Stone Rising Read online

  Copyright © 2013 by Gareth K Pengelly.

  Writing and illustrations by Gareth K Pengelly.

  No part of this book may be taken, sold or reproduced without the express consent of the author.

  All characters portrayed are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Prologue:

  Streaks of silver in the purple night. Stars, innumerable, burning bright. Entire worlds flashing past in a blur as they soared through the void. Contrails of glistening light streamed from wings of stone as she looked out the viewport to the sky, noting the swathes of iridescent colour, the inky ramblings of a cosmic paintbrush. But even as she thought the words, she knew that they were wrong.

  For she had left the sky so very far behind.

  How far now? A billion? A billion-billion miles? Teanna didn’t know, she was no astronavigator. She thought back to the Earth, to New Great Britain, her breast aching with the memory of that green and lush land with its golden towers. Oh, but how she longed to be lying down in the thick, evening grass, listening to the howls of the wolves, watching the majestic silhouettes of the Sky Barges as they floated silently from Spire to Spire. The sense of child-like loss at the remembrance of her homeland threatened to overwhelm her, but she quelled it.

  She was a child no longer.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  She was a Knight Templar.

  Smiling, Teanna turned away from the vista of stars and colour, watching the familiar form of Kel slide seamlessly from the shadows, her warm smile echoed on his. She was tall, but Kel was taller still, his long, gangly form a clear head and shoulders above her. Combined with the form-fitting leather of his uniform, this lent him the semblance of a striking snake. Apt.

  “Just missing home.”

  She was nothing, if not honest. For what point ever trying to conceal the truth from Kel? He was a brother to her, in many ways, and could always see through her attempts at lying. Besides, they were Knights now. And Knights didn’t lie.

  “Same,” he admitted, the warm tones of his west-country voice belying his lethal skill-at-arms. “I have to admit, I was looking forward to riding on a Dragonship, but now I’m on one, I’d quite like nothing more than to get off it…”

  Teanna nodded, her tightly drawn back ponytail bobbing in time to her affirmation. After the bustling life of home, the cathedral-silence of a Dragonship took some getting used to. She placed her hand to the stone wall of the hallway, feeling again that strange warmth, a tingling, a throbbing that had nothing to do with her own pulse and everything to do with the strange design of the vessel itself. A slow, rhythmic pulsing. Steady. Strong. A heartbeat; as though the ship itself were alive. Closing her eyes, she expanded her consciousness, allowing her mind to spread outwards and explore, as only those with the gift were wont to do. Only the Knights, with their Psionic Crystals implanted in their wrists, allowing them to tune in to the hidden world about them.

  Only the Knights. And a few, select, others.

  Her mind flowed through the circuits, through the walls, as it had done before so many times on this voyage. She knew where she could go, just as she knew where the ship itself would stop her from exploring further, its vast, cold computers gently yet firmly keeping her at bay. How did it know to do this, she continued to wonder? Sure, technology existed that could detect, dampen, even outright block the Knightly Powers. She had felt it herself during her training at the Academy, where dampening fields had been activated at random during the obstacle courses and trials, forcing the Initiates to think on their feet, to rely on their instincts and bodies as much as their gifts. But this was different. Reactive. Natural. Almost as though…

  She pushed the thoughts from her mind with a mental shrug and forged on, spying through cameras and speakers the happenings aboard the ship. There, five hundred yards back: the training ranges, soldiers from the army practicing with their weapons under the strict instruction of drill sergeants. The whip-crack of Sonic Snaprifles; the ozone tang of Arc Cannon. She saw the soldiers cheering as a target droid exploded under the assault of a Magnetic Railgun and smirked; all their fearsome arsenal but a pale imitation of the Knightly Powers, but then stopped herself. Humility, Teanna, she chastised herself. A Knight is humble, not proud.

  Onwards, past the barracks and the training grounds. The kitchens, hundreds of staff toiling, hard at work, labouring over fresh meats, steaming vegetables, all kept pristine and fresh by the vast stasis-holds deep within the Dragonship. Nothing but the best for those that risked their lives for the furtherance of mankind.

  Deeper still, down into the bowels of the ship itself, a warm glow, the throbbing heartbeat growing deep, thunderous now in its power. The Heart of the Dragonship. About the great furnace of power laboured the slaves that formed the bulk of the workforce aboard the vessel. Criminals, paying their penance to mankind by serving aboard its ships, hauling fuel and materials in the sweltering heat. Some of the lesser criminals might work off their debt to society, eventually earning promotion to the paid ranks aboard the ship. Others, those with darker pasts, graver misdeeds, would be toiling for the rest of their natural lives. And beyond.

  No pity had Teanna for those poor souls that laboured therein. The Lord of Mankind was nothing but fair in his judgements.

  She made to venture further, to see what else might be happening aboard the half-mile leviathan, but a sense of dislocation rippled through her mind, followed by a creaking rumble through the superstructure of the Dragonship. Something had changed.

  They were slowing.

  A hand on her shoulder and her mind rocketed back to her physical body in an instant. Only seconds had passed since she had touched the bulkhead. Kel’s brown eyes glistened in the half darkness of the hallway as he nodded, showing that he had felt it too.

  “We’re decelerating. Let’s get to the bridge. I think the time is near…”

  ***

  The mood aboard the bridge was tense as the pair stepped out onto the command deck, their enhanced eyes adapting in an instant to the gloom, the only light that of the blinking instruments and the bright starlight that twinkled in through the twin apertures of the Dragonship’s eyes. The air was quiet, save the muted beeps and jingles that played from consoles and screens. A hundred staff sat in their booths and alcoves; engineers, astronavigators, targeting officers, all silent, all doing their duty. The command deck, the bridge, had all the appearance of a theatre; rows of stations all subtly angled towards the stage of the viewports; the stars and planets that twinkled in the inky void, the cast in a celestial production.

  A door hissed open. Yukio and Mia, the other two young Knights assigned to this vessel. Teanna gave a nod and a smile as the pair moved over to join them.

  “We’re here then?” enquired Yukio. “I can’t believe we’re here already. It’s only been a fortnight and we’re halfway across the galaxy.”

  To some, his flawless English accent might have seemed out of place given the oriental seriousness of his face. But Yukio was a Knight, bred in the halls of the Academy, for warfare and politics. Kel nodded in affirmation.

  “Aye. Proper job.”

  Teanna breathed out a sigh of relief.

  “I can’t wait to make planet fall. This Dragonship gives me the creeps.”

  Mia nodded in agreement, long blonde locks rippling like liquid sunlight, in stark contrast to the dark of her Knightly attire.

  “I know what you mean,” she replied. “I can never shake the feeling I’m being… watched.”

  A whistle curtailed their conversation, the sharp rap of boots snapping to attention in unison, before another hiss of pneumatically operated door signalled a fresh arrival. Every crew member not engaged in some task a
t that precise moment froze, rigid and smart as heavy, booted steps thudded through their midst.

  Only the Knights stayed at ease, though they inclined their heads in respect as the figure drew near. For this was no mere captain of a ship. This was a figure of legend, stepped straight out of the story books and onto the bridge. He strode to them, an almost tangible aura of ageless wisdom and confidence exuding from him in waves, for despite the comparative youthfulness of his face, this man was as old as the four of them combined. His form was swollen with bionic modification, the faint hum and whirr of machinery audible from beneath his cloak and uniform.

  Fixing them with his eyes, one still natural, glistening with preserved youth, the other long since replaced by a cybernetic scanner, the green retinal displays flickering as they fed him with live information from the ship’s feeds, the man spoke, his voice grating, almost metallic in tone.

  “Well, my young Knights. Seems your first ever planet fall is afoot. Nervous?”

  It was Yukio who replied, his tone serious as ever.

  “No, my liege. We are Knights. We do not fear.”

  The part-man, part-machine smiled, before placing his arm on the youth’s shoulder. Where there should be a forearm and hand, there was now but a weapon, intricately wrought with exquisite detail, the faint golden glow and subtle hum of arcane artifice serving to test Yukio’s claims by its proximity.

  “Hold onto that courage, my friends.” His eyes darkened somewhat, as though recalling times long past. “We will have need of such confidence before long…”

  A clearing of throat. An ensign by the Lord’s side.

  “We are being hailed, Admiral.”

  A nod, a smile, and the metal man turned and strode towards the viewscreen that hung ‘twixt the dragon’s eyes, the Knights following his wake.

  “On screen.”

  The dark screen blazed into the image of a man, tanned, swarthy, yet no older in appearance than the Admiral himself. The gathered Knights and crewmembers, however, knew that appearances were deceptive. For this was none other than another of the Few.

  “Naresh, you old dog, how you doing?”

  The image cracked into a beaming smile at the words, eyes lighting up with genuine warmth.

  “Marlyn! Good to see you, my friend!”

  The crewmembers and Knights all watched on, hushed, eyes wide, wondering at the mutual friendship and history between the two. That two such figures, so revered, so high in station and profoundly entwined in history should be conversing like brothers. It seemed surreal, as though eavesdropping on the Olympian banter between Zeus and Poseidon.

  “We got here as quickly as six wings allow. So tell me, Naresh, how has Eurydes been treating you?”

  The smile flickered for an instant, as though tides of emotion strove to burst through the dam of restraint.

  “Times have been… grim, Marlyn. Things are escalating. There is not much time left. The hour draws near.”

  Marlyn nodded, his one organic eye serious as he took in the information.

  “I understand. Everyone else here?”

  “Aye. My three brothers arrived last week. The Tuladors two days ago. They are all waiting for you,” he told the Admiral. “He is waiting for you.”

  Another nod of acceptance.

  “Very well. Does that little rock of yours have somewhere we can park this beast?”

  Laughter from the Steppes Man.

  “Come to my Palace. You’ll be guided in. We’ll see you soon, old man.”

  Marlyn grinned.

  “Indeed you will, old man!”

  The viewscreen cut out as the connection ended, the motionless crew all of a sudden finding things to be getting on with as the green orb of Eurydes drifted into view through the eye apertures. Only the Knights remained still, watching the Admiral as he stood, head bowed, thinking over what he’d just learned.

  “Who do you think Lord Naresh meant by he?” asked Mia in hushed tones.

  Yukio frowned for a second, before replying.

  “Only one person it could be…”

  Teanna nodded.

  “The Lord of Man-“

  The moment froze, the word dragging on into meaningless nothing, before pausing. All about, crew members sat still, locked in place, even the blinking controls and displays rendered frozen. No noise, no movement, save the regular, mechanical breathing of the Admiral himself. And the soft, silken tones of the woman before him.

  “I knew you were here. I could feel you even as you entered the system.”

  Marlyn smiled; her flaming hair, her petite figure, those startling green eyes that always reminded him of his; all the same as he remembered. But then, they always would be. None of the Few would ever change.

  Subconsciously, his retina display flashed up diagnostics of his cybernetic upgrades. Well, time wouldn’t change them, at least. Circumstance, on the other hand…

  “And I knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist showing your face, my angel.”

  She smiled at the words and he longed to reach out and touch her. But he knew it was to no avail; she wasn’t really here, only her spirit. Soon, though, soon. How long had it been? Six months? So long to be apart, but they had been warned. Their Lord had told them that duty to mankind would come first.

  The image of Gwenna nodded over to the four frozen Knights Templar.

  “How’re the new recruits?”

  Marlyn looked over his shoulder to follow her gaze.

  “Seem to be getting younger every year. They appear to have good heads on their shoulders though.”

  Gwenna laughed, ringlets of red bouncing in time to her mirth.

  “I remember when you looked the youngest out of us all, my love. Yet look at you now, all grown up, with a dragon as your personal chariot.” She smiled, quiet for a moment. “I missed you.”

  He nodded, a wry grin on his face.

  “I know.”

  She narrowed her eyes in mock anger, before vanishing, the bridge erupting once more into light and noise and motion.

  “-kind. They must have meant Lord Stone himself.”

  The other three Knights nodded in agreement with Teanna’s words, shivering in anticipation of perhaps meeting the Lord himself, but their train of thought was interrupted by the metallic, bellowing call of Admiral Marlyn as he issued orders.

  “Retract secondary and tertiary wing pairs, lock onto psi-buoys and prepare for atmospheric entry. We head for New Merethia.” He turned to make his way back to his quarters at the rear of the bridge, before looking back over his shoulder to his second-in-command. “And try not to scare the locals too much…”

  ***

  New Merethia, capital city of Eurydes. The folk here miners and farmers, for the most part; the world given over to supplying the war effort. This world, here, now, in this far flung arm of the Milky Way, had the misfortune to be right on the brunt of conflict, a border world, right on the edge.

  Invasion Point.

  As such, the population had become accustomed to the sight of the mounting martial might of the Navy. Battlecruisers, Frigates, Carriers; vessels miles long, weighing a million tons apiece, hanging, motionless, in geosynchronous orbit above them, visible both during the bright, blue days and the clear, black nights. Firepower that could crack the planet asunder like an egg, poised above them like Damocles’ blade. But the vessels had been gathering now for months and even the meekest of the populace had become inured to their presence.

  But this. This was different. This was no cruiser, no transport vessel that descended low and fast to their city. Sleek, predatory. Reptilian. The stone-grey leviathan flew in silence over the land, the shadow swamping towns in its darkness, then plunging them back into sunlight just as fast. Wings, half a mile long. A tail, arrow straight. A head, with befanged jaws and eyes that glowed an otherworldly hue.

  A Dragonship of legend had come to roost. And Dragonships were called upon for one purpose and one purpose alone.

  It was t
he graffiti that appeared that very day in spray painted letters on the wall of the Market Place that conveyed it, the red painted words of the unknown artist reflecting perfectly the mood of the people. The mood of the times.

  It read: SHIT HAS JUST GOT REAL

  Shit had indeed got real. Shit that had begun, as some would have you believe, over two hundred years before.

  Chapter One:

  Thunder in the mountains. Deep, rumbling. But no, not that, not thunder.

  Not anymore.

  The mountains were long gone, never to be seen again. But the forests; the forests remained. And as long as there were forests, then they could never be defeated. They would always survive, one way or another. They would run. They would hide. And they would do what good they could for the people of this land in what time they had left, knowing that one day, maybe soon, they would be found. And they would be brought back home.

  It had been promised.

  That noise again. Luis felt it this time, deep in his chest, growing stronger, steadier. More insistent. It struck him with a thrill of anticipation.

  Horses, not thunder; the enemy were close.

  He turned, fled into the trees, disappearing with a skill almost innate until no trace of him remained, save the faintest of twitches as flattened grass strove to right itself and seek once more the weak summer sun.

  ***

  “How close?”

  “A mile out, maybe two.”

  “How many?”

  “I’m… I’m not sure.”

  A sigh of exasperation and Luis flinched, fully expecting an angry outburst from his questioner, but none was forthcoming. The figure before him merely shook his head in disappointment, before continuing.

  “This isn’t our homeland, Luis. But the principles by which we fight still stand. Where there are trees, there is advantage. Climb. Watch. Report back. We live and die by knowing more than our foe and anticipating his moves. Even with the locals to aid us, we number few. If we’re ambushed, we’re doomed.”