The roar of the deep forges was the only heartbeat Rhask had ever known. A constant, heavy rhythm that throbbed through the obsidian walls of the citadel.
Lately, it sounded like war drums.
His father's summons had been abrupt, a single sharp chime.
Rhask strode along the Grand Overwalk. He passed the banners snapping in the air: his clan's obsidian claw outnumbered by the split peak of their rivals. The Mountain-Breaker Clan. Gorth's clan.
He's growing bold, Rhask thought.
Two guards in the crimson armor of Gorth's allies watched him pass. They did not lower their heads. Their lack of respect was a silent challenge. Rhask ignored it, jaw clenched.
His father preached peace and patience. But out here, peace was beginning to look very much like weakness.
He found High Lord Kaelen in the observatory, a dome of smoked glass that looked out over the black, industrial haze of Vorlag's sky.
His father was not watching the heavens. He was staring intently at a holographic image floating in the center of the chamber.
It was a drifting ship.
—The patrol craft Vigilance —his father said, his voice like deep thunder—. Found adrift by Void Nomads.
The ship's hull was intact, but a strange frost of gray crystal coated its surface.
—What happened to the crew? —Rhask asked.
—Judge for yourself.
Kaelen magnified the image, focusing on the ship's bridge. The crew was still there, frozen at their stations.
They were not bodies. They were statues. Their forms locked inside rough gray crystal. Their faces trapped forever in a silent scream.
A chill that had nothing to do with space touched Rhask's soul. —Who did this?
—No one knows —Kaelen said, his eyes dark—. There was no battle. No energy signatures. Only silence.
The High Lord turned to face him. —Gorth and his allies are blind. They see only old enemies, old wars. I see a new shadow looming over the Three Worlds.
He held out a small data crystal.
—This cannot be ignored. You will go to the Nomad station, Rustport. Find out what they know. And while you are there, secure a new supply of Archaic Shards for our clan. Gorth has been buying them, preparing for a war he intends to start.
The mission was clear. A spy's errand. A game of shadows.
—I will not fail —said Rhask, taking the crystal.
As he turned to leave, a figure blocked his path. Torvin, son of Gorth. They were of the same age, had trained together, but the rift between their fathers had made them rivals.
—Chasing ghost stories for your father, Rhask? —Torvin sneered—. A real war is coming. A war to restore our honor. You'd best choose your side carefully.
Before Rhask could reply, a piercing siren echoed through the citadel. This was no drill.
The massive wall-screens flickered crimson red.
TRIAD ALERT – CRISIS LEVEL
TREATY BROKEN – CONFIRMED
LYRAN AMBASSADOR ASSASSINATED ON KAELON
FLEETS ON THE MOVE