Returning his attention to the present moment, he looked down at his father's corpse. With the other four so far deceased, he'd arranged things so that they died while he was elsewhere. He couldn't be seen now that he was assumed dead, and it was an unnecessary risk to bother killing them all in person. But he'd wanted to be present when his father died; he'd wanted to look into the man's eyes as his life fled his body. Sir Isaac Hayne had been a great man, despite Riffolk's dislike of him; he couldn't deny that. But he was still a lousy father and a bore.
Smiling, he left the guest house in the Hayne Mansion's garden, closing the door behind him. Moonlight shone on the vibrant green grass, turning it a serene silver-blue, and Riffolk found himself in a pleasant mood as he returned to the secret lab. It took almost two full days for his father's body to be found.
The funeral, just like the man for which it was held, bored Riffolk almost to tears. Held at Rookfell Square, where he'd been named Overseer for Scientific Advancement, the memorial service was long and pointless. Sir Isaac Hayne was only well known by virtue of being born into the Hayne family, and for fathering a genius. Other than that he could boast no public accomplishments of his own. Riffolk barely listened to the words being spoken.
The only interesting part of the funeral was the presence of the remaining five Crowns; he'd been able to eliminate two more before the service. They must have attended funerals for the others he'd killed too; he wondered if they were scared yet. He watched them closely from a window in a nearby Government building overlooking the square, hidden from their view; they looked weary, and he could have sworn their eyes wandered through the crowd, paranoid. It made the long service bearable. He already had everything set up for the next Crown. They would die today.
The Spectre
The armour felt good. He stood on the corner of a building rooftop, his cloak flowing in the breeze. It had been a long, long time. Dozens of weapons and tools lay hidden within the armour, the fabric sleeves and the folds of his cloak. He knew the placement of each one, and could snatch them out ready to use in the blink of an eye.
The Twelve were after him. If he wasn't careful, they would succeed in their quest to have him killed. He cursed them for being so well hidden; if they slipped up at all, he would have killed them already. He loved Ermoor, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure it was a safe and beautiful city.
The Twelve Crowns, for all their talk of building a secure society, were no longer acting in Ermoor's best interests. He had to stop them. Not just from the invasion, but from themselves; they were corrupt. The Twelve had been ruling from the shadows for almost two thousand years, never changing, never growing. Their only redeeming quality now was that they'd held onto God and remained devout.
On the street below, he saw two cloaked figures emerge from an abandoned building. Ivorstorm was home to at least a dozen abandoned factories, putting more of the lower class out of work than ever before in Ermoor's history. The two figures he watched walked together down the street, eyes forward. They moved purposefully, their steps strong and certain.
If they'd been careful, they would have moved slower, wandering and talking, as the workers of Ivorstorm did. It was the first time he'd seen members of the Twelve slip up.
He'd long suspected the abandoned factories as potential meeting places, but so far had never seen anything to back that up; until tonight. Something was happening; something serious enough that the Twelve were losing their focus. It was finally his time.
They walked straight towards Ironhaven; another mistake. He followed for a while, finally close enough to hear their hushed voices.
"I don't understand, how is this possible?"
"I know everything you do, brother. It shouldn't be possible at all."
"We've remained in the shadows, completely undetected, for close to two thousand years!"
"Maybe what the Lord Commander was saying is -"
"Shut up! Not out here, not outside the chamber. There could be listeners anywhere."
The figures both looked around, and he stopped moving, crouching on top of the street light where he stood. In broad daylight, he would have been as obvious as a cartwheeling clown, but the nights in Ermoor were foggy, and the street lights were bright and colourful, creating a visual barrier between the ground and everything above.
"Anyway, we must focus on protection, as brother Dreadhold said. There aren't many of us left."
"Shh!"
They scurried on, oblivious to him. He followed, but nothing more was said between them.
Elana
She woke with a start. Her body was stuck, bound by something that felt like a metal clamp. The brightly lit room slowly came back into focus, and Elana found herself staring into a large red triangle of light. She was hanging half a metre from the ground. As her vision finally returned, the light in front of her became a terrifying machine's eye, trained intently on her. It bristled with weapons, each one aimed precisely. She strained against her bonds; she couldn't move at all.
"I did warn you."
Hayne's voice carried gently through the silent room. He stepped from behind the machine, watching her with that same amused, condescending expression.
"I may not have a magical sword, but I can assure you the weapons I've designed are far more deadly."
Elana let him talk. She couldn't hope to escape the metal device holding her, not with physical strength. If she could reach her sword, she had no doubt it was sharp enough to slice through the metal. Shadow magic was far stronger than the metal used in Ermoor. But her sword was in Hayne's hand, and her arms couldn't move at all; it may as well have been back in Shanaken. She could move her hands though. Not much, but she could make a fist. It was enough.
"You have no idea how deadly Shadow Magic is, Hayne."
As he started laughing, she activated the shield spell with both hands. The shields spread instantly, rending through the thick metal binds with a loud grating sound. She dropped to the ground, rolled, and sprinted past Hayne, snatching her Kaizuun as she went, keeping him between her and the machine. It sidestepped its master, and a high pitched whine started as its weapons prepared to fire.
She brought her right hand back and shot it forward, hurling the shield with all her strength at the machine. Her shield hit it directly in the bright red eye at its centre just as it started firing. Her left shield was already up, but only a few shots from its weapons hit before the machine was thrown off balance by her attack.
She moved instantly, sliding her sword from its sheath and launching herself in a high arc at the machine before it could recover. It kept firing blindly, aiming at where Elana had been. Her shield, buried in the machine's eye, disintegrated after a few seconds; but the damage was done, and the red triangle was dull and cracked. Her leap carried her over the thing's head. She dropped the left shield spell, took her Kaizuun in both hands, and swept the blade down hard.
Her Shadow Blade sheared through the metal as though it was the tender meat of an animal, and the machine crumpled to the floor as she landed in a ready stance facing Hayne. He still didn't look scared. Instead, her skill and refusal to be captured appeared to enrage him. A tight snarl pulled at his lips, though his eyes were as cold and dispassionate as ever. He aimed his weapon at her and fired, again and again. She leapt straight up, drawing as much strength as she could from her Kaizuun. She spun, landed feet first on the ceiling and kicked as hard as she could at an angle, shooting over Hayne and behind him.
He kept firing, reloading after every second shot, trying to keep up with her speed and failing despite his reflexes. His weapon boomed over and over, filling the room with explosions that left Elana's ears ringing. A sharp pain flared in her left arm, and too late she activated the left shield again. Landing behind Hayne, she shoved her shield savagely into his back before he could turn to engage her. He sprawled onto the cold metal floor. He didn't lose his grip on the weapon, and snapped around to face her faster than she would have believed
. She brought her shield up and braced for more explosions, but a dull click came from the weapon instead.
Elana lowered her shield just enough to look Hayne in the eyes. He threw his weapon away, staring at her. This time his expression spread further than his lips; a tiny spark of fury danced in his eyes.
"What you do here today will make no real difference," he said, "Shanaken will fall."
The fury in his eyes vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.
"All of Pandeia will fall."
Mara
The doctors were cold, clinical and uncaring, looking at her as though she were simply an object with no thoughts or feelings. There were three of them, in a room as barren and sterile as the room she was being kept in. Wordlessly, they passed her between each other, staring, prodding and groping. Not just her shoulder wound, but her entire body. They'd stripped her the moment she was lead to the examination room, with even less passion than Commander Corby. Each of the doctors carried a pad of paper and a pencil, and each made constant notes as they moved her around and stared and probed at her body.
Afterwards, they simply left the room, leaving her to pick her clothes off the floor and get dressed alone. Not a single word had been said between any of them, and Mara had been too terrified and uncomfortable to ask any questions. For a brief moment before they left, she'd felt the energy within her swell as her anger grew, and a small flash of light coloured the room a pale yellow. The doctors stopped scribbling for a moment, before each rushing to take notes even faster than before. Inside her, a mindless hunger told her to destroy them all, destroy the building, destroy Ermoor.
No. Your moment will come. For now, you must hide your power.
The creature's voice brought her back from the insane hunger she'd felt, and her fear of the doctors seeing her power stopped it from coming back. The examination, though simple, was already uncomfortable enough; she couldn't imagine the kinds of tests they'd do if they realised she had magic powers.
The thought made her pause. Magic isn't real, she thought, as images flashed through her mind of what she'd done to the soldiers trying to take her. There was no easy answer. She'd been told her entire life that there was no magic but for the miracles performed by God himself.
Now, not only had she found a being who seemed as powerful as God, but she was also able to wield magic herself. None of it made sense. Maybe the entire thing was a test from God. Maybe she'd already died, and this was the journey towards heaven, the weighing of her soul to determine how she lived for eternity. Or maybe she'd been hit in the head too hard by an Ermoori soldier, or by Riffolk himself, and everything that was happening was some awful nightmare.
After the examination, she'd dressed in a numb haze, feeling helpless despite the incredible power she felt inside herself. When she opened the door to leave, a guard standing just outside grabbed her, forcing her down the corridor and back into the room she was kept in. He left without saying a word, and she sat on the bench and stared at the floor. She'd always been helpless, she knew that now. The difference was that now she finally had power, but couldn't use it.
In a distant echo, coming from a small, dark corner of her mind, the creature's voice emerged again.
Your moment will come.
Commander Corby entered her room as she was waking up, her eyes still blurry. She'd been given a plain white slip to sleep in, and didn't bother changing into regular clothes during the day. She would either be examined by the scientists, or would spend another day alone in the bare room; there was no reason to be dressed up. Other than her horrible memories and nightmares, the one thing that bothered her was not having access to make-up; her face felt naked and exposed, and it was the first time anyone but her parents or Riffolk had seen her without make-up on.
He closed the door behind him, standing with his hand on the door knob until she sat up. It had been four days. She still didn't remember much of what had happened, and what she did know, she wasn't sure she wanted to tell them. Too much had happened lately to shake her faith, and now she had no idea who or what to believe. The only thing that seemed real was the energy flowing through her body and the constant buzzing of the wound in her shoulder.
"We've run every test we can. Your shoulder doesn't make sense from a medical perspective, but we need to keep you here to monitor its healing."
His eyes bored into her own, piercing and relentless. How much longer? She wanted to ask, but she was too afraid of the answer. Surely they weren't allowed to keep her here too long... there had to be rules against it.
"We also need to talk about what you remember, Mara. Ermoor needs to know."
Lowering her eyes to his boots again, she waited for the questions.
"You told me there was a girl from Tyra who spoke to you. A girl called Pera. Where is she?"
Tears sprang into her eyes without warning. The image of her corpse on the cold ground of the lab was still vivid, her destroyed head jutting up from her shoulders like some horrible, jagged crown.
"She's... He killed her."
"Oh, Mara. I'm sorry. Where did it happen?"
"He shot her in the lab, just before the thing escaped."
"Do you remember which room?"
"What? There was only one room."
He paused, genuinely confused.
"Riffolk's lab is the largest scientific facility in Ermoor. There are dozens of rooms, including several separate laboratory rooms. Do you remember which one she was killed in?"
Mara couldn't stop the sobbing; her chest and shoulders heaved as she gasped for breath.
"No, it was in the secret lab, under – underneath. The thing – it smashed out of – of the door... didn't you see it?"
Commander Corby stared at her as though she had suddenly grown an extra arm.
"We searched the entire lab after collecting you from the street. It was already empty from the shut down. There were signs of severe damage from the creature's rampage, and some remains of Riffolk's clothing, but nothing like what you're describing."
She shook her head violently, her heart thumping. He wasn't listening!
"There's a secret entrance, the thing was under his lab in a huge tank! He took us and kept us down there, and then he shot her and then it escaped and I shot him but the thing grabbed him and threw him and then it grabbed me and threw me too but I survived, and then I walked out of the lab and soldiers found me but the secret entrance was still open!"
She fell silent, and he went back to simply staring at her. It was simple enough in her mind, but the words kept getting jumbled and she was close to panic. Everything she said seemed to go right past him.
"You shot Riffolk?"
"Yes... Yes. I'm sorry. He killed her and I thought he set the thing loose and I was so scared and he hurt me so badly."
Catching herself before she went into detail, she lowered her eyes and forced herself into silence. He shifted, his eyes narrowing.
"He hurt you? What did he do?"
"Nothing! He was my husband, it's not my place to complain. He loved me, I know he did. I loved him."
"So it was you who killed him, not the creature?"
"No! No, I shot him with the sleeping dart gun, the monster grabbed him and threw him across the lab. I never wanted to kill him!"
"If I brought you back to the lab, could you show me the secret entrance?"
She froze. To make him believe her, she would have gladly gone back there. But if they hadn't seen it, that meant someone sealed the door and covered it up again, immediately after she left. It meant Riffolk was still alive.
Riffolk
Riffolk smiled, waiting in the dark chamber. Over the last week, each of the remaining Twelve had died, one by one. Now, the 'Crowns' were scheduled to meet with the Lord Commander to discuss how the invasion could proceed with the project cancelled. He'd already informed Symond that only one Crown would be attending. As far as Symond knew, the Crowns were still at odds with him for cancelling the project against their w
ishes. He had no plans to dissuade the Lord Commander of that notion.
Riffolk waited in place of the Crown, the dark cowl they wore in their secret meetings stuffy and irritating. But nothing could damper the satisfaction he felt now; the last Crown lay in a pool of his own blood, less than twenty feet from the chamber. He'd died only minutes before, babbling about how Riffolk had no idea what he was doing, how Pandeia would be unbalanced and destroyed now that the Crowns were dead. He'd said it with no trace of irony, as if he genuinely didn't realise how utterly useless the Twelve Crowns had become.
There were two entrances; one, reserved solely for the actual Twelve, and the second, a private and hidden entrance only revealed to those who had business with them. With the Twelve dead, their secret entrance was now a complete secret, known only to Riffolk. From what he could determine, there were fewer than a dozen people in all of Ermoor who knew about the second entrance. He had no fear of any of them revealing it; as far as they knew, the Twelve were alive and well, and just as dangerous as ever.
Under the black robe he wore, his two guns sat in their holsters, one on each side of his belt. He wasn't sure what to expect of Symond in his desperation, especially now that he knew he'd be meeting with a single Crown; he needed to be ready for anything. By this point, Symond would be willing to do almost anything to get himself and his wife to safety. Riffolk was aware of the order for Symonds' retirement, of course; it had been given a day after he'd killed the first Crown.
Almost two weeks later, with all the Crowns dead, it was almost time for Symond to be removed from office. Riffolk still didn't have a suitable replacement, which worried him. Perhaps the Commander, Mathys Corby? All of his information indicated a man as morally upright as Symond himself; if that was correct, replacing Symond with Corby would only create the same problems he was dealing with now.
Daughter of War Page 17
