it enough of the heat and oxygen from his ship so that he could walk a short distance outside. Assuming he was not too weakened.
But Galen had never been skilled with shields of any kind. He would need a breather and something warm to wear.
He had only a lightweight coat, long and black. The temperature seldom fell to freezing on the mak. He dug the coat out of his valise, slipped the breather over his face, and hurried into the air lock. As he descended the ramp, he had to shade his eyes. The sun was too bright, the landscape too clear. No comforting mist enfolded the land; no buildings obscured the landscape. He could see miles across the barren ice sheet to the ragged mountains.
As soon as he was clear of the ship, he visualized the equation to dissociate. Twin echoes from the tech and the chrysalis confirmed the conjury, then his connection to the ship broke; the second echo faded into silence.
Yet the undercurrent of energy from the implants remained with him, and it felt stronger than ever. It was restless and endless, quick to respond. And there was no dissociating from it. He was determined to remain in control, no matter what happened.
He jammed his cold hands into his pockets and tramped across the crunchy ice pack. Elric stood already before the empty ship. The ramp was lowered.
"This is not Kell's ship," Elric said. "It has been disguised." His voice had regained its strength, and he manipulated it with his old skill, extending certain sounds, pausing at specific places, and modulating his intonation to almost hypnotic effect. In the bright sun, though, Elric's face looked worn. Perhaps it was the blue tinge of the shield covering his body that gave his skin a pale cast. With his scoured scalp and high-collared black robe, he still appeared stern and severe, yet now Galen sensed a weariness in the thin line of his lips, an effort in the frown lines between his brows.
"Whose is it, then?"
"We will know soon enough."
They walked up the ramp, Galen matching Elric's slow steps. As they reached the air lock, the outer door opened for them.
"Only one of us need go," Elric said.
"But which one?" Galen replied. He knew Elric would prefer him to wait away from the ship, and danger. As one of the Circle, Elric could order him to remain behind. But Elric had not given him an order since Galen had ceased being his student and had been initiated as a mage. Galen didn't think he would do so now. And Galen didn't want Elric to enter alone.
Galen stepped into the air lock, and Elric entered with him. The door closed behind them.
They waited while the air lock pressurized. Then the inner door opened. Inside, all was dark. Galen removed his breather. The recycled air carried a faint stale smell.
Elric conjured a globe of light. Around the ship, other lights suddenly flashed on, one after the other. They all pointed in the same direction. Sitting in the spotlight was something that Galen, at first, could not identify. Then he recognized the white goatee scoured into the shape of the rune for knowledge. From there his gaze rose to Kell's face, which had fallen back, white teeth gleaming in a mouth fixed in a rigid grimace.
The sleeves of Kell's robe had been ripped open, and beneath, a single clean incision had been made down each of Kell's arms, the skin spread back like the petals of an alien flower, revealing a great mystery of darkness speckled with brilliant flecks of white. His hands were two great blossoms, the skin of palms, of thumbs, index and middle fingers peeled back, muscle elegantly split, delicate canyons of bone exposed.
Kell had been flayed.
In the early days of their history, rogue mages had been flayed for refusing to obey the Code. Removing all of the tech from a mage, unless it was done soon after initiation, was always fatal. The body and the tech quickly became intertwined. Although flaying remained the punishment for serious violations of the Code, it hadn't been administered for hundreds of
But Galen had never been skilled with shields of any kind. He would need a breather and something warm to wear.
He had only a lightweight coat, long and black. The temperature seldom fell to freezing on the mak. He dug the coat out of his valise, slipped the breather over his face, and hurried into the air lock. As he descended the ramp, he had to shade his eyes. The sun was too bright, the landscape too clear. No comforting mist enfolded the land; no buildings obscured the landscape. He could see miles across the barren ice sheet to the ragged mountains.
As soon as he was clear of the ship, he visualized the equation to dissociate. Twin echoes from the tech and the chrysalis confirmed the conjury, then his connection to the ship broke; the second echo faded into silence.
Yet the undercurrent of energy from the implants remained with him, and it felt stronger than ever. It was restless and endless, quick to respond. And there was no dissociating from it. He was determined to remain in control, no matter what happened.
He jammed his cold hands into his pockets and tramped across the crunchy ice pack. Elric stood already before the empty ship. The ramp was lowered.
"This is not Kell's ship," Elric said. "It has been disguised." His voice had regained its strength, and he manipulated it with his old skill, extending certain sounds, pausing at specific places, and modulating his intonation to almost hypnotic effect. In the bright sun, though, Elric's face looked worn. Perhaps it was the blue tinge of the shield covering his body that gave his skin a pale cast. With his scoured scalp and high-collared black robe, he still appeared stern and severe, yet now Galen sensed a weariness in the thin line of his lips, an effort in the frown lines between his brows.
"Whose is it, then?"
"We will know soon enough."
They walked up the ramp, Galen matching Elric's slow steps. As they reached the air lock, the outer door opened for them.
"Only one of us need go," Elric said.
"But which one?" Galen replied. He knew Elric would prefer him to wait away from the ship, and danger. As one of the Circle, Elric could order him to remain behind. But Elric had not given him an order since Galen had ceased being his student and had been initiated as a mage. Galen didn't think he would do so now. And Galen didn't want Elric to enter alone.
Galen stepped into the air lock, and Elric entered with him. The door closed behind them.
They waited while the air lock pressurized. Then the inner door opened. Inside, all was dark. Galen removed his breather. The recycled air carried a faint stale smell.
Elric conjured a globe of light. Around the ship, other lights suddenly flashed on, one after the other. They all pointed in the same direction. Sitting in the spotlight was something that Galen, at first, could not identify. Then he recognized the white goatee scoured into the shape of the rune for knowledge. From there his gaze rose to Kell's face, which had fallen back, white teeth gleaming in a mouth fixed in a rigid grimace.
The sleeves of Kell's robe had been ripped open, and beneath, a single clean incision had been made down each of Kell's arms, the skin spread back like the petals of an alien flower, revealing a great mystery of darkness speckled with brilliant flecks of white. His hands were two great blossoms, the skin of palms, of thumbs, index and middle fingers peeled back, muscle elegantly split, delicate canyons of bone exposed.
Kell had been flayed.
In the early days of their history, rogue mages had been flayed for refusing to obey the Code. Removing all of the tech from a mage, unless it was done soon after initiation, was always fatal. The body and the tech quickly became intertwined. Although flaying remained the punishment for serious violations of the Code, it hadn't been administered for hundreds of
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