Rulers of Valinthia: Valinthia Trilogy, #2

By Daniel A. Roberts

Even with one of their own as President of the Galaxy, the mayhem doesn't stop as Galactopolis sends supplies, ships and construction androids to assist Valinthia in rebuilding their war ravaged cities. A world of magic tries hard to peacefully co-exist with a galaxy filled with technology. 

As Valinthia was successfully saved from the galactic invasion three months earlier, the truce between good and evil dissolves. Staying behind on the space station Galactopolis, Raphael's necromancy flourishes unhindered. Changelings rally to his cause as they plan for a power grab to rule the galaxy on their own terms. President Misty does her best to contain his evil, but with her magic gone along with a heavy reliance on technology, she can't do it alone!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel A. Roberts
• Release date: Mar 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524205058

Book preview

Chapter One

WELCOME TO VALINTHIA! flashed in neon red on the giant signboard.  Running off the power of the landed construction ship near the war torn remains of destroyed Harbor Town, the imposing square slab of plastic didn't do a damn thing to impress the planet's leadership. 

Larry Hark politely adjusted his business suit tie, feeling awkward and intimidated at the same time.  He was doing his best to sell more than just the sign, he needed to know where the location of the new starport was to be built. 

Most of the intimidation he felt came from the building sized monster who could talk.  Known as Vorigar Scalekeeper of the Acid Clan, the dragon was most critical of the sign itself.  It glows with a red glimmer, he half growled between rows of large spike-like teeth.  Red is one of the colors of evil.  We simply can't have that color welcoming newcomers. 

Dragus Ironboot looked tough as nails for a human warrior.  He shook his head, both mailed palms forward.  We can't have this thing you call a starport built here.  We've just begun rebuilding Harbor Town.  We can't have crowds of void walkers landing here and making bother. 

Larry cocked his head.  Void walkers? 

Orinda the Oracle giggled, a sweet smile stretching across her gnomish upturned face.  You're a void walker.  What you call outer space, we call a void.  She was doing her best to remain polite.  These new peaceful void walkers didn't know Valinthia's rules of etiquette yet.  When they wanted to discuss something important with gnomes, it was considered polite to go to one knee to speak eye to eye.  That would have to be addressed another time, as of right now, the poor fellow looked like he was being harassed. 

I see, Larry replied with some confusion.  Forgive me, but if the sign is um, the color of evil, what color should I make it when we do find a location for the starport? 

The silvery ball of light zipping up rather quickly from the distance came to a halt almost right in front of his face, causing the fellow to flinch.  Rosalind Oakheart, the Pixie Queen's most trusted adviser, overheard everything with her sensitive ears.  The eight inch tall woman with buzzing wings was making Larry cross his eyes to focus on her hovering before him.  She announced happily, Bluuuuuuuue!  Make it blue, honey!  That's the color of loving warmth! 

Uh oh, Orinda said cautiously, looking up towards Vorigar with a questioning expression.  Is it that time? 

I'm afraid so, Vorigar whispered back.  As a dragon, he wouldn't want the other smaller races around him to go deaf.  To everyone but other dragons, his whisper was considered rather loud.  The years seem to go by faster every century. 

Larry took a cautious step back from the overabundance of happiness emitting through a smiling Rosalind.  She pirouetted in the air before him, showing off.  Excuse me, he said quickly.  Blue?  I can change it to blue.  What is this every century thing you're concerned about? 

Orinda and Vorigar replied blandly in unison, long used to the unfolding drastic event among Rosalind's people.  Pixie crush. 

Larry misunderstood something fierce.  What?  I would never harm this little flying woman.  Crush her?  Never! 

Orinda hid her building laugh quite well as she explained the issue.  No no, not crush as in smash.  Crush as in temporary unconditional love.  Every one hundred years, all pixie women go through a phase.  They develop a crush.  Usually they stay within their own borders when this happens, but Rosalind here has duties outside her realm.  It seems, um, that she is crushing on you right now. 

Orinda's observation was a huge understatement.  Rosalind was in the middle of hugging Larry's nose tip, silvery sparkles erupting all around her tiny form.  Her small voice was amplified by a spell, so she sounded like any other full sized human woman as she added, Ooo we!  Isn't he handsome?  She let go of his nose to settle in his thick brown hair on top of his head.  She danced through the strands.  La la la! How soft this is!  La la la, I think he wants a kiss! 

Larry's expression was completely unreadable.  I don't have time for this, he complained to Vorigar, looking to the huge monster for help and finding none.  I need to know where I can start building the starport.  Every member planet of Galactopolis has to have one, I can't deal with this...what did you call it?  Pixie crush?

The answer to that was Rosalind herself.  Legs intertwined in his upper bangs, she leaned over and placed a kiss right between his eyes.  Did you just get a smooch? she announced, naming the deed with glee.  Yup yup, you got a smooch!  Have another!  She repeated the kiss between his eyes, her tiny lips leaving a splattering of sparkles where they touched. 

Larry turned to Orinda.  Please, help me.  You must do something! 

The gnome crossed her short arms and gave a regretful sigh.  Sorry, but I'm afraid you're quite doomed.  She isn't going to stop until it passes all on its own.  To reinforce the issue, Rosalind was flashing happily on top of his head, frolicking through his hair.  Her cheerful sounds and giggling sighs didn't diminish. 

Dragus Ironboot remained silent.  In fact, he took a careful step backwards, giving a slow solemn salute.  Larry the void walker wouldn't be physically harmed, but the overdose of unexpected loving attention coupled with playful affection wouldn't be easy to escape.  The poor fellow might have to endure an entire season's worth of being merrily cuddled, probably to the point of near insanity. 

Rosalind landed herself on Larry's shoulder, one hand gently tugging his earlobe.  She was totally focused on him while Dragus made his escape, getting well out of sight.  One never knew where a pixie's crush might go next.  As for now, the pixie's question at the void walker was laced with high affection.  What's your name, sweetie?

Um, he replied carefully.  Larry.  Hey, I got to know where this starport is going to go.  Can you come back another, err, time? 

Her happy sigh was uncomfortably loud that close to his ear.  Larry?  That rhymes with hairy.  Or scary.  She shook her head in rejection for a moment before lighting up with happiness.  It rhymes with berry!  I love a good berry!  I also love a good Larry!  Hey, Berry Larry, mister quite contrary, would you like my help with your starport thingy? 

Vorigar couldn't stand it, the powerful dragon forced himself to look away.  The fear that started spreading on Larry's face was a natural incentive for booming dragon laughter.  Nothing was more hilarious to one of his kind than a frightened human. 

Orinda made her suggestion carefully.  She didn't think her own realm would be accepting, but at least the void walker could ask.  Go to the realm of gnomes.  Find out if they would like a starport built on their section of our world.  We like interesting new things, especially of a mechanical nature.  Couldn't hurt to ask. 

How do I get there? Larry desperately demanded, hoping to flee the over affectionate pixie somehow.  He couldn't have been more wrong.  All hope of escaping Rosalind went out as easily as a naked candle during hurricane force winds. 

I'll get you there, darling! Rosalind bravely yelled, as if facing an enemy rather than taking her brand new reluctant sweetheart on an unexpected journey.  She quickly fluttered in circles around him, casting one of her many gate spells that pixies were so good at creating.  Off we go! 

The gate opened up under Larry's feet, dropping him through the magically created hole with a dwindling holler.  Rosalind feigned panic, knowing what she did quite on purpose.  If he didn't return the affection, she would make him adore her with a timely rescue.  Which is why she opened the gate five hundred feet above ground on the other end. 

Rosalind shouted down through the open magical doorway, I'm coming, honey!  I'll catch you!  She sped downward.  The portal closed with a crackling snap. 

Orinda spread her small gnomish hands before Vorigar, trying without success to conjure any regret.  I'm terribly sorry, but I just can't feel bad for a void walker. 

Vorigar merely nodded his large serpentine head, silently agreeing with his friend. 

Chapter Two

PRESIDENT MISTY HAVEN regarded herself carefully in the full length mirror.  A business suit complete with a narrow string tie gave her a more modern if not conservative appearance.  She still didn't like it very much.  Removing the string tie and opening her collar by two buttons, she let the form fitting jacket stay open.  Much better.  With long blonde curls spilling about her shoulders, she reflected on the last three months within her sapphire blue eyes.

Her life as Ariella Misthaven on Valinthia felt more like a myth than actual reality.  Chaotic wish magic did away with that old identity, creating her anew by utilizing every ounce of power within her previous form.  Memories from that past life became nothing more than a dream, fading away with every moment while awake.  Instead of being the elected leader of the magically endowed humans on Valinthia, she's now the elected leader of the entire galaxy.  What a hell of a career jump. 

Living on Galactopolis - a vast space station spanning hundreds of square miles  - opened her eyes to the larger universe surrounding Valinthia.  Assembled centuries ago by dozens of different interstellar races to host the galaxy's ruling body, the huge place had the capacity to support millions of living beings. 

Dang it, she realized her lipstick was too red for comfort.  She swabbed it off and put on a lighter shade.  As she gently applied glossy lip balm to seal the color, her thoughts drifted to the last politician who held her office.  Adrian Cole.  His impeachment over buying and invading a planet that could strike back at Galactopolis was more than just lucky.  While she couldn't prove it, the wish magic probably opened up that avenue for her to rise quicker.  Official records suddenly appeared with her new name on them.  Political affiliations, even events she never really attended sat rooted within her mind like any other real memory.  She could mentally picture the people and various alien races who actually attended those functions, just as much as they suddenly recalled her presence.  It was magic.

A real, functioning magic that's still relatively unknown to the wider universe.  Getting that across to anybody in Galactopolis was akin to yanking out her own teeth with a pair of red hot pliers.  She had never met so many scoffers, idiots and downright rude politicians who only believed in what their fat wallets could purchase.  They weren't interested in things or places like the dreaded Adrian Cole.  He purchased Valinthia through a Profit Manager to fatten his personal wallet.  Most of the other politicians only sought to buy opinions, votes, ideals and sometimes the occasional crime. 

She reassessed the image she projected in the mirror one final time  Behind her in another room sat an evil individual who made an appointment to discuss policy aboard the station.  She didn't want to appear sleazy or easy by accident.  That's the wrong image to have in the high office of president.  Most certainly the wrong kind of image for that damned man out there. 

This would have to do.  She turned and entered the office through the convenience door, slid behind her desk and sat down.  Her eyes raked over the seated figure before her, his own black business suit looking sharp under a pair of bright green eyes.  She hated him with every living fiber in her being.  In this place where the good of the many aren't protected by individuals, a set of protective laws are often enforced instead.  Such laws were well intended, but have been long corrupted by its own greed infested system.  Not a single law focused on stopping the black arts of necromancy this very man practiced.

Raphael returned a wary smile to her sudden frown, raven black hair neatly cut and trimmed to go with the businessman image he wished to convey.  Nothing he wore was close to white.  Black jacket, black tie, black pants and shoes.  The only thing resembling a different color was his shirt.  It was a sapphire blue.  Such a thing did not impress her.  He may have modernized himself in the last three months, but the evil in his green eyes didn't change. 

I should have you arrested, Misty half threatened.  Some women have gone missing.  Others have left their husbands in divorce, only to be seen with you all over the damn city.  Then she vanishes too.  This isn't Valinthia.  They'll catch on soon enough to your nature.  You'll end up being hunted like the monster you are. 

He placed a clutching hand over his heart while retaining his dark smile.  I'm dying from worry, he flatly stated.  I can produce each and everyone of those so-called missing women.  Name any day or time.  They'll come forward and vouch for me. 

Of course they would, Misty knew that already.  In fact, she prepared for this very meeting weeks ago, when his name appeared on the appointment calender.  It allowed her time to get ready for his antics; to put the dark creature in his place once and for all.  Keeping her features from betraying any emotion, she reached under her desk and pulled out the modified blaster pistol from a concealed holster.  The sleek metal gun looked too big for her slender hand, but she controlled where it aimed easily enough. 

Raphael's green eyes didn't widen or become afraid.  In fact, they crinkled on the corners in high amusement.  Even though you know that weapon won't really hurt me, my bodyguard doesn't like having me threatened. 

Behind him a column of black mist appeared.  Within seconds the smokey tendrils vanished, producing a pretty red headed woman wearing a sexy black evening dress.  She scowled at Misty something fierce.  Displaying fang tips under her top lip, the vampire put a comforting hand on her master's shoulder.  Raphael patted it, a mock effort to soothe his loyal undead bodyguard. 

Misty raised her chin at the woman and asked, Which one are you? 

Directly addressed, the vampire almost snarled her reply.  Victoria Clark, you heart breaking bitch.  Her undead eyes flickered to the blaster pistol.  That has no power over us.  Put it away before you hurt yourself. 

Misty giggled, which highly puzzled Raphael.  The President of the Galaxy leveled the blaster pistol and pointed it directly at the undead bodyguard.  Victoria Clark, you've been dead for more than a month now.  I told your husband that several times before he finally believed it.  Now I can put your enslaved soul to rest.  Misty squeezed the trigger. 

There was no blue ion thump, absent was the angry red twang of a proton bolt.  A gentle hum issued forth instead; a hollow pale shaft of yellow light bathed the vampire bodyguard from the top down.  Where the soft light touched, Victoria Clark was instantly rendered into fine ash.  She was gone in a mere second by the fast sweeping beam. 

Raphael didn't react very well.  He jumped out of his chair and backed up, face wild with growing anger.  What in the hell did you just do? 

Misty's smile grew.  Oh stuff it, Raph.  I know there's no sun near this space station.  The artificial dome lights doesn't harm your undead sluts anymore than an ion blaster.  So I had the science division put this interesting thing together.  What should I name it?  Erase-a-vamp?  End-a-nightmare?  I can't call it kill-a-woman.  She turned the modified blaster on her own arm and fired again.  The light didn't injure her.  See?  Mildly warm at best.  Her lips went straight as a sword blade in reproach.  If I was you, I would turn myself in.  Those poor women you're killing need to be put to rest. 

Raphael's accusation was harsh.  No, President Misty, I didn't kill Victoria Clark.  You killed her just now, right in front of me.  This is far from over between us.  His bright green eyes grew black.  The inky darkness they emitted flashed over his whole body.  As the darkness faded seconds later, the unscrupulous necromancer was gone. 

Misty exhaled with relief while putting the modified blaster on her desk.  Jeremy Winters, her appointed security chief, walked into the room wearing a frown.  He was tasked with video recording the entire meeting at her request.  His skills at planting the concealed cameras from every possible angle was high.  Not a single lens was visible throughout the whole office. 

He could be considered right, he warned his president.  Victoria was walking and talking before you literally erased her with the artificially generated sunlight. 

Misty gave him a sidelong glance.  You did read the security file I sent to your division, right? 

Of course, he easily replied, remaining calm.  It doesn't change certain facts. 

She crossed her arms while leaning back against the large desk.  All of a sudden, she felt like a school teacher again.  She also fought back an internal shiver over that displaced history.  She still lectured him.  Here's a fact you fail to remember.  In order to become a vampire, you must first die.  Death.  As in goodbye life.  She waved goodbye to an imaginary victim.  If Raphael wanted it, Victoria would have killed you.  Not by shooting or strangling you.  She would have sucked every drop of blood from your cold dead corpse.  By the next night, your corpse would get up and follow Raphael anywhere he went, doing whatever it is he wants.  Is this not an evil threat to you? 

Jeremy's grin was slow in coming, finally nodding once when it was clear he was supporting her.  Forgive me, President.  I'm still recording, I knew what your answer would be.  The public needs to hear it from your lips as well.  The last thing you want is some political opponent taking a written disclosure out of context. 

Misty took a moment to rub her brow.  Political opponent?  Is that all you people ever think about around here?  A menace unlike any kind you've ever faced is loose on Galactopolis, and all you can focus on is politics? 

Jeremy spreads his hands slowly, his plastic professional smile identical to every other politician Misty ever met.  As your security chief and political adviser, my job would be hollow if I didn't.  His eyes flickered towards the spot the necromancer vanished.  As for him and his ilk, I'll leave that to the authorities. 

Misty's return smile was tired, but sincere.  I just hope they do something soon.  Until he's caught and dealt with, I dare not visit home.  This is Raphael's new playground.  I won't allow his evil to mature any further.  She started pacing.  Speaking of home, how is everything going on that account?

I'm not sure, he confessed, puzzlement adding a tint of humanity to the practiced mask of an elected servant.  The construction ships left dock last week.  Until we hear back, I assume all is going well. 

Misty started laughing, quickly got herself under control.  With the war against Valinthia called off only three months ago, the only real challenges left were cultural relations with their new intergalactic friends.  Some part of her wished to be there while another part wanted to run in the opposite direction.  The new President of the Galaxy knew all too well the differences between her people and the rest of the universe.  They weren't minor.  Not in the least.

Chapter Three

THE SOUNDS FROM dozens of banging hammers and wood-chewing saws couldn't drown the ache out of the heart of Jasra Songweaver.  The school yard didn't suffer any direct damage from the orbital strike in their recent history.  The winds that arrived when Harbor Town was reduced to a crater knocked the empty school over.  Now it was almost completely rebuilt, but not without effort. 

Tinybomb Bigblast was a gnome of exceptional talents in the art of pyromancy.  The two and a half foot high teacher did his best to comfort the human bard.  He liked the way she wore her black curly hair - short and sassy.  Not for the first time, he wished the tall slender human was a lady gnome he could court. 

One of the sweat covered workers was a volunteer void walker, a man named Corey Turner.  With short wavy brown hair and blue eyes, women tended to turn their heads when he strolled by.  He paused to reach for a drink inside what he called a 'cooler' though the bard nor the pyromancer could see anything cold about it. 

He noticed Jasra's despair and offered her a plastic bottle filled with a blue colored liquid.  Want one? 

What is it? Tinybomb asked, instantly suspicious.  He simply didn't trust void walkers, knew full well what kind of destruction they were capable of during the war.  What the old enemy might consider good may very well be a bad thing. 

Vitamin water, he casually replied, shrugging.  She looks rather unhappy.  I figured I could cheer her up since I've been hired to teach here. 

That got a reaction from Jasra!  What?  Just what do you think you'll be teaching us, mister Turner?  Evilness? 

Oh my, Corey said to nobody in particular.  Looks like folks around here still carry a grudge.  Sorry I offered.  He turned to pick up his hammer. 

Wait, Jasra called out, getting him pause.  I didn't mean to be rude.  I'm missing a dear friend of mine.  I just wish she was here.  It was wrong of me to snap at you.  As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to kick herself.  Attractive man or not, she merely didn't have time for this type of foolishness. 

Tinybomb mumbled under his breath, No it's not.  He got a hidden but playful shove by Jasra.  It wasn't enough to budge the powerful pyromancer, but he got the message.  He quickly fluttered his large eyes and did his best to appear friendly. 

Corey grinned, wiping his hands off after putting the hammer and drink back down.  I can understand your reaction, it's only been three months since that awful war ended.  It's nice to meet a fellow teacher.  He offered to shake hands and Jasra obliged.  I'm going to be teaching electronics.  Your principal, Xarduvik, thought it would be a good idea. 

I see, Jasra cautiously replied, doing her best to remain neutral.  Electronics.  Interesting.  After saying the word, Jasra decided she didn't like the sound of it.  Tinybomb waggled his hand, his thumb ending up on the downside.  Jasra finished her evaluation as politely as she could, which was to say she offered it with a mixture of candor and mild sarcasm.  Sounds useful to a bunch of idiots, perhaps.  Here on Valinthia, such weirdness doesn't need to be utilized. 

Instead of being offended, Corey raised an eyebrow.  He surprised Jasra with nothing but pure support.  You couldn't have said it any better.  What we accomplished with electronics can't measure up to how your people can control the unknown energy from your star. 

Tinybomb on the other hand, took offense.  Hey, it's not some unknown energy.  Or strange particles.  Or weird radiation.  It's called, he leaned forward, crinkling his fingers with a wicked look on his face, magic! 

Corey tilted his head while raising his eyebrow even farther.  Magic doesn't exist.  It's biological science that fuels your abilities through a controllable energy signature. 

Tinybomb formed a fireball in his open palm.  He held it out as if handing over an apple.  Magic. 

Corey took a cigarette lighter out of his pocket and lit it, waving it around.  Science. 

Tinybomb's upper lip curled as he expanded the small fireball to twice its size.  Magic! 

Corey turned up the gas dial on the lighter, making his flame twice as big.  Science! 

Jasra stepped between them.  Knock it off you two, right now! 

Tinybomb's fireball vanished just as quickly as Corey extinguished his lighter.  Both of them looked like two tough kids caught bullying each other.  Delivering the evil eye back and forth, they did their best to look calm, none of which fooled the pretty bard one little bit. 

Just what do you two think you're doing? Jasra scolded them both.  She turned her glare on Tinybomb.  Perhaps Xarduvik was right in hiring him as a teacher.  We obviously need to learn to respect a discipline other than our own!  Her frosty gaze found Corey next.  You sir, need to have more of an open mind!  We may not use your terminology or form of power, but that doesn't make ours any less valid!  Her next potent statement was delivered to them both.  Now if you two are done making an unnecessary scene, can we get back to work fixing our school? 

Corey didn't waste a heartbeat to score points with the pretty lady.  You're right, I apologize.  I shouldn't have been so stubborn.  I will endeavor to keep my mind open, as you suggest. 

Not wanting to be outdone by the void walker, Tinybomb performed an elaborate bow to Jasra as he replied, You're quite right, Lady Jasra.  We should work together to fix the school so our students may return.  My temper won't slip again in your presence. 

Uh uh, Jasra said, keeping her tone artificially light.  Sorry fellas, I'm not falling for it.  Corey, you work over there.  She pointed with a raised eyebrow.  Tinybomb, you work that way.  She directed him to the opposite side. 

Wow, Corey observed with growing respect for the bard's wits.  You don't miss much of anything, do you?  Wait.  He opened his cooler.  Here, as a peace offering to Tinybomb.  This is the best vitamin water credits can buy.  Have one, my new friend.  We're going to be working together when this school is fixed, I don't want to make any negative waves here.  He held out the chilled plastic bottle to the gnome. 

Tinybomb's face lit up with genuine surprise.  An expensive drink?  He was game for anything that would slake thirst while working through the afternoon.  Why thank you, Corey.  The offer is unexpected, but welcome.  I'm sorry I snapped at you.  He accepted the bottle and looked at the label with curiosity.  I can't read this, but if it's pricey, it should be good.  He twisted the top off.

Jasra started to relax, the situation seemed to be working out at last.  She regarded the new teacher with different eyes, felt that deep down she was too harsh a judge.  That's a kind gesture.  It looks like there's hope for you after all. 

Corey's growing grin turned upside down into a large frown.  Shock