as last time?”

  “When we land, same procedure,” Jace said. “But we’ll have to set the ship down somewhere, otherwise we won’t be able to get the Halcyon Spear out.”

  “You get out and distract it, and I’ll gather our equipment,” Lessa said. “Toss me some of the Sentinel’s armour, and make sure it has some flesh still attached to it. If we can even call it flesh.”

  “And when you’re ready to cut it off from the Split, let me know,” he said. “I’ll take the spear and do my best to sever it.”

  “Will do.”

  The moment they entered the storm, the rain pounded on the viewscreen so hard and so thick that Jace couldn’t hear anything, even if Lessa had shouted at the top of her lungs. It was like trying to fly underwater.

  He couldn’t see anything except the faint glint of the missiles’ thrust. One detonated prematurely in a flash. Now, in the darkness of the storm, he could pick out more inbound from all angles, and they raced to the surface.

  Perhaps it would’ve been better to fly over the storm, but this time, he wanted a more direct approach, and the Gull wasn’t showing any signs of damage—except for getting rocked around.

  Finally, the starfighter burst through a layer of clouds into the storm’s eye.

  The land below had once been a high desert plain. There were formations of rock in the distance, eroded into smooth mounds by the rain, which turned glassy in the sunlight. Being wet didn’t help, either.

  Channels of water carved the land into sections. Most of the exposed land was still wet from the torrential downpour, turning into slushy mud, but the water had rushed off toward lower land, carving massive trenches. It reminded him of a turtle’s back, covered in barnacles. If there had been any houses or settlements, they’d been swept away long ago.

  As the droplets whisked off the cockpit viewscreen, the missiles impacted. Shockwaves blasted away from a point at the center of the eye, and columns of flame and smoke rose from the impact.

  It lasted nearly a minute. Jace circled the Gull around the eye of the storm, watching the barrage. Explosion after explosion detonated just above the ground, flattening the earth and driving away the sloppy mud, leaving behind hard sand and a little bit of glass.

  Jace didn’t have any way of communicating with the people in charge, but they’d planned for the barrage to last two minutes. When it ended, he swooped down and dropped the Gull down, then popped the canopy open. “LeeKay, you’re with me this time. I’m going to need all the help I can get—as soon as I use a card, I’ll pass it to you, and I’ll need you to help me reduce its cooldown.”

  The little kyborg jumped up to his shoulder and squealed in confirmation.

  Jace sprang out of the cockpit and sprinted toward the center of the eye, ready to face the next Sentinel.

  Ash met the next wave of bad news with a sigh. Ivarpol, the last planet on the hyperroute to Kinath-Aertes, had fallen.

  The news came in a pre-recorded holo-message from Lady Fairynor, transmitted directly to his personal starship. It was an old, weathered freighter with broad wings and enough cargo capacity to fit a small army, but he’d personally retrofitted it long ago, prioritizing speed and stealth over anything else.

  As soon as the hologram ended, he shut the message down and stared out at the stars ahead. He orbited a jungle moon of the gas giant Ner Prime, where the largest Realm fleet in the sector waited.

  Then he flew down to the surface as fast as he could, flames licking the viewscreen, his stoker kyborg clanking and rattling away in the distance. Something about him descending too quickly. Perril sat in the co-pilot’s seat, flicking levers to maintain the coolant levels.

  Ash pulled up at just the right moment, and the repellers surged with a thrum, preventing them from smashing into one of the many concrete slabs dotting the jungle.

  No one knew who had built a network of flat patches in the jungle, but it was just the perfect combination of shelter and open space and it became the sector’s main naval base.

  “They didn’t even threaten to shoot us down, aye?” Perril said.

  “Yeah.” Ash steered the starship north, blasting over a wall of trees and revealing the next, even broader slab. “They can’t pick up the Lucky Sparrow on their scanners.” He patted the central control console then glanced over at Perril. “We’ll catch them by surprise.”

  Ahead, on the slabs, nearly fifty Realm battleships had settled down on enormous landing struts, and hundreds of smaller support craft were mixed in between them. The flagship was at the very center, adorned in yellow banners and surrounded by tents and other command structures.

  Ash flew over to them in a rush, before they could even scramble fighters to intercept him, and landed on an open patch near to the largest tent. It had to be the admiral’s tent. He threw off his crash harness and pulled on his cloak, then marched to the boarding ramp.

  A small army of Realm marines stood in front of the ramp, holding rifles and scowling.

  “Good evening,” Ash said. “This is some welcome.”

  “State your identity and your purpose!” an officer shouted.

  “We’re looking for Admiral Dugout.” He hesitated to call himself king. Would they even respond? How would they verify who he was? Would they recognize him? Admiral Dugout would, but the average soldier might not.

  “That’s Warlord to you,” a different soldier said.

  “Warlord?” Perril asked softly.

  “I was worried he’d pull something like this,” Ash muttered. “I knew Admiral Dugout. He was rather…egotistic, back in his day. But he should help us, if he isn’t too far gone. If he hasn’t forgotten his oaths.”

  “I asked you a question, man!” the officer demanded. “Who are you?”

  Ash sighed, then stepped down the boarding ramp. “We’re on a mission. I’m an agent of Lady Fairynor, and I wish to speak with the Admiral at once. Ivarpol has fallen. Kinath-Aertes is raising its shields and preparing the Homefleet for one last stand. The Dreadnought is in orbit.”

  The soldiers’ fingers drifted to the triggers of their plasma rifles, but the officer shook his head, then beckoned to Ash. “He’s a Wielder. There’s not much we can do.”

  They walked along the concrete slab to the largest tent, then pushed open the flap. “Warlord. There is someone here to see you. He’s from the Realm.”

  “And you let him in?”

  “He’s an agent of Lady Fairynor, and he carries a Whistling Blade. I didn’t think it wise to anger a powerful Wielder.”

  Ash chuckled. At least the officer had some common sense. “Admiral Dugout,” he said. “We’re here to request your allegiance. You’re running out of time. You must have heard Lady Fairynor’s summons by now.”

  Inside the tent, there was a desk with a lamp on it and an overweight man sat at it, his back to the flap. But at the sound of Ash’s voice, he spun around. He wore a navy officer uniform—black coat, gold buttons, peaked cap—but he also wore a yellow sash across his body. His moustache was trimmed in a new fashion, bristling and bushy, and the holographic rank projector clipped to his breast pocket was flickering—it was running out of power.

  “Ash.” Dugout shook his head. “I was wondering if I would see you again.”

  “We don’t have time. You have a massive fleet. Honour your oath and fight for the Realm.”

  “I don’t fight for failing First Attendants. What glory is there in that?”

  “But you would fight for king and country, no?”

  “I know who you are,” Dugout said. He reached for a pipe that sat on his desk and took a long whiff of it. “But I don’t fight for kings who haven’t Lit the Stars yet, either.”

  Ash grimaced. He’d received some variant of that response these past attempts. Every single time he was close, someone said that. He hadn’t mustered a single starship of aid yet. He was getting tired of this.

  “What if I killed the traitor?” Ash demanded, stepping forward.

  “Ash…” Perril warned. The marines raised their rifles again, pointing them at him and her.

  “You would have to kill a great many of my men before you found someone willing to follow you,” Dugout said. “And by then, only a tiny fraction of the fleet would remain. Get lost.”

  “That’s no way to speak to a king, aye?” Perril asked.

  “He’s no king yet.”

  Ash tried arguing, tried negotiating, tried bribing. None of it made any difference. After a few minutes, beaten down, he dragged himself back to his freighter and dropped down in the pilot’s seat.

  When they were back in orbit, Perril asked, “What is lighting the stars? Why’s it so important? It’s important, aye, cause everyone keeps mentioning it.”

  Ash sighed. “It’s a technique of the kings. A card we can use, but we must use it in the citadel tower at Kinath-Aertes. It signals that a new king has arrived. It checks the bloodline, but it requires immense willpower, and purity of willpower. No self-interest, only a desire to serve the people.”

  “Why don’t you do it?”

  Ash was silent for a few seconds, then finally, avoiding the question, he said, “I’m going to have to. I don’t think I’m going to have a choice.”

  “Then why didn’t you do it earlier?”

  “It’s not so easy. I was…hoping we could get away without it.”

  “Well, you can’t.” Perril seemed to be getting more and more agitated. “You’re afraid, aye? And you’re going to let trillions die because you were afraid?”

  “You don’t understand,” Ash said.

  “I understand enough.”

  “No, you don’t.” Ash shook his head. “I’m going back to Aertes, and soon, you’ll see. You’ll see why I had to wait.”

  28

  THE REST OF THE GALAXY

  Kinfild didn’t have any combat training advice for Ken, but he did have the training course Jace and Lessa had set up, which included a few combat trials. At first, Ken could only make it a quarter of the way around the circle before getting himself knocked on his back, or missing a jump, or something else. Kinfild was there to stop him from suffering any serious injuries.

  Ken’s aspect was fire. He wasn’t as lucky as Jace to come with a pre-formed core, so they had to work on letting him gathering Aes.

  As the days went on, Kinfild had him practicing cycling technique after cycling technique, gathering enough Aes to pass through the early stages.

  Somehow, Jace had predicted that Ken was going to become a fire-aspect Wielder, with an orangeflame aspect similar to Kinfild’s own, which made it much easier to train him. And, most importantly, it let Kinfild lend Ken a few technique cards.

  Kinfild had a supply of fire-aspect cards he’d gathered over the past few years, which was enough to get Ken started.

  An attack card, [Heat Flare], which created a pulse of incohesive flame, a fortification card, [Phoenix Guard], and a utility card [Cooldown], which had nothing to do with card cooldowns, but instead with keeping the heat in a flame Wielder's body from killing them during intense card usage.

  Ken himself had made it to Foundation Two, and had developed two pillars, so he could hold two of the cards. One was a common-grade and two were rare, allowing him to socket them with his early pillars. The early pillars weren't great, no, but no Wielder's were. It was practice for forming better pillars later.

  Of course, Kinfild finished giving Ken the exact same progress report one evening while sitting in the Luna Wrath's cargo hold.

  "Am I doing well?" Ken asked eagerly.

  "It seems so," Kinfild replied. "You're a worldjumper, and you will advance faster than most Wielders, especially with your Soul Inclination."

  "Flame harvesting..." Ken breathed. It was the ability he got upon finishing the early stages, creating his core cloud, and claiming his class—that being a [Sage], same as Kinfild.

  "Precisely,” Kinfild continued. “Most Wielders don't get abilities like that, the power to suck in fire and convert dregs of it to Aes."

  "Why do worldjumpers even get abilities like that?"

  "It comes as a tradeoff. You're supposed to serve the Split, do its bidding, and often, defeat an enormous existential threat. Why wouldn't you get a special boon to help yourself grow faster—and in turn, help the Split accomplish its desires?"

  "I suppose..." Ken said. "Well, sure. Alright. What am I meant to do, then?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "When can I get out there and start helping?"

  Kinfild raised his eyebrows. "Soon," he said.