The Ballad of Omega Brown:
Omega and the Mark of Doom
by Tom Vaine
|
Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3 |
conclusion
The plaque showed the same short scene over and over again. Omega could see a forge. It had to be one. At one end, a figure stood, hammering and shaping, pouring his attention into the piece before him. The bellows besides the smith were massive, but there was another device that drew Omega’s eye. It was like a funnel set above and behind the working figure, with the narrow end hanging just above the anvil. The wide end reached up, extending past the edge of the plaque. There were designs on the device, stars and constellations. One of the designs looked startlingly like Omega’s mark. Whatever the picture was meant to represent, it looked like something that was being added to the smith’s work.
Omega spun, scanning the room. He thought he’d heard something just now, a voice maybe, but the room was empty. After a moment, he moved on to the next plaque.
The scene here was simple. Omega could see the symbol on his hand clearly at the top of the plaque. Below it, set above a field of moving flame, stood a sword. Anxiety flooded Omega as he saw it, but there was adrenaline as well, a rush that kept him fixated. It was powerful, that thing, elegant and deadly, but more than an object. It made him nervous to think about, but he couldn’t look away. Omega fought this compulsion but his vision swam, darkening.
When he could see properly again, Omega found himself lying in the aisles between the display pedestals. He jolted upright. The plaque he had just seen was behind him now, a few feet away. He had no idea how he’d moved, but he was facing the monolith.
There was something at play here, that was obvious. If it were a defense mechanism of some kind, he would be dead by now. No, it had to be something in the room that wanted to communicate with him. The plaque had shown the scar on his hand. That exact image. Omega went back to it, but the picture would no longer respond. He moved to the next.
There were many swords in this depiction. Omega could see six figures holding similar blades above their heads. Despite their imperious stance, each face kept changing emotions. Omega could see pride, anger, fear. Above them all, their blades began to change as well. A cat’s eye opened at the point where the hilt met the handle on each. The eyes glowed above the figures below, the slender blades crackling with energy, ensorcelled. As the image began to fade, Omega thought he saw the faces of the men and women holding the swords become frenzied, hysterical, then they were all featureless.
He heard his name this time, he was sure of it, but it wasn’t the image that was fading. It was his vision again. He reeled, fighting to stay upright, groping for the walls, but his fingers found nothing. He was spinning now, and felt like he was falling even though his feet were still under him. He hit something that crumbled and he staggered. On his knees, Omega’s vision began to brighten once more.
The monolith was before him. About halfway up, Omega could see the symbol from his scar. Below that, a portion of blade protruded, the crossguard and handle within reach.
Of course, Omega thought. He reached for the sword hilt.
He felt the other’s presence immediately. Like some great hibernating thing, it stirred as he drew the blade. Hefting it, Omega looked at the crossguard as the cat’s eye fluttered a little, and snapped open.
Awake. Awakened. The voice was in Omega’s head, but he felt surrounded by it as well.
“Open yourself to me.”
Omega’s knees buckled, his vision darkening as it had before.
“At last, a seeker to heed my call; another wanderer, tired of the incompetence you see around you. You seek power, crave it. I will make you strong! Know this: I am Kazar-Kai, Lord of Entropy, Betrayal Incarnate. My brothers and I were given shape and deadly purpose as Ruinblades. The time has come to serve that purpose once more.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will learn.”
Though Omega’s body didn’t move, he felt himself rising up, his mind flung across time and space.
* * *
Hoonra tested the restraints again, but it was no use. Beside her, two Drones remained to activate the devices around her seat. The rest had left after she surrendered.
“They have other jobs to do, now that we have you in place.” The Dreamer had remained visible to her throughout the process.
“I can read your thoughts, you know. I did the same thing to Omega when I first met him. You were closed to me then, Hoonra, or I might have guessed your worth.” The Dreamer traced the lines of Hoonra’s scar. “Things are different now.”
“Omega will find me.”
“Will he? How? And how do you know my trap didn’t kill him after all?” When Hoonra didn’t answer, she continued. “Oh, Hoonra. Our beliefs define our reality, don’t they? Trust me, I know better than most. Your faith in him is so strong. I have to say, I envy that; gods kill each other for that sort of devotion.”
For the first time since her capture, Hoonra met The Dreamer’s eye. “You are no god.”
“No? Well, if not, I’m close enough to count.” As she spoke, two large pieces of machinery were moved into position at Hoonra’s temples. Their humming made the Karackian’s head hurt, her vision blur. The Dreamer continued, “There’s little point in denying it, my dear. I am your new god, and you my new High Priestess. You have been chosen for me.” Again, she touched Hoonra’s scar.
Hoonra found it difficult to focus. The machines buzzed louder, still picking up speed, and she felt as if she were being pulled into them somehow, her prodigious strength draining away. Through chattering teeth, she strained to speak.
“Omega will—”
“Omega already has, my dear.” The Dreamer stepped back as she spoke. It seemed to Hoonra like the rest of the world fell away; she could only see the child now. “Like you, Omega has been chosen to serve a higher purpose.”
The Dreamer reached forward to place her open palm on Hoonra’s forehead. “To my worshippers, my name is Lyra,” she whispered. Hoonra could do nothing to escape her touch. Again, that deep sense of disorientation, but worse: she felt like an insect swept by a surging river, consumed.
Just when she felt she might lose herself completely, Hoonra heard an explosion. Someone was coming down the catwalk. Despite the strain she felt, she gave a weak laugh. “I told you he’d come.” Lyra removed her hand and scowled. The Drones moved out onto the catwalk, lasers ready. Two blasts from a ray gun sliced through them. As if he’d planned the whole thing from the beginning, Omega leapt into the chamber. Before Lyra could speak, he fired at the pod above Hoonra. Lyra screamed and disappeared, and an electrical fire began spreading through the equipment. The restraints holding Hoonra snapped open.
“This place is coming down; we don’t have much time.” Omega motioned for her, but Hoonra was up and ready, sword in hand.
“Thank you, Omega.”
“Thank me on the Buccaneer. Let’s get out while it’s still an option.” The pair raced up the catwalks, Omega leading the way.
* * *
Omega strode through the carcass of a battle frigate. The wall ahead had been blasted away, and hillocks and craters spread out across the moonscape before him. Other ships had likewise crashed, and the whole field swarmed with combatants.
Omega jumped from the wreckage to land amongst a group of Drones, the Ruinblade humming in his hand. He scattered them, firing his ray gun into one and another before swinging Kazar-Kai neatly through a third. The sword howled as it rent the machine, and Omega wasn’t sure if he heard metal shearing metal, or the insane laughter of a dead god. He didn’t care. When those Drones were too mangled to provide any further sport, Omega moved on. Laser blasts glanced off his armour, and Kazar-Kai whispered in his mind.
No more odd jobs for Omega Brown, no more Federation contracts, no more getting stranded or haggling for half-assed repairs. No more fixing other people’s mistakes. No more need for a bodyguard. With Kazar-Kai at his side, Omega knew he’d have the power to achieve whatever he wanted. The universe would remember the name of Kazar-Kai, and he would reap the rewards.
Omega wasn’t sure how long he lay on the reliquary floor. Eventually, he remembered himself, and stood. There wasn’t much time now. Kazar-Kai warned him about what was coming next. It would be a near thing, but Omega knew he could make it. He left, heading back to the place where he’d seen the Drones earlier.
His body left healed, strong. When he found the checkpoint defended, he did what came naturally. He was among them before they knew he was there, his laughter loud and harsh when he saw the truth of what the Ruinblade promised. He demolished them, and Kazar-Kai pushed his feet over the pile of rubble and out into the Cirellan desert.
He didn’t stop until he came to a fissure amongst the rocks. He could feel the sword vibrating in his hand, and figures began to emerge from the hole. They were Shifters, and they fell to their knees as soon as they saw the blade. My good servants echoed through his head, and Omega wondered just how long these things had been out here, waiting.
“Show me my inheritance!” Omega demanded, and the words sounded like two voices speaking at once. The creatures turned to obey, and the man that Omega Brown had become allowed himself to be shown the very dangerous bounty which Kazar-Kai had so carefully hidden beneath the planet’s surface.
* * *
Hoonra stared blankly forward. From behind the misted pane of the incubator, the real Lyra considered her prize. She could feel the Karackian sinking more and more deeply into the fantasy she’d created. With her new High Priestess secured, she was ready for the final step, and not a moment too soon.
Lyra could no longer sense Omega even vaguely, which meant that he must have found her brother as she’d guessed he would. She would need to hurry if she still planned to keep Kazar-Kai imprisoned in the temple vault.
After her Keeper had surrendered her to her ancient servants, the Hive had informed her about what had happened on the science station. Lyra hadn’t known that Kazar-Kai had been so clever in hiding his remaining servants, and she had decided it would be better to leave her sibling in the dark about the return of their power. Their conspiracy had come so close to working the first time, but Kazar-Kai, by his nature, could not be trusted. There was no reason she could see for telling him that two Prime Acolytes had been recruited; he’d only start scheming again if he knew. It was true that Omega had been chosen for Entropy, but what did that matter? She had her own Acolyte now, and Harmony would reign supreme. She wouldn’t allow any other outcomes.
Lyra could sense the power running through the structure around her, feeding her strength and belief from her most important supplicant. She took a deep breath and, testing the machine, willed her body to change. Once she was transformed into the girl Hoonra had envisioned, she examined herself, pleased.
“Finally, we can begin.”
* * *
See Cirella in its final moments before the change, the weal about to burst. It begins in the city foundations. Energy hums, firing though ancient cables, activating long-dormant machines. Soon entire sections of the foundation begin to vibrate, but only the people of the lower levels sense this disturbance. For them, and everyone else, there is no escape. The buried temple, which is not just a temple, activates its engines, drawing power from the planet’s core. Lyra’s temple begins to lift, pulling apart Cirella City and destabilizing the planet’s surface.
Inside, Lyra can feel her power growing, can sense the panic and pain of thousands of life forms believing in her for the first time in millenia. She grants them a small mercy, wiping their minds to idiocy so that they cannot properly comprehend what comes next. She could save them, but their fear, their belief is so intoxicating, and she’s waited so long. Better their deaths serve a purpose.
She reaches out with her thoughts, but the entity she seeks is already in motion. A warship, huge and gothic, heaving up from the desert barrens. She envisions the ship’s engines failing, but her Brother is ready. She doesn’t know how he summons the strength to defy her, but his ship blasts off, leaving her slower, more encumbered vessel behind.
Lyra’s scream is that of a petulant child, and the people of Cirella feel it, crying out even as she does. Kazar-Kai is free.
As Kazar-Kai and Omega’s warship enter the atmosphere, Lyra’s temple begins its final push. Kilometers of the city are laid to waste as the juggernaut drags debris up with it. Finally, the great pyramid is clear, carving its way back into the wider galaxy.
As Lyra reaches orbit, she loses sense of where her Brother has gone. He’s left the system or is just about to, and she knows she will not catch him now. The Gods’ War would be renewed.
Lyra turns her attention back to Cirella. Concentrating, drawing on the energy provided by Hoonra, and now by the fear she’s created in the planet’s citizens, Lyra begins shaping.
The Drones had been the invention of her Sisters. Perfectly loyal, deeply obedient, but ultimately unworthy. They had an intelligence of their own, certainly, but the faith produced by weighing statistics and data did not match what a congregation of living souls could do. The people of Cirella would be her new vassals, and Hoonra first among them. They would not be the last.
They would be obedient. They would serve. Lyra would be their new master.
* * *
[Author’s note] Power! Betrayal! Entrapment! Whatever will become of our wayward heroes now? See what twists of fate rest in store for them (and us) in the next episode of The Ballad of Omega Brown: Gods’ War!
Copyright © 2022 by Tom Vaine
