Warden's Fury

by Tony James Slater

  Kreon gasped. It was her; his Àurea, blinking in the sudden brightness, her half-ruined face exposed for all to see.

  Àurea. Alive. Against all hope.

  The transformation that ran through Sera was like an electric current. She stiffened in shock, one hand going to her mouth. Just as quick she covered the gesture, running a stern hand through her hair instead, whilst she brought the sword around in front of her to lean on.

  To the untrained observer, nothing had changed. But Kreon had known Sera for a long time. He could read her body language better than anyone alive; the tiny nuances, the tension in her posture, the curve of her neck. Her face was carved in stone, betraying no emotion, but Kreon saw the set of her jaw. The colour in her face had darkened a shade; veins and sinews stood out in her neck. He couldn’t ever remember seeing her this upset — not since he’d first delivered the news that Àurea wasn’t coming home.

  “This… girl.” Sera spoke at last. “Tell me your plans for her.”

  The Magistrate exchanged glances with the officials either side of him. “Execution, eventually. Once we have obtained every last shred of information from her. Assessors have been working her night and day, but her resistance is impressive for a—” the Magistrate stopped himself just in time. “For a person of such low quality.”

  “Low quality.” Sera’s voice was flat. “And so you treat her like this? Like an animal?”

  The Magistrate shrugged. “In our society, a criminal is less than that. This girl forfeited any right to fair treatment when she murdered hundreds of my compatriots. My apologies, Lady Serafine, but you are not familiar with their tactics. This pathetic individual and the ragged band she leads make it their practice to sneak into the homes of high-ranking officials in the dead of night, murdering them in their sleep. The ‘Ingumen’ she styles herself after, an obsolete deity from before our reformation, was known as the God of Nightmares. So you see; by her own admission she is an enemy of the state, and a person of the most deplorable nature. She has already died publicly, to send a message to the masses; her real death will be far slower and much more unpleasant.”

  Sera had been strolling casually forward during the Magistrate’s speech, and now stopped directly below his dais. “And you will be the one to administer this fate?”

  “I will have a hand in devising it, of course. Why? Have you any suggestions?”

  The look Sera gave him was cold enough to freeze blood. “I will take her with me.”

  “What?” the Magistrate spat. “Out of the question! She is a—”

  Sera’s icy tone cut through his bluster. “It was not a request.”

  “And it is not one I would grant if it were,” the Magistrate retorted. “Now it’s your turn to be careful, Lady Serafine. I will not be dictated to in my own courtroom! You skate very close to the edge here, regardless of our deal.”

  “Close to the edge?” Sera’s voice was raised now, anger showing on her face as she began to lose control. “Close to the edge?” she yelled. “You will feel my edge, Otonus! You will die here today, along with everyone in this room!”

  The Magistrate’s voice betrayed a mixture of fear and disgust. He pounded a flabby fist on the console in front of him. “Lady Serafine! You will end this ridiculous behaviour, or I will hold you in contempt of court.”

  The laugh that burst out of her was as harsh as it was unexpected. “Ha ha ha! I have nothing but contempt for this court.”

  “Then you leave me no choice. Erresonador!”

  A tall man in ceremonial armour stepped forward, presenting a velvet-lined box to the Magistrate.

  Kreon knew what was inside immediately, but there was no time for a warning. His cuffs tumbled to the floor as his transceiver gave the command, but the guard was too far away for him to tackle.

  The Magistrate scooped the golden cone from the box and raised it to point directly at Sera.

  Time seemed to slow down as Kreon watched the man work a control on the cone’s base. A noise was building, like a rush in his ears, as the Magistrate extended his arm—

  And then Sera screamed.

  The sound hit Kreon with the force of a tidal wave. Half standing, he was thrown violently to the floor. As he fell, he caught sight of the scream’s effect on the rest of the room. Spreading out from Sera, modulated and amplified by some technology he’d never encountered before, it slammed into every person present, tossing them around like toys.

  Kreon found himself flat on his stomach, arms outstretched. He blinked the stars from his vision and struggled to get his legs under him. His ears rung with a high-pitched whine, the after-effect of whatever weapon Sera had just unleashed. His eyes, his breathing, his blood, all had enhanced resistance to attack; his ears were a weak link in the chain, he realised. The noise made his head pound, and the ground swayed beneath him as he tried to stand.

  His eyes went to Àurea first. The girl was out cold, lying in a dishevelled heap. Both Tris and Kyra had been flattened by the attack; he sent the command to their restraints anyway, freeing them up to fight or escape as best they could. On shaky legs he made for Àurea — but Sera got there first. Crouching to cradle her daughter, Sera’s face softened from hatred to tenderness in an instant. She raised a hand to stroke Àurea’s cheek, then thought better of it. Lowering Àurea to the floor, Sera stood as Kreon reached her. The look she turned on him was unfathomable; pain, loss and bitterness fought with something he hadn’t seen on her face in a long time. He almost didn’t recognise it.

  It was happiness.

  A groan from the dais drew their attention. A muffled shout followed, as around the room armoured figures struggled to their feet.

  Kreon looked back at Sera, and received the tiniest of nods in return. So he ducked past her, making for the table of weapons. But Sera wasn’t finished with him; a sharp blow from her fist sent him reeling to the ground for the second time. This time he crashed down on his back, staring up at her. A thought flashed through his mind — that he had misjudged her, that the massive sword would come slicing down, ending his life right then.

  But Sera wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes roved the edge of the room, where a ring of recovering guards were now reaching for their fallen rifles. As Kreon watched, a dozen fingers unfolded from each of Sera’s massive shoulder pads. They spread out behind her like miniature wings, the narrow tubes moving independently.

  Targeting, Kreon realised.

  And then they fired as one, a wide spread of metal projectiles arcing out in all directions.

  Cries of pain and surprise filled the air as some of the barbed projectiles found human targets. Others embedded themselves in the chamber walls with a series of staccato cracks that echoed around the chamber—

  And then there was silence.

  For a heartbeat.

  Then every one of Sera’s flechettes exploded at once.

  Fire blossomed from the walls, rolling out in a torrent of heat and sound. The cries became screams as those guards not torn apart by the blasts were engulfed in flame.

  Kreon hadn’t even had time to get up when Sera sprang over him, the massive sword high above her head. He craned his neck to follow as her leap, assisted by the blue glare of the jets in her boots, took her right to the edge of the dais. And as the Magistrate tried to rise, still fumbling with the golden cone, Sera brought the sword down with both hands on the hilt.

  The Magistrate was cut in two from forehead to navel, dead before he had chance to scream. The sword continued on, carving a great chunk out of the console in front of him. Without pause Sera abandoned the giant weapon, vaulting the console with a pair of vicious-looking blades extending from her gauntlets. The first she buried in the chest of the official seated next to the Magistrate; from there she spun, decapitating the next man in line with the second blade. Only one more remained on that side; he’d risen from his chair, backing away with a pistol clutched in his hands. He fired, a volley of energy blasts flashing towards Sera, but she held up one h
and in defence. Kreon saw a flicker in the air around her gauntlet as the shots bounced off one after another, sizzling into the desk or disappearing towards the vaulted ceiling. The official’s jaw fell open in surprise, the pistol hanging forgotten in his hand. He was still gawping at Sera when she drove both blades into his stomach, lifting him off his feet briefly before flinging him back against the wall behind him.

  With no more enemies on this side of the dais, Sera turned. Two of the three men on the far side were fleeing their seats, robes swirling in their wake. Sera raised her arms, taking aim — and the blade from her left gauntlet fired off like a javelin, streaking across the room to impale one of the men mid-stride. A moment later the second blade shot through the air, punching into the second man’s unprotected back.

  The last official from the dais must have escaped into the chaos of the room, where guards staggered around burning like torches, or lay on the floor writhing and screaming.

  Kreon dragged himself to his feet, to find Tristan and Kyra had just regained theirs. It had all happened so fast — it would have taken his breath away, had he not had it knocked out of him.

  “Come on!” he wheezed, beckoning to the others. A few strides took him to the evidence table, where his mechanical fist shattered the transparent case with a single blow. He collected his Kharash pendant first, dragging it over his head one-handed as he reached for the grav-staff. Kyra was beside him in an instant. She tossed Tristan’s glaive back to him before collecting her swords with obvious relish.

  The three of them exchanged glances, then turned as one to where Sera was kneeling on the floor, her armoured fingers tracing Àurea’s unconscious face. A moment later she stood, draping the girl over her shoulder as though she weighed nothing, and caught sight of Kreon staring at her.

  “Well?” she snapped. “Are you planning on staying here?”

  * * *

  Tris crossed the courtroom at a dead run. He’d taken a few precious seconds to lever Sera’s giant sword free from the wooden console, climbing the steps of the dais to do so. While doing that, he’d marvelled at the carnage back there; the Magistrate’s body had fallen open like a book, spilling internal organs into an untidy pile on his lap.

  Everyone in this room…

  Sera’s boast replayed in his mind as he raced back down the steps. No-one could accuse her of exaggerating; even as she retreated, her daughter’s body slung over her shoulder like a sack of oats, she’d pulled a small pistol and taken the time to shoot every prone form she passed in the head. She hadn’t even broken stride to do it.

  Now Tris caught up to her as she paused in the doorway. A small hatch opened in her thigh armour and she pulled a smooth metal sphere from it. She tossed the thing casually into the room and turned on her heel, setting off down the wide entrance corridor without a backward glance.

  Kyra clapped Tris on the shoulder and held a guard’s rifle out to him. “Dunno how long was on that timer,” she said, “but we don’t want to be here when that thing blows.”

  Tris nodded, breathing hard, and took a second to rearrange his weapons. With no magnetic stripe in his prison outfit he was forced to carry everything, whereas Kyra had her swords safely coiled around her waist. A captured rifle was in her hands, pumping controlled bursts into every recess they approached.

  Tris juggled the giant sword with his glaive and rifle, then gave up. “Sera!” he called, jogging forwards.

  She stopped in her tracks as he came in front of her. He held the massive sword up. “Swap?”

  Sera eyed him so coldly he thought she’d attack him — but Kreon stepped in between them.

  “Let me take her,” he said — his voice softer than Tris had ever heard it.

  Sera’s reaction was instantaneous. The ice in her expression melted, and she dipped her shoulder. Kreon fastened his hand in Àurea’s jumpsuit and swung her effortlessly onto his own shoulder. Sera studied the floor for a moment, and when she looked up her eyes blazed. “Don’t let her die this time,” she said — and snatching the sword from Tris, she stormed off down the corridor.

  The next few minutes passed in a blur.

  Keeping the glaive as short as possible, Tris hung the rifle around his neck and fired it one-handed. Kyra mirrored him on the opposite side of Kreon, as the Warden strode along with his precious cargo. Sera raged down the corridor in front of them like a typhoon, her anger as much a weapon as any of her built-in armaments. Guards leapt at them from alcoves, sprayed fire at them from either side, but all were cut down immediately. Kyra had two rifles now, and was shrieking a stream of curses as she mowed down anyone in their path. Tris snapped off a couple of shots behind them to discourage pursuit, and was looking back at the entrance to the court room when Sera’s bomb exploded.

  The floor shook, sending him staggering across the corridor. Great blocks of stone blasted out from the far wall as the entrance became an inferno. Tongues of flame leapt down the corridor towards them and a blast of heat washed across Tris’ face. Chunks of masonry fell from the ceiling, shattering into rubble on the floor all around them.

  “Shit!” Tris picked up the pace, racing after the others. Another explosion rocked the tower, shaking the walls and causing another rain of debris.

  The others had reached an imposing doorway; several guards lay strewn around to either side, victims of Kyra’s relentless fusillade. Kreon handed Àurea back to Sera, then powered up his grav-staff. Tris reached them just as the Warden swung double-handed, striking the massive door dead-centre. With a sound like a car crash the slab of metal crumpled in on itself, tearing free of its hinges and collapsing outward.

  Sera gave Kreon a hard look, then adjusted Àurea on her shoulder. She strode through the new opening without pause, giant sword at the ready.

  As Tris made to follow her, the corridor trembled around him. Great cracks shot out from the ruined doorway, spreading to the roof and walls as fast as the eye could follow.

  “Out!” Kyra yelled, diving for the opening. Tris followed with Kreon close on his heels. He landed, rolling to his feet as the Warden crashed to the ground next to him. Tris put out a hand and was nearly wrenched from his feet as Kreon took the offer, hauling his heavy metal frame upright.

  Ignoring the laser blasts skipping around them, they sprinted a handful of steps before the entire entrance collapsed behind them with a titanic roar.

  Tris managed to keep his balance this time, as the shockwave made the ground leap up at him.

  Suddenly feeling the wind on his face, Tris looked around. He was outside, on a kind of raised apron beyond the entrance. Stone steps led down to where the sun shone on a wide expanse of paving, big enough for markets or rallies — or for ships to land. At least ten ships of all shapes and sizes had done exactly that, each leaving a respectful distance between their neighbours. Parked closest to their position was single white fighter, its hull heavily scorched and streaked with carbon. A pair of guards huddled behind it, firing resolutely towards Kyra; her return fire had already dropped two of their comrades to the smooth flagstones.

  Further explosions could be felt underfoot, tremors rippling through the ground as Tris added his fire to Kyra’s. “What the hell was that bomb?” he yelled at Kreon. “Feels like this whole place is coming down!”

  “Not my work,” Sera retorted, using the shimmer of energy around her free hand to deflect a laser blast. “The armoury would be many levels from here. No reason the blast should extend beyond the Chamber of Justice.”

  “I believe that may be my fault,” Kreon said, checking the power level on his captured rifle. “I have been decoding a message from—”

  “KREON!” Kyra yelled. All heads snapped to look at her, and to follow her pointing finger upwards. “Company!”

  And a shadow fell over them, the sun momentarily eclipsed by the huge bulk of a ship flying directly overhead.

  Sera crouched, rolling Àurea into her arms as the finger-like launchers popped up from her shoulder pads again. Kyra
was aiming her gun skyward, as Kreon shaded his eyes with his free hand to stare up at the ship.

  “Hold your fire!” the Warden roared, as the ship executed a tight turn and dove straight down towards them.

  “Who is it?” Sera demanded, her gauntlets raised and taking aim at the approaching ship.

  “My fault again,” Kreon admitted, as the sun was swallowed by shadow once more. “I didn’t have time to mention it, but that is our ride.”

  33

  Tris pelted up Wayfinder’s ramp as soon as it extended.

  The ship didn’t even need to land; all four of them made the leap from the tower steps, as guns higher up the tower began to rain fire down on them.

  Tris paused long enough to see Sera charge through the hatch, one arm curled protectively around the limp girl on her shoulder. He beckoned to her, pointing out the crew lounge while Kyra’s boots pounded the deck towards the cockpit. Inertial dampeners were fairly useless in atmosphere, and Tris bounced off both side walls one after another as he raced after Kyra and Kreon. He reached the cockpit just as Kyra slid into the pilot’s chair.

  “Thanks ALI, but I’ll take it from here,” she said, swatting a battery of switches.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” the computer chimed.

  “Arrgh!” Kyra threw her hands up. “Can’t trust any bastard around here!”

  She grabbed the control stem and hauled back on it, pulling their nose up as she gunned the engines.

  “No shields,” Kreon reported from the chair next to her. As if to underscore his message, a streak of laser fire splashed across the canopy, momentarily turning the viewscreens red.

  “My apologies Lord Anakreon,” ALI responded. “I was forced to use the railguns to escape the Impound Bay.”

  The pieces snapped together in Tris’ mind; repeated explosions from below them, the whole tower shaking with the force. ALI had blasted her way out of the tower, using Wayfinder’s most powerful weapons to do it. Kyra had described how she’d destroyed the prison with the same guns — it was probably a miracle the tower was still standing.