Vissarion: A Dark Sight Novel #3 Read online

  Max scowled. He disliked when the woman talked in riddles

  But Aurelia just chuckled. “Xales is tasked with guarding the pythia and also with the protection of the Immunis to a certain extent.”

  Max had to force his mouth closed.

  A magical boar was going to protect him in case he was in danger.

  Could things get any more crazy than that?

  Chapter 7

  At the age of sixteen, and before shipping off to army training, Max had spent one last summer at the estate in Argentina.

  And his last visit there had ended on a surprising note.

  Two years had passed that seen Max training under Aurelia’s various tutors. His lifestyle had been rigorous and stressful, and he’d worked harder than he’d ever thought himself capable. But he’d begun to wonder why.

  He was Immunis, and connected to the line of the Pythia’s by virtue of his ability to repel their sight, but he’d still not been told what it meant in the greater scheme of things. Max had spent the last two years learning to interpret Aurelia’s prophecies, growing to understand the nuances of the old woman’s expression.

  Her foretellings were done in Latin, and sometimes in Ancient Greek, and she’d taught him to remember every word, and to guide her with the correct questions. It hadn’t taken long before he’d sat beside her when the representatives of the New Germanic States Army visited.

  The contingent was led by a man of impressive bearing, a Commander Cornelius Aulus who had walked into the reception room of Aurelia’s manor, his presence seeming to dominate the entire hall. Mara, Aurelia’s handmaiden, who was most definitely no maiden, and absolutely not a servant, had apprised Max of who and what Aulus was.

  A rising star in the NGS army, Aulus had been selected as a representative to the Pythia on behalf of the NGS government. He’d come with the stamp of approval of the NGS senate and the president.

  Max had stood off to one side, watching the man with trepidation.

  “Are you afraid of him?” asked Mara with a bland smile. Her gray eyes sparkled as she watched his face, as if his reaction was of great importance.

  Max hesitated. He was tempted to deny his fear, but then he thought better of it. A man without fear is a reckless man. And Max intended to never be reckless. So he sighed and said, “Yes. I am. His bearing, the power in his body language…even if I didn’t know who he was or who he worked for, it would be easy to understand that he is a man who commanded power.”

  “He’s moving up in the ranks. Well-respected across all the world senates and governing boards.” Mara sighed. “He’s descended from the Moorish slaves, of Ethiopian stock to hear him tell it. And, though not many know this, his maternal line can be traced back to a Pythia from the tenth century.”

  Now that had surprised Max. “So the representatives to the Pythia must bear her genetic stock? Or is it merely an advantage to be of the lineage.”

  Mara smiled and shook her head. “Merely an advantage. Although I must admit that it seems strange that a man of his standing would want to be the delegate to the Pythia.” Then the old woman chuckled. “I want to be in the room when she tells him.”

  “Tells him what?” Max asked.

  But he didn’t get an answer. Instead, Mara grabbed his ear and shuffled off, pulling him along with her. Max’s sharp “Ow, that hurts,” was thankfully muffled by the rise in conversation as the delegation was let through to meet Aurelia.

  Max tugged his ear free and rubbed it, scowling at Mara who just beckoned him closer. Clearly, according to the old handmaiden, he wasn’t too old to have his ear pinched. He followed closely and wound his way between the gathered contingent who were being shown to small stone benches arranged in an oval.

  Aurelia had a flair for the dramatic, but Max was of the opinion that she’d already done so much for the world that she deserved some of her eccentricities. Mara directed Max to stand at Aurelia’s right-hand side while she positioned herself at the oracle’s left. Commander Aulus was being led to his position at the first bench on Aurelia’s left, and Max wondered at how Mara had allocated him so he could see Aulus’s face clearly.

  Later he would understand why.

  Chapter 8

  Mara called the meeting to order in her shaky, croaky voice and Max had to hide a smile. She handed the meeting over to Aurelia who tipped her head at Aulus. “Welcome to my humble home, Commander Aulus. And I extend my welcome to your contingent.” The world held a tiny inflection, a hint of criticism that he’d come on such ceremony.

  The last delegation from the Indus, and even before that from Kemet, had both been simple, small affairs that Aurelia had easily commandeered and reduced to something a little less formal than the signatories had expected. Here, with Aulus’s deputies and underlings all garbed in formal regalia, Aurelia was no doubt uncomfortable as for all intents and purposes, with his weapons and show of might, he’d established himself as the stronger of the two.

  Not the best foot to put forward, Max thought. But then he’d grown to know Aurelia very well in the passing years. Now he was on tenterhooks, waiting to find out what Mara had hinted would possibly upset the Commander.

  Aulus was bowing, paying his respects to Aurelia. “My colleagues and staff wished to be here too, to pay their respects.”

  Aurelia smiled and waved a hand to the members of her personal guard who stood around the room, stationed at intervals and bearing long-staffed spears, they were not present merely for decoration. Each and every one of them were skilled swordsmen and women, and fighters.

  The two who guarded the door opened it in a flourish, and Mara bent to speak in Aulus’s ear. Whatever she said the man, it sent the blood rushing to his face. His skin darkened to nearly black, and his eyes widened. His jaw pulsed as he appeared to struggle with something. After a few moments, he turned to his second in command, and spoke a word in his ear.

  The 2IC as well seemed surprised, but he stood to his feet, tucked his helmet under his arm and walked off. Though he didn’t give any signal that Max could see, the rest of the contingent got to their feet and followed the man out.

  Max wasn’t sure whose power he admired more now, that of Aulus or of Aurelia the Oracle of Pythia.

  Aulus watched his men leave and only when the door had shut behind them did he shift his attention to the old seer. “I apologize if I acted without forethought.”

  Mara cackled. “The previous liaison to the Pythia knew full well what her preferences are. She does not like the pomp and circumstance that comes with large delegations such as this one.”

  Aulus had the grace to bow his head instead of responding with what he was thinking. Max was certain from the flash of anger he’d seen in the man’s eyes, that he’d not appreciated the dismissal of his team. But, Max had to hope he’d appreciate that their removal had been done tactfully and without antagonism.

  Aurelia was waving Mara off, bringing Max’s attention back to the conversation. “I am concerned though, Commander Aulus,” she said, her tone devoid of emotion. “I had requested the opportunity to choose a specific person to liaise with. But it seems my request was denied. And I wasn’t informed of that denial.”

  Aulus shook his head and frowned, but Max detected a tightening in the man’s features. “Again, I must apologize. I fear it must be a miscommunication as I was not informed of this request. I’m afraid everything had been put in place already with regard to my attachment as liaison.”

  Aurelia tilted her head. “My dear young man. Are you saying that I have no choice in the matter? Because if you are, then I have to admit I would be quite taken aback. Every other country in the world allows me to have some input in the decision as to who their delegate will be. I am, after all, the person who can see into the future. It has always been a requirement, Commander Aulus. And I am more than disappointed that my request has been dismissed like the wishes of a foolish old woman would be.” Aurelia’s voice had risen, and with every octave she scaled, Aulus grew
more uncomfortable.

  She paused as though she was taking a breath, but Aulus replied, “I must sincerely apologize, my Lady. I will return immediately and investigate your request. We will ensure we find someone who you feel is more suited to the role.” Aulus’s voice was tight, and hard. The sound of a man deeply offended and whose ire was steadily rising.

  “Oh calm yourself, dear boy. What’s done is done. I will not allow you to lose face by leaving me only to have a replacement sent out in your stead. I will agree to a one-year period in which you will groom the person I have chosen to be your liaison.”

  Aulus’s eyebrows rose. It was clear the man didn’t feel Aurelia bore the right to make such a choice, but short of causing an international incident, the commander had little choice but to comply. No doubt he’d return to his superiors and attempt to overturn Aurelia’s decree.

  He cleared his throat and hesitated. “Very well, my Lady. Thank you for ensuring I do not lose face with my peers or my superiors.”

  The old seer nodded and then clapped her hands together. “I’m so glad you agree because I wish for you to assist me with my selected liaison.”

  The commander smiled though his mouth was a thin line that lacked any cheer. “May I ask who your choice of replacement is?”

  Aurelia nodded. “Of course,” she said, waving a hand and turning to say, “Meet Max Vissarion.”

  Chapter 9

  Max had drawn the attention of many a soldier within the military too.

  Aulus hadn’t been ecstatic at Max’s appointment to what Aulus had considered a prime role, but Max’s work ethic, his talent as a soldier and his dedication to Aurelia had impressed the commander. Aulus had reluctantly mentored Max once he’d seen that the younger man was hard-working. It seemed that a strong work-ethic had been the key to gaining the commander’s support.

  Max had trained hard and sailed through military school, entering the army officially at the age of nineteen when his role of liaison had become official. He’d been shipped off to distant war zones with a caveat that should the Pythia call he’d be flown directly to her.

  Max had felt guilty for leaving her, even though he knew Mara was fully capable of translation for Aurelia. But Max had grown fond of the crotchety old woman.

  On his first tour, he’d been attached to a platoon of Tirones; new recruits who would train for anything from three to twelve months before transition to the next level. Both men and women were provided with equal access to the army, though there were still a few politicians who believed a woman’s place was at home. From what Max saw on his first day in formal service, he had to disagree.

  His commander, Bridgette Gordia was tough as nails, and harder on her recruits than even old Codimus had been. She’d put the team through their paces on the first day, ordering a barefooted run over hills littered with sharp stones, shrapnel, and shards of glass.

  Max, whose soles had been calloused with running through the Argentinean hillside had run the course with ease. He’d completed his run and had barely broken a sweat, and was picking a short piece of metal from his heel when a shout went up from the middle of the obstacle course. One of the recruits was trying to lift what looked like the barrel of a half-exploded cannon. Max frowned as he stared at the boy, whose shock of dreadlocks shivered around his head, his muscles building as he strained to lift the weapon.

  A shout of laughter went up, and a fellow recruit slapped his thigh. “Look at that. How chivalrous of him to help the helpless female.” The boy grunted as his companion elbowed him hard in the gut and jerked his chin at the commander who stood not ten feet from him.

  Though silenced, the kid continued to smile widely as Dreadlocks strained to move the cannon. From Max’s location, he was able to see that the cannon had fallen and trapped another recruit whose blonde ponytail shone like gold. He couldn’t see her face, but despite the awkward angle of the cannon, she didn’t seem to be in pain.

  Max shouldered past a small cluster of recruits, noticing that not one of them seemed inclined to offer assistance. True, the test of the course had been to get through first or at least to be among the top ten percent. Failing hadn’t been an option and as Max watched he realized that Dreadlocks had forgotten the race entirely and was focused on helping the girl.

  Max gritted his teeth and threw caution to the wind. Sure, he wanted to come out on top but not at the risk of someone’s health or mortality being on the line. He surged past the front line and raced onto the field, easily avoiding the many obstacles on his path.

  He reached the boy whose brown skin glistened with perspiration. He glanced up, bright golden-brown eyes wide with frustration.

  He hesitated as he stared at Max, who nodded at him and glanced down at the girl. “The cannon slipped in the mud. Couple of kids jumped it before Les did and it slid just as she got to it.”

  The girl groaned. “It’s not anyone’s fault. I should have been paying attention. Should have gone around instead of trying to show off.” She let out a sigh. “Fuck, I hate being the damsel in distress.”

  “Then why don’t you do something about it?” asked Max.

  The girl—Les—frowned as she studied his face. “You got a plan buddy? Do tell cos I’m all outta options over here.”

  “Study your surroundings, assess your position, decide on the most logical course of action.” Max jerked a chin at a thin metal rod that sat beside Les’s head. “Won’t know if it will help unless you try.” He wanted to tell her more, but he’d already sensed the presence of commander Gordia behind him, and he wanted the girl to succeed on her own. Even if she failed the course, she’d earn herself some credit for getting out of her situation using her own head.

  The girl’s eyes narrowed, and Max paused.

  Had he misjudged her?

  Chapter 10

  But she seemed to consider his words for a moment. She glanced over at the cannon, then at how it lay across her body, where its end sat on a shallow rock at her side. She was fixed in place by the position and weight of the cannon, but there was a way out.

  Max realized she was squinting more because he had the sun at his back and it was unlikely she’d be able to see more than just his outline.

  Then she grinned and reached for the rod, sliding it toward her with her fingers until she could grab a hold of it. She gripped it firmly then angled it beneath her torso, slowly digging and scraping away the mud from beneath her back. It had felt like an excruciatingly long time, but from what Max had assessed, it had been a simple thing. The cannon was weighing her down but only to a certain extent. All she’d needed to do was to lower herself out from beneath it, and the soft muddy soil was easy enough to remove with a small implement.

  At last, she shimmied out from beneath the cannon and boosted to her feet. “Thanks for…” she paused her gaze flickering momentarily over Max’s shoulder, “…the belief in me.” She nodded, her cheeks still red from the effort.

  Then Max and Dreadlocks—who had been exceptionally quiet—came face-to-face with Gordia whose lips had formed a thin tight line.

  “Vissarion? Assante?” she addressed Max and Dreadlocks. “I don’t believe you are required to lurk while a fellow recruit is attempting to complete the course.”

  Assante paused and looked over at Max. “It’s my fault, Commander. I stopped to help, and he came to assist.”

  Gordia peered around the two boys and studied Les. Max would have killed to have seen the girl’s expression. Then the commander said, “I don’t see how she needed your help. I respect your chivalry—”

  “It wasn’t chivalry, commander.”

  Gordia looked over at Max, and her eyes narrowed. She was a tall, imposing woman, her frame slim and muscled. Her pale hair was braided into a bun at the back of her head, and she exuded power, and oddly a sense of safety. “Explain yourself, Tiro.”

  Max gave a shallow bow. “I apologize, commander. What I meant was I would have assisted no matter the sex of my fallen comrade. Fro
m where I’d stood, I couldn’t tell the Tiro was a female, so I’d given no special treatment to her gender.”

  Gordia’s lip curled slightly at the corner before she straightened and gave a sharp nod. She shifted a cool regard to Assante, who, despite the deeper brown of his skin was clearly going red—and said, “I assume you too suffered from the same affliction of offering your comrades assistance regardless of sex.”

  Assante hesitated and glanced over at Max who glared at him hard.

  The boy cleared his throat. “I’m afraid so, Commander,” he said straightening his spine.

  The commander nodded and walked around the two before she stood before Les. “There was a man once, centuries ago who had said something like ‘give a man a fish, and you will feed him today, but teach a man to fish, and you will feed him for the rest of his life.’ Do you understand what I mean Tiro Avesta?”

  The girl nodded. “Saving a person from a dangerous situation is one thing but teaching that person the tools with which to free themselves will save them multiple times over in their future lives.”

  Gordia smiled and nodded. “Well learned, Tiro. Now you and your comrades may leave the field. We will begin the next challenge shortly.”

  The trio didn’t wait to be told again. They marched back to the waiting group of recruits and took their positions in the lines as the commander returned from the field.

  The rest for the month passed uneventfully, with Gordia putting all of the recruits through a grueling pace that had at least a dozen pull out of their own accord, and which had failed more than twenty. Not everyone was cut out for the army, and it was clear from the variety of recruits that had arrived on the first day.

  But Assante—whose first name Max soon discovered was Marcus—and Avesta, had remained as strong and as resilient as Max himself and had passed each of the minor levels with flying colors. When Max had progressed to Miles within two months, he’d worried that leaving the two behind would affect their fast-formed friendship.