by Anna Argent
“I was ordered to stay. I will stay.”
“Don’t you hear the sounds of battle below?” asked the fat man. “Your fellow warriors are dying, and you’re in here guarding a woman who is already clearly well-guarded.”
The young warrior shifted slightly, his indecision obvious.
The woman screamed again, letting out a high-pitched, wrenching sound. An instant later, the weapon fired a thick, blue pulse of light. She lurched in the seat, then fell back down, limp and moaning in pain.
The young man flinched and his skin turned a queasy gray color.
The fat man saw the warrior’s distress and used it against him. “Her Imperial Majyr has no need of you. There is nothing any of us can do to ease her pain. No good can come from you staying here, away from battle. You are needed on the field. Go now. I will make sure that your commander knows you were obeying a direct order from the head councilman.”
The young man hesitated for a moment before he nodded once, turned on his heel, and left.
As soon as the door shut, the two old men shared a meaningful look.
“Mind your post,” said the fat man to the pair of imperial guards. “We will return shortly.”
The two men slipped away, disappearing through a narrow opening in the wall—one hidden by a pillar and a thick hanging tapestry. They had to squeeze through the tight space slowly, giving Kemp time to slip across the room and follow.
Whatever these men were doing, it was obvious they didn’t want to be found.
Inside the small, dark room was an array of intricate controls bearing the unmistakable mark of Imonite Builders. Beautiful, flowing lines and detailed, elaborate pieces mixed together into something that was not only functional, but also beautiful. A variety of colored metals layered the space, each one an exacting alloy designed for a specific purpose. It was as much art as science, and a technology that even the greatest Raide minds had yet to completely understand.
The two men each placed a hand on a glistening silver panel.
“Are you sure?” asked the thin one.
“There is no other way. We won’t survive the day if we don’t do something.”
Kemp had no idea what they did, but the surrounding air shifted, humming so loud he could feel it against his suit.
Lighting on the panel shifted until the entire console seemed to glow from within.
Whatever they were going to do was not in Kemp’s best interests, but it was clear these men held some kind of power over the weapon. He might need them later, so instead of killing them, he pulled a small gas charge from his pouch and released it into the tiny room.
Immediately, the two men crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
The humming didn’t stop. The light emanating from the controls grew brighter. In the next room, the empress cried out as if she’d been struck.
Kemp left the room. The empress was still in her soggy seat, her body drenched and trembling. Two soft-looking guards still stood at their post by the door. They had no clue that their enemy was already inside.
He took a shot at the bigger man, hitting him squarely in the chest with an orange bolt. It seared right through his body, burning a fist-sized hole in his flesh.
The energy from discharging the weapon interfered with Kemp’s suit, rendering him visible once again. But there was only one guard left, and he was shocked into frozen stillness.
Before Kemp’s weapon could recharge, the man flung his body aside, hiding behind a thick stone pillar. The sound of his garala activating was clear, even above the noise of the storm outside.
Suddenly, the giant weapon housing the empress spun around to face him. The angle was wrong for it to actually take aim, but it was obvious his presence was now known.
The room’s lighting shifted to a dark, angry red. Sirens blasted out, screaming a warning call.
Within seconds, more armed guards would come.
Kemp had no time to waste. He rolled a small ballistic charge toward the hiding guard while moving to the door. The grenade exploded, nearly drowning out the sound of the man’s dying screams.
Kemp reset his weapon and aimed it at the metal hinges. One shot for each door, and the hinges were welded shut.
As the pounding began outside the doors, Kemp made his way up the stone steps toward the woman and the weapon.
Both were now his to control.
Chapter Thirty-six
Warrian sat inside the small room that served as his prison. Outside, between gusts of heavy wind and torrential rain, he could hear the sounds of battle raging, hear his fellow warriors cry out as they fell.
The need to get out there and fight beside them crawled through him, leaving behind a sickening, desperate trail. He sat on the stone bench, trying to retain enough control of himself to keep from clawing at the wooden walls holding him hostage.
His brothers- and sisters-in-arms were out there, dying. He didn’t belong in here, helpless and waiting for his execution. If he was going to die, at least he could do so in the fight to save the lives of others. His life was forfeit. He would have done anything to trade it for that of another.
The wind died down for a moment, leaving a swath of relative quiet in the storm. Beyond the guttural sounds of battle, Warrian could hear a faint, distant sound—one he knew all too well.
Isa was screaming. Her voice rose through the opening in the dome of the palace, carried to where he sat, helpless to ease her suffering. In fact, he was certain that he was adding to the torture she already endured.
She cared about him. He’d seen it in her eyes when she’d placed one last kiss on his lips. He hadn’t dared to kiss her back, knowing that if he allowed even one small crack in the ice coating his insides, he would crumble. She needed him to be strong and pretend that he was content to go to his death, even though everything within him raged at ending his life while he could still fight.
He closed his eyes, seeing her image imprinted behind his lids. So lovely, so sad and fierce. She’d fought to save him, but her efforts had been futile, just as his helpless fury was now.
Had things been different, he would have spent the rest of his days finding a way to love her the way she deserved. Even if it meant abandoning everything he held dear. Isa meant more than all of that. More than his career, more than his duty, more than his honor.
Something huge and hot broke open in his chest, filling him with a sense of loss so acute he forgot to breathe. He was never going to see her again. Never touch her again. All that was left to him now was the memory of her touch and taste, and the faint sound of her pain-filled screams.
In those screams, he swore he heard her calling his name.
The wind picked up again, pelting the small wooden hut with heavy drops of rain. The sound drowned everything out, even the sound of the lock opening.
The door swung open, startling Warrian. He hadn’t expected anyone to come for him until the battle died down. But rather than some fellow warrior or Sekrian himself, the man who appeared in the doorway was Talan.
He was drenched. Water sluiced over his inked head, running down his neck in thick rivulets. “Time to go. Hurry.”
Warrian was pinned in place by shock for a moment. “How did you find me? Why are you here?”
“No time for that. Come on.”
Warrian’s body took over where his mind stalled out. He jumped to his feet and hurried out into the storm, stifling the rest of his questions.
The area outside was deserted when before it had been filled with warriors. Surely not all of them had joined the battle. Some of them had been injured. Some of them had been guarding the perimeter so that no enemies crept in from their flanks.
All of those warriors were gone. The question was: why?
Radek knelt beside a young warrior—the man who’d been set to guard Warrian’s cell. He was unconscious, but his eyelids fluttered as the rain hit them, proving he was still alive.
Radek rose and held out his hand. In it was the man’s gar
ala, looking like a close fit for Warrian’s own fingers. He took the rings and shoved them on, refusing to think about what his actions now would mean if he was caught.
He was already a dead man. What more did he have to lose? At least for now he was still alive to help.
Warrian spared a quick glance at the palace, his eye drawn to where he knew Isa was. It was bathed in red light—the color indicating that the imperial family was in mortal distress.
Isa. Something had happened at the palace.
“This way,” said Talan. “We’ll weave back through the jungle the way we came. There’s a window scheduled to open in about ten minutes. You’re going through it. All you need to do is tell me where.”
“I’m not going anywhere without Isa.” He had to get to her side. Only death would pull him from her now, and he was no longer willing to accept his fate without a fight. She deserved better from him. Needed more from him.
They hit the thick foliage, darting out of sight of the front lines and the men and women who fought there. No one paid them any attention. Everyone focused on the Cyturs trying to break through the funnel—the narrow opening in the stone walls raised by the Builders to protect the palace.
“Go back to Earth. You’ll be safe there. No one will come after you—it’s too much effort.”
“I can’t leave her here. She’s in trouble. See the red light?”
Radek’s voice rose up over the wind. “We can’t go in and help her. Neither one of us would pass as Loriahan. They won’t let us near the palace. We’re more likely to be slain as an enemy combatant.”
And Warrian was sentenced to death. Anyone who saw him would subdue or kill him on sight.
“We need a plan,” said Talan.
Warrian shook his head. “No. You’ve already done too much. Helping me escape was a crime. If anyone saw you, they’ll hunt you down. You need to go back to Earth and pretend you were never here.”
“And leave you to rot in prison?” asked Radek, like the concept was so foreign he couldn’t even begin to understand it.
“My fate is sealed. They can’t hurt me anymore. You both have your careers to think about. Your lives. The council will not look kindly on you helping me escape.”
Warrian cut through the thick jungle growth, making a direct path toward the palace.
“We’ve been a team for a while,” said Radek. “You’ve saved my life at least three times. I won’t repay that by abandoning you when you need me most.”
“Me either,” said Talan. “Seems a shame to break up the band.”
Warrian had no idea what band he meant, but his meaning was clear. “If you come with me and are discovered, I won’t be able to protect you.”
Radek thumped his bare chest. “I’ll protect Talan for you.”
Talan lifted a dark eyebrow, making the marks along his skull shift. “Gee, thanks. My hero. How about we all watch our own asses.”
“There is no time to argue. I need to find a way inside.” If he tried to go in any of the main entrances, he’d be stopped. And even if he wasn’t, he’d never make it to the weapon room before his presence was discovered.
“I know how you can get in,” said Talan.
“How?”
“She’s inside the dome, right?” As Talan asked the question, another bolt of blue energy spewed from the cannon, smashing into the beach where Sekrian’s men fought.
“Yes.”
“The window will open in a minute. I’ll send you to the top of the palace, right over the open dome. You’ll fall in.”
“If he’s not blown to hell by the cannon,” Radek pointed out. “You should send me first, just in case.”
Warrian didn’t care about the risk. Anything that got him to Isa fastest was worth whatever odds he faced. “No. I’ll go. If anything happens to me, you two do whatever it takes to get her out of here.”
The air nearby began to shimmer.
“I’m not afraid to die,” said Radek, as casually as if he were talking about what he’d had for breakfast.
“I’d rather no one died,” said Talan as he toyed with one of his gadgets. “How about I just do the math right and not fuck up the calculations?”
Radek shrugged his bare shoulder. “Anything’s possible.”
“There.” Talan keyed in the destination and tossed the sphere into the pool of light.
Warrian didn’t wait for Radek to go first. He dove right in.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Isa’s fury served her well. The machine seemed to like it, demanding more from her with every strike.
Black, insectoid bodies littered the beach. Severed limbs floated on the turbulent waves, crashing against the rocks to the south. The storm had strengthened as it moved in, and was now raging overhead, drenching everything in sight. She swore she could feel it on her skin, sucking away her body’s vital heat.
The Loriahan warriors had formed a new line, holding a narrow section of land between two jutting stone formations. Those huge slabs of rock were too smooth to be natural. They funneled the enemy in, allowing the much smaller number of warriors to block the enemy’s progress.
Isa did what she could, firing on the approaching forces, reducing their numbers as much as possible. Her aim was off, her mind constantly distracted with thoughts of what was happening to Warrian.
As the last boat exploded in a screeching mass of twisted metal, the machine allowed her to switch her focus. But instead of letting her see Warrian, it showed her the inside of the domed room where she sat.
The whole place was lit with blood red light. Sirens howled nearby. Two dead guards lay slumped on the stone floor with huge, smoking holes ripped through their bodies. Standing near the chair where she sat, she saw a Raide—the same one she’d seen before with school bus yellow hair and skin the color of old snow.
Fear trickled through her, so distant and faint she could hardly feel it. She knew she should be afraid, but her body was simply too weak to react in any meaningful way. Her heart was already pounding as hard as it could. She was already drenched with sweat and rain. Her lungs pumped fast, trying to refuel her ravaged strength.
None of it did any good. She was limp and spent, too weak to even lift her head and watch the Raide come closer. Everything she saw was what the weapon showed her, through its cold, omniscient gaze.
She tried to aim for the Raide, intent on blowing it to hell, but the machine sputtered, giving a sluggish whine as it tried to draw the power it needed to fire—power she no longer had.
Even now, she could hear the Raide’s footsteps on the stone steps, the slight splash of water his foot displaced.
The edges of her vision began to waver. Gray tendrils snaked through her sight, preventing her from seeing the alien’s approach. She knew he would come. And she knew that once he did, she wouldn’t be able to so much as lift her hand to swat him away.
Cold, spindly hands clamped onto her arm, wrenching her from the machine. She tumbled down the wet stone steps, hardly feeling the abuse her body took as it fell. Cold had numbed her limbs. Her head struck the hard floor, but again there was no pain, just the shocking jolt of coming to a sudden stop.
Her eyes refused to focus. She’d become so used to looking through the gaze of the weapon, that everything seemed too close and fuzzy. She could make out the scrawny outline of the Raide and his glaring yellow hair but nothing else.
He got right in her face, letting out a frustrated growl. She had no clue why he’d be frustrated when she was the one crumpled and freezing on the floor.
And then she realized he was trying to make her focus on him so he could shove his pain in her head.
No, thank you.
Isa found the strength to roll over onto her stomach. There, lying on the floor in the distance, was a bright blue smudge. Her mother’s dagger.
Her arms and legs barely functioned as she kind of shoved herself forward. It was the world’s weakest belly crawl, but she scooted a few precious inches closer to h
er weapon.
The Raide stepped over her easily and picked up her knife. The blade gleamed red, reflecting the lights of the room. He tossed her onto her back, pinning her there with his meager weight.
She tried to push him off, but not even the fear streaking through her gave her enough strength to do more than lift her arms a few inches.
“You were the one who cut me. I will forever feel the pain you gave me. Now you will feel my gift to you.”
He shoved the blade into her stomach. Funny how she didn’t feel it going in. All she felt was a distant sense of denial: that this couldn’t possibly be happening.
“It will take you a long time to die,” he said. “Your brain will be fresh for our researchers.” He stood up, not even bothering to hold her down any longer.
Isa looked down and saw the pretty blue hilt protruding from her abdomen. She couldn’t seem to find the strength to summon any fear. She was all tapped out. Completely empty.
And then she saw a starlight shining overhead, growing brighter. Warrian spilled out of the glow, a fierce bellow on his lips. He caught the edge of the weapon’s frame, catapulting himself into a graceful spin. His booted feet landed only a few yards away from her.
He was drenched and spattered with mud. Small cuts lined his cheeks, his blood mixing with the rain as it ran down his face, but he was alive. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life. And as she soaked in the sight of him, a powerful sense of love filled her. It flowed through her veins, driving away the numb cold and forcing her heart to keep beating.
The Raide was still here, a threat to Warrian’s life. No way was she letting go until she was sure he was whole and safe.
Warrian’s gaze flicked to her for a split second. Fury blazed in his dark eyes. Blue strands of lightning stretched between his hands. He didn’t look the Raide in the eye, but his intended target was clear. And armed.
The Raide lifted his weapon—the one that had blown a hole through two other men—and fired.
*****
Kemp saw the window open above and realized what it meant. Loriahan were coming. Without reinforcements, he would die.
