The Sac'a'rith

By Vincent Trigili

Clear across the galaxy from where Grandmaster Vydor is building his kingdom of wizards, a new darkness is rising up. Soldiers who die in battle are standing back up and switching sides by the thousands. Entire space stations are being wiped clean of life and it seems that the military is powerless to stand against this rising tide of death.

One man, perhaps more dangerous than the darkness itself, and his apprentice, the former slave of a street thug, have risen up to stand in the gap against this new wave of darkness. Will they be enough to prevail? If they succeed, will their region be the better for it, or will they usher in an even greater evil?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vincent Trigili
• Release date: Dec 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311221728

Vincent Trigili

The Lost Tales of Power is a sci-fi fantasy cross over series written by Vincent Trigili. Vincent is a graduate student at Liberty University, and presently holds undergraduate degrees in Math and Computer Science. Currently, he is working as a senior software developer at Liberty University. Vincent owns and runs the highly popular astronomy forums, Our Dark Skies, and also maintains the associated Facebook page. He has published several astronomy journals, calendars, blog articles, poetry, and photo books over the years and now turns his hand to fiction. The worlds described in The Lost Tales of Power series were born out of Vincent’s long history of creating role playing games in the old pen and paper tradition. He uses the rich history of those worlds he created to imagine an entirely new world for this series. Vincent uses his exposure and history with science and technology to keep the stories in the realm of the possible while balancing that with an eye for fantasy. The early books in the series take place in a futuristic universe that has recently been discovered by a medieval realm; later books in the series will take place in either realm, or perhaps a realm that has yet to be discovered. All of the books are intended to be roughly equivalent to the movie rating PG. This means any teenager or adult should be comfortable reading them, but some of the material, themes and descriptions may be unsuitable for smaller children. Parents are advised to read the books themselves before deciding if their child should be exposed to the contents of the novels.

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Time Line So Far

IE = Imperial Era (similar to BC, counts backwards)

EM = Era of Magic

12/01/01 IE — Enemy of an Enemy starts

01/20/02 EM — Enemy of an Enemy ends

02/01/02 EM — The Academy starts

08/30/42 EM — The Academy ends

05/15/55 EM — Rise of Shadows starts

12/30/58 EM — Rise of Shadows ends

01/31/59 EM — Resurgence of Ancient Darkness starts

03/15/59 EM — The Sac’a’rith starts

08/11/62 EM — Spectra’s Gambit starts

10/31/62 EM — The Sac’a’rith ends

01/25/63 EM — Resurgence of Ancient Darkness ends

02/01/64 EM — Sac’a’rith: Rebirth starts

08/25/64 EM — Sac’a’rith: Rebirth ends

01/01/65 EM — Spectra’s Gambit ends

02/01/65 EM — Mage Hunter starts

07/06/67 EM — Mage Hunter ends

Map of Phareon

Map of Phareon Region

1

Zah’rak

Y ou will pay, or my Zalionian companion here will make you wish you had, said Donovan.

The little man he was speaking to looked nervously over to me with sweat beading on his forehead. He was a meek man and one who normally paid his protection money on time, but for some reason he did not have it this time.

He fell to his knees and pleaded, Please, sir, I just don’t have it right now. With the tribal uprising, my supplies have been delayed. I just need a little more time!

I pitied the poor excuse for a human. He was probably telling the truth, but Donovan was a cruel man. This would not go well for him. Donovan looked around the shop and probably noticed most of the shelves were empty, which at least gave credence to the story he was being told.

Zah’rak, have a look around in the back and see what you can find, said Donovan.

I hated my life and hated my job, but the submission collar around my neck gave me no options. Even before I could acknowledge Donovan’s command, I felt the pulses from the collar forcing me to comply. This was how I lived. If I had ever been free, I had no memory of it. If I had parents, they were strangers to me. All I knew was life as a slave controlled by an evil man and a collar.

A submission collar is a device that applies stimulation directly to pleasure and pain centers in the brain so that, over time, the wearer is trained to enjoy following his master’s commands; but I was a Zalionian, which meant I complied with such stimulation only while it suited me. At least, that is what I constantly told myself. I knew it was not true, but I fantasized that I could overcome the collar’s commands. In reality as long as I was wearing it Donovan could torture me and even kill me with a simple touch of a button. For the moment, he had me under his control, but I was just biding my time until an opportunity arose to allow my escape. For his part, I am sure Donovan knew he was a dead man the day I got this collar off, but he was the kind of man who thrived on danger.

Looking around the back room, I found it to be just as empty and bare as the front was. It was strange to see it so completely empty. I wondered if the meek man was planning to skip town without telling us. Over in the far corner I saw a safe. I knew that Donovan would want to know what was in it, and I had a moment of indecision. If there was money in that safe, then Donovan would be upset with the meek man and would force me to teach him a lesson. If I did not tell Donovan about the safe, he might tear the place up looking for one and cause far more damage than this man could afford to repair.

I decided to investigate the safe and found it unlocked, but before I could open it I heard a loud crash from the front and felt my submission collar summoning me to respond. I rushed to the front room and found several men had broken through the front door and were attacking Donovan.

Donovan was strong for a human, and an experienced fighter. He was easily holding off two of the men while the third looked on. That third man worried me; he was too calm and collected. He watched the fight as if he knew that at any time he could step in and end it.

I did not need any direct orders from Donovan; we had been in many fights over the years and worked quite well as a team. This was the one part of the job I actually enjoyed, and fortunately we traveled in circles that ensured we got to fight often. He saw me come out and instantly pivoted on his right leg while grabbing one man by the arm and sending him my way. As the man came stumbling towards me I caught him with ease, lifted him up, and tossed him over the counter into the wall. There was a rewarding sound of bones breaking as he hit it, but I did not stop to gloat over that minor victory. I crouched my large Zalionian frame and prepared to launch myself at the third man, when he pulled out a blaster and fired a single shot.

It seemed that time stood still as the bolt from the blaster flew through the air towards me. Even though the energy from the weapon moves at the speed of light, it was as if I saw it travel towards me in slow motion. A warm joy came over me as the bolt hit me: I would finally be free. It did not turn out quite like that. The bolt from the blaster did not hit me directly, but merely grazed my neck. It seemed I was not to be freed through death today.

I launched myself into the air, knowing that I might not get another chance to take this man down before he could shoot again. Pain began to burn in my neck; I realized that the blast had not missed by as much as I had thought, but the discomfort would not slow me down. Pain was one thing I was very used to: it marked my daily life with Donovan.

The man who was my target smiled and deftly stepped to the side with a speed and grace the like of which I had never seen before. I could not adjust my trajectory in time and crashed into the wall behind him, destroying a section of it.

My head felt strange as I sprang to my feet. With a great sweep of my tail I tried to catch him off-guard, but again he almost effortlessly dodged my attack. Whoever this person was, he was not an ordinary traveler in these parts. No one out here could afford blasters, and the skill with which he moved was beyond that seen in the local gangs.

As a Zalionian, I was significantly bigger and stronger than any mere human. My armored scales, claws and tail gave me distinct advantages in physical combat. Normally the mere fact that I towered over my adversaries caused them to back off from a fight out of fear, but this man was as calm as could be. That meant he might be a worthy opponent. It was so rarely I found one that I relished the few chances I got to fight such a man.

As I slipped into a more defensive posture to better evaluate my target, I saw that Donovan had dispatched the man he was fighting and had drawn his own weapon: a small handgun that launched explosive pellets. It had nowhere near the range and power of a blaster, but it was deadly in close-range combat like this. Donovan had positioned himself so that the unknown man could either shoot me, which would give Donovan the opening to fire at him, or turn to shoot Donovan, which would give me the opportunity to kill the stranger.

The pain in my neck was beginning to reach a level that not even I could ignore, and the room was swimming in random directions around me. I slowly reached up to my neck and felt the collar; it was hot, very hot to the touch. It must have been damaged by the blaster shot. The pain grew to a blinding level. My vision went completely red and I could feel my heart racing. It was all I could do to remember to breathe through the intensity of the pain. My basic instincts took over; I seized the collar where the blaster had weakened it and ripped it from my neck. One final wave of pain racked my body, and then I was free!

I looked over at Donovan, that cruel man who had so mistreated everyone he dealt with and regularly forgot to provide me with the necessities of life. As he opened his mouth to say something, I felt a primal anger build up inside me which raged into an uncontrollable fire, propelling me into action.

Acting on basic animal instinct and ignoring the man with the blaster, I leaped into the air, landing on a very surprised Donovan; I grabbed his head, digging my claws deep into his neck. With one vicious twist and pull, I ripped it from his shoulders and screamed a victory cry from somewhere deep down within the darkest area of my soul. Decades of repressed anger came flowing out in that scream.

2

Zah’rak

It took a few moments for the rational part of my mind to regain control over my body, and when it did I found myself standing over the newly-decapitated body of Donovan with his head in my hands. Then I remembered the man with the blaster.

I turned to face him, letting Donovan’s head fall unceremoniously to the floor. The man just stood there. He had holstered his blaster and looked completely calm. He was tall, maybe as high as two meters, about a full head shorter than me; thin for a human, with dark skin and jet-black hair. His eyes seemed somehow unusual for his race, but I could not quite place why.

My brain raced to make sense of the situation. He could have easily killed me while I had my back towards him, yet I was alive and it did not look as if he intended to attack me at all. Who are you, stranger?

I like to think of myself as a problem-solver, and you seem to have a big problem on your hands now, he said.

He was right. Not only was I now officially an escaped slave, but I had killed my master; that pretty much signed my death warrant out here. What’s that to you?

Like I said, I am a problem-solver. I can help you.

Why should I trust you? You and your boys attacked us.

Oh, I assure you, those pathetic excuses for humans were not with me. I came here to shop.

I looked him over again and remembered how he had moved during the fight. He was definitely not from this region; he had the look of a wealthy traveler and the moves of a professional warrior. A thought then occurred to me. You missed on purpose.

On the contrary, I did not miss. I hit my target perfectly.

Why?

I hate slavery.

He definitely could not be from around here, then. In the years since the fall of the Empire, slavery had steadily increased. As the economy collapsed, more and more people were sold to pay off debt, and now it was a normal part of life. I would guess almost everyone either was a slave or owned one these days.

Then I guess I owe you my thanks for making me a fugitive, I said.

A free fugitive, he said.

Yeah. Well, I’d better get a move on. I will need to be clear of the area before anyone finds this mess, I said. My clothes were soaked in Donovan’s blood, which would make it difficult to avoid notice. I would have to get back to Donovan’s place before anyone found the body and take everything I could carry. After that I would have to get transport off this planet before anyone connected any dots back to me.

Like I said, I am a problem-solver. Come to work for me, and I will take care of this, he said.

Work for you? I asked.

Yes, I travel in rough circles and could use a good fighter by my side, he said.

A bodyguard, then? I asked.

Something like that. I fix your problem here and you work for me at normal mercenary rates for a year. Deal? he asked.

I had another very real problem: I was poor and it was unlikely I could steal enough from Donovan to last long. That made me a poor, escaped slave and a murderer on the run. My chances of making it alone ranged from slim to non-existent. I really had no choice. And after the year, what then?

You either stay in my employment or leave: your choice, he said.

I looked back at the body of my former master and realized I was trading one kind of slavery for another, but this one had an end date. One year and I would be free with a decent bank account. Sure, I’m game.

Then let’s rewrite history, shall we? he said and quickly went to work. First he connected a device to the store’s computer system and activated it; meanwhile I helped him to pile all three bodies in the center of the room. Then I remembered the meek man and asked, Where’s the storekeeper?

He ran off, he said, before you came out of the back room.

Once we had all the bodies together he placed an incendiary device on top of them and started the timer. Let’s move, he said as he disconnected his device from the computers. I assume there is a rear exit?

Yes, this way, I said as I led him out the back. We hurried down the alley just as the store caught fire.

That fire will destroy all evidence of the fight. Those men are not likely to be missed any time soon, he said. As for you, we need to get you some clean clothes. Do you know a good place that does not ask questions?

This way, I said. I led him through back alleys to be sure we stayed clear of any prying eyes. That shop there, across the way.

Good. Let’s go.

Wait! If I step out there without a collar, people will notice, I said.

That’s fine. I bought your freedom two days ago when I hired you. We had the collar removed just this morning at Marty’s, he said.

But … I started.

Just follow my lead. He smiled and walked towards the store.

I shrugged and obediently followed him. Once inside the store I got some stares but ignored them as he bartered with the shopkeeper for some clothes much nicer than I was accustomed to. It was not long before my blood-soaked clothes were tossed into an incinerator, and I was dressed in something more befitting a rich traveler. I felt silly walking around in such fine clothes, but they did make it look more credible that I was accompanying this man.

Come, we need to get to the spaceport before too many questions are raised about that fire, he said and we headed across town. This planet was a dry, dusty place that very few people ever visited. The spaceport was a fairly small affair, used mainly by locals to escape the desolate world.

Not good, I said as we approached the gate. Not only were there extra guards on duty, I knew several of them. I had even fought with one of them in the slave pits. They knew that I was Donovan’s property and would no doubt be suspicious.

Don’t worry. Stick to the new version of history and leave the rest to me, he said.

As we approached the gate two of the guards went for their weapons. The third stepped forward and said, Stealing a slave is a serious crime around here, mister.

How dare you accuse me! said my new employer, flashing an ID card in the guard’s face. The guard went pale and fell back a step.

John, it’s okay, I said. I am with him now.

John tried to gather his composure and said, Sorry, sir, but I am just trying to do my job. I need to do a quick scan of his ID and then I can be out of your way.

After that insult, you’d better make it fast, said my new master, crossing his arms.

Of course, sir, said John with a stutter.

It was all I could do not to react when he scanned my ID. The screen showed my history, and it clearly indicated my purchase from Donovan two days previously and the removal of my collar this morning. Somehow he had really done it; he had rewritten history. I could not imagine how he achieved it. The ID cards were encrypted and secured at the highest levels with biometric encoding so that no one other than the correct person could use them. They were linked to a galactic database that was left over from the era of the Emperor, whose technology was greater than that which we had today. To change an ID like this should have been completely impossible.

The look of surprise on John’s face was priceless, but he and the others moved quickly to get out of our way and let us through. Once past them we headed towards the rear end of the spaceport, the section reserved for only the largest craft. Eventually we reached his ship, which was in the most remote part of the spaceport.

We quickly boarded and he immediately called for clearance to launch. His vessel was not at all what I had been expecting, but it did explain the reaction of the guards at the gate. It was a top-of-the-line trade hauler with the markings of the Resden Consortium on its side.

This region of the galaxy was officially part of the Phareon Kingdom, which was formed decades ago at the fall of the great Empire. The ruling party had been slow to seize power, and several major consortiums rose up to fill that power gap. The government still operated as if it owned and controlled all of the systems in this region, but the reality was that these consortiums held the actual power in many areas.

In this section of Phareon the Resden Consortium was all-powerful, and no one dared stand up to them. Even without my new history the guards were not likely to have stopped us. The consortiums usually tried to play nice with the government, but this was only for the look of things and not from any respect for official authority.

Once we were safely underway I turned to my companion and asked, So, what should I call you?

Narcion will do, he said. I assume you want to keep the name Zah’rak?

Yeah, but how do you know it? I asked.

I scanned your DNA when I created your new history, he said.

Who are you? I asked.

Like I told you, I’m a problem-solver. People hire me to fix things for them and pay very good money for it.

Yes, but this ship and your ID? Those aren’t for sale, I said.

Everything is for sale if the price is right, and the right price was collecting the ship.

What do you mean?

Someone managed to steal this ship, and the Resden Consortium wants it back. They gave me this ID plus a rather large sum of money up front to collect it. I stopped on your planet for some supplies en route to deliver it.

It made sense that they would not want one of their ships being used by someone outside of their own number, but Resden had plenty of power themselves: why would they need outside help? I decided not to challenge his story just yet, until I knew more about what I had gotten myself into.

So we deliver this ship, they pay up, and then what? I asked.

Then on to the next contract, whatever that turns out to be, he said.

I see, I said.

Now, your record said you were a pilot. Can you fly this thing? he asked.

This? It’s largely automated. A child could fly it in his sleep, I said.

Be that as it may, we will be crossing some dangerous space soon where the Resden Consortium has no authority, and we cannot risk leaving the helm unmanned. We will need to sleep in shifts.

You are taking us into the Zeta sector, then? I asked with astonishment.

Yes. They don’t want anyone to see the exchange, so they’ll meet us out there, he said.

I don’t like the sound of that, I replied.

Good; you shouldn’t, were his parting words as he left the bridge.

I assumed he wanted me to take first watch at the helm, so I spent some time familiarizing myself with the controls. Once I had done that, I checked our route and saw that he had us flying directly off the map into uncharted space.

We traveled for three days beyond the end of civilized space, well into what was commonly called the Zeta Sector. This was not really a formal sector; it was just the general name for uncharted space. When the Empire ruled this area it established strict borders which no citizen was allowed to cross, and it was illegal to even make maps of the region. With the fall of the Empire and the rise to power of the various consortiums, very few people had the resources to travel out here, so the area remained largely unpopulated.

This made it a very good place for those on the run from whatever passed as law enforcement in any given area. There was not much in the way of resources, at least not that anyone had found, so these outlaws took to piracy along the borders of the various territories to keep themselves supplied. No one in civilized space knew what lay out this far, and most had no desire to find out.

As Narcion came up onto the bridge I said, One more jump and we will be at the rendezvous coordinates.

Excellent. Can this ship scan that far ahead? he asked.

No. It seems that whoever designed this spent far more time on its armor than anything else.

Well, that could be very helpful. Plot our exit to come up at least a thousand kilometers shy of the rendezvous. That should give us a little time to react.

I plotted the course and then said, You are not expecting this to go well.

I have lived through enough deals of this kind to be suspicious, he said. He strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and continued, When we come out of jump space I want them to think I am alone, so let me do all the talking.

Yes, sir. I was beginning to understand his personality, which was secretive; he told me very little. I was used to this, having been a slave for so long, but it did not sit well with my inquisitive nature.

Engaging jump drives, he said as we entered the azure timelessness of jump space.

Coming out of jump space has a disorientating effect that pilots affectionately call post-jump hangover, as it feels a lot like the morning after a heavy night. This means that a pilot is temporarily incapacitated for as much as a minute after a jump. During that brief time, the ship’s computers have to make all the decisions.

Once the post-jump sensation had passed, I saw in front of us what was obviously a trap. A small fleet of ships were arranged in a circle around the rendezvous site. They must have noticed us, as they were just beginning to turn in our direction.

Narcion turned on the communication system and called out a series of codes, which I assumed identified us to the approaching fleet. There is a distinct lack of response, I said.

It appears so. Time for Plan A, he said.

Plan A? I asked.

Power up our weapons and target their leader.

Yes, sir, I said as I followed his orders, but we are a hauler, not a battleship. It might be wiser to jump clear while we still can.

Not at all. I promised to deliver this ship, and that is what I mean to do, he said with a smile as he roared the massive engines up to full power and made for the approaching fleet.

As we neared the fleet he repeated his message several times, each time without response. I was starting to worry that his plan might not include our survival.

Zah’rak, set the weapons to full auto and head to Cargo Bay Three.

Yes, sir. What do you want me to do when I get there?

You will find my personal cruiser there. Board it and get it ready to fly, he said.

Now his plan started to make sense. I quickly set the guns to full auto as he had ordered and ran down to the cargo bay. There I found his ship, unlocked. It was a small, light, fast attack cruiser, perfect for an escape run. It had no specific markings on it of any kind and from the outside looked very plain. It was not the kind of object you would notice, nor would it stay in your memory. It was the perfect kind of craft for those who did not want to draw attention to themselves.

I released all the docking clamps and boarded the vessel. Once on the bridge I powered up all its systems and charged its weapons. I did not have any real combat experience in space, but I figured it could not be all that much different to fighting on the ground. The trick would be to stay calm and watch for attacks at any angle.

It was not long before I saw Narcion board the ship on the security cameras. Once he was aboard I locked down the ship, depressurized the cargo bay, and aligned the cruiser for launch. Since it was in a cargo bay and not a normal spacecraft dock we would have to open the bay doors and fly out instead of using a launch tube.

Good work. Now we wait, said Narcion as he took the co-pilot’s seat on the bridge.

For what? I asked.

Right now the hauler is winning the fight out there, but it won’t be long till the larger ships engage and start taking down our weapons. Once that happens, they will send in their smaller ships to attempt to breach our hull with boarding parties. That is when we will launch.

I could see the wisdom in that plan. As small and fast as we were, the larger ships had no hope of catching us. The only ships we needed to be concerned with were their light attack craft. If they were tied up, our chance of escape was much better. Is this still Plan A?

It had better be. I have no Plan B, he said as he patched the ship’s computers into the hauler’s computer bank. Once that was done we could monitor the fight from our position. The hauler’s computer was doing a good job at holding off the light attack craft, largely because its armor was far too thick for their weapons to penetrate.

It did not take long for the big ships to arrive and turn the tide against the computer. Soon most of the ship’s weapons’ ports were off-line and the enemy was attempting to board, as Narcion had predicted. Okay, it’s time. Make a run for it, he said.

As the cruiser was already in launch position, I throttled up the engines, opened the cargo bay doors, and launched at maximum velocity. Immediately upon exiting the cargo bay, our tactical alarms went crazy as the surrounding ships all tried to lock their weapons on us.

Reduce power to thirty percent, and come about to z plus sixty, commanded Narcion.

That seemed completely foolish to me, but decades as a slave had taught me to comply first and think never. I made the course corrections as Narcion entered a code into the display in front of him. Then, without warning, we were in jump space.

Once we had emerged Narcion asked, Status?

Checking, I said as I shook the off the mind-numbing effects of exiting jump space and checked the tactical display. We are twenty thousand kilometers from our previous location, and it appears that no one has seen us.

Excellent. Keep everything on low power for the moment and align to 187 mark 37 degrees for our next jump.

Once I had aligned the ship I watched the fight on the long-range scanners. The hauler continued to fight back as best it could with most of its weapons destroyed, but other than that there was not much happening. It would not take them long to board the ship, especially if they used the open cargo bay from which we had left.

All the time I’d been watching the fight, Narcion seemed to be waiting for something. We could have jumped much further away and ensured our safety, so he must have had a reason for remaining in this place. His face was blank as he watched the screen. I do not know what he was looking for, but without any warning or change in his expression his hand calmly drifted up and tapped a button on his console.

I glanced at my tactical screen in time to see the hauler explode. The explosion ripped through the surrounding ships and was moving quickly towards us, but Narcion had already triggered the jump drives and we escaped into jump space.

When we came out of post-jump hangover, Narcion activated the communication system. On the screen appeared a man in Resden uniform who snapped, Well, do you have our stuff or not?

Funny you should ask that, said Narcion. Your little trap failed.

Trap? What are you talking about? he asked.

This, said Narcion as he played back the recording of the ambush we