by Josh Hayes
Bella leaned against the doorframe leading into the suite, arms crossed. Dirt and grime smudged her face, and her blue hair was disheveled from the fight. She nodded as they entered. The third climber, her black hair still tied in a long ponytail, stood opposite the girl, hand on a holstered pistol. Her mask was up as well, revealing a deeply tanned face painted red and black. Between them, a naked, barely-conscious man sat in a chair, head hanging slightly to one side, eyes barely open.
"What the hell is this?" Wendy asked, shooting Peter a confused look.
"And I'm okay, thanks for asking," Bella said.
Something flashed near Wendy's head, and she ducked instinctively. A small silver orb hovered in the air, spinning. After a moment, it glided silently to the seated man. It stopped near his chest, a band of dull orange light appearing from it, passing over the man's torso and head.
Wendy turned to Peter for an explanation. He shook his head, holding a finger to his lips.
"Come on, Rendlee," the woman said. "We need to know."
The man in the chair coughed. When he spoke, his voice was weak and raspy. "I… I don't think—" Another fit of coughing cut him off. He raised a hand to cover his mouth. Red ligature marks, where he'd been tied to the chair, surrounded his wrist. His face was a bruised and bleeding mess.
He took a long breath as the coughing fit subsided, then said, "I'm sorry. I just… I just couldn't wait any longer. The Elders, they're weak. They'd never act. I had to do something. If I didn't act, who would, Lily? You?"
The woman sighed. "It wasn't your place to act. That's the Elder's decision."
Rendlee coughed again, shaking his head. Lily squatted down in front of him, putting her hands on his knees. Even through the war paint, Wendy could see that she cared deeply for the wounded man. Tears began to stream down his dirty cheeks. "Please, don't tell Fran. I can't… I couldn't bear that."
Lily shook her head. "You've always been such a fool, Rendlee. Do you think she doesn't know already?"
A mixture of coughing and sobbing came over Rendlee, his shoulders bouncing.
The third warrior entered the apartment behind the Lost Boys, making his way to the small table about the right wall. He started to pick through the pile of electronics and other small effects as Lily and Rendlee continued their conversation.
"How much did you tell them?" Lily asked. When he didn't answer, she said more firmly, "Rendlee? Did you tell them about the Sanctum?"
At that, Rendlee's eyes came fully open and he lifted his head to look at her. "No, I didn't."
"Are you sure?"
"The Sanctum and everyone in it are safe."
The woman gave an obvious sigh of relief.
All four gave a start as the other warrior barked a curse and slammed a fist onto the table. "It's not here," he said, glaring at the wounded Rendlee.
"Where is it, Rendlee?"
"He gave it to them," the man growled.
Rendlee shook his head. "No. They took it. I didn't have a choice."
The woman popped the latch on her holster with her thumb, standing.
Wendy stepped forward. "Whoa, you can't kill him."
"Back off, girl," the woman snapped. "This is none of your concern."
"Please, Lily, I beg you…"
The woman leveled the pistol at Rendlee's head. "You don't get to beg me. You betrayed the Sanctum and endangered the lives of your people. You have forfeited your right to beg."
Wendy could've sworn the man, beaten and bleeding and on the verge of death, laughed. He looked up, past the barrel of the pistol, into the woman's dark eyes. "What life? The Sanctum is no life, it's a death sentence. Why should we spend our lives in squalor while these bastards enjoy everything Nevaris has to offer? For what? Waiting for a victory you and I both know will never come?"
"And what are the costs of these luxuries you've been enjoying? They've certainly cost you much. If Black finds the Fortress…"
"He won't."
"But if he does… Will they be able to access the core?"
Rendlee sat forward and buried his head in his hands. He spoke through his sobs. "Yes, but I doubt they'll be able to interface with the systems. You know how long it took us."
"You're talking about the Graft weapon, aren't you?" Peter asked.
The woman shot him a confused look. "What do you know about it?"
"I don't," Peter told her. "Not really. But we've been tracking this guy down for a while, knowing he'd probably found another lost stash. The dealer he's been working with got a little greedy, started selling to the wrong people. If Black's got hold of it, there's no telling what will stop him."
The woman stood, folding her arms across her chest. "I thought you said you were a friend?"
"I am, we are. We've been fighting against Black for a while now. We were hoping to stop him here." Peter stepped forward, offering his hand. "I'm Pan. These are my friends, the Lost Boys."
She considered him for a moment before taking the offered hand. "Lilliana of the Redleen. That's Brycin. I don't think I've heard of your clan before."
Peter grinned. "That's the way we like it."
"It appears as though you're already familiar with Graft weaponry," Lily said, nodding to the shiftblade on Peter's belt. The silver orb shot forward in a blink, stopping inches from the padded hilt, its orange beam passing over it.
Peter put a hand over the hilt, as if protecting it from the orb's scan. "A little."
"I'm impressed. Operating Graft technology isn't something the average people can understand. I'm surprised you can handle it."
"I do okay."
"Telekinetic operation is a really interesting science," Bella said. "Then again, most of the tech I've worked with requires a more sophisticated controller method than we're able to produce. Whoever they were, the Graft had tremendous mental capabilities."
Lily gave Bella a surprised look. "You understand Graft scientific theory?"
"Eh, I grasp the high points." The blue-haired girl shrugged. "It's what I based the GDF on."
"I'm sorry?"
Bella pointed at the harnesses she and Peter wore. "Gravity Defying Fliers. Designed them myself. Built them myself."
Lily considered the harnesses for a moment. "Impressive."
Bella shrugged again. "I like to tinker."
Irritated, Wendy said, "Okay, but what are we going to do about Black? It doesn't sound like he has this weapon yet, whatever the hell it is. So we can still stop him, right?"
Lily exchanged a look with the other Redleen, who'd moved away from the table and was now just standing, watching the exchange. He considered her for a moment, then gave a noncommittal shake of his head. "Even if we can beat Black to the Fortress, it's unlikely we'd be able to keep him from the weapons."
"Unlikely."
"But we have to try," Wendy said, aware of the desperation in her voice and not caring. "We can't just sit back and let Black win."
"Do you know where he's going?" Peter asked.
Lily looked at Brycin, who nodded.
"Well then, let's go."
"It will not be an easy fight," Lily warned.
Peter laughed, patting the shiftblade's hilt. "Easy isn't in our vocabulary."
Behind Wendy, Tom spoke up. "What about him?"
The Redleen woman looked down at the still-sobbing man, contempt in her eyes. She brought the pistol up again and said, "The Elders have spoken, Rendlee, formerly of the Redleen, and I have been called upon to deal out their Justice. You have lived free, apart from this world, and now you will die free, apart from it. No one will remember you."
Chapter Sixteen
Then
After an hour of trekking through the jungle, which all in Barreen feared, the Graft Fortress was finally visible through the trees. The massive earth-covered dome stood twice as high as the tree canopy, forty feet above the nine Lost Boys and one Redleen warrior. The Redleen woman, Lily, had taken up position off to Wendy's right, behind one of the large br
own canopy trees, her attention fully on the hidden Graft Fortress.
The jungle ended abruptly, emptying into a large clearing where the Fortress stood at the base of a sheer rock cliff. The cliffs reached almost two hundred feet into the air and stretched for several miles in either direction. If she hadn't known what she was looking at, Wendy could have sworn the Fortress was just a part of the rock face beyond. From where she stood, the Fortress was nothing more than a dark shape through the trees; but she'd had a chance to see the dome several miles back, and even from that distance the structure was intimidating. Up close, it was downright unnerving. Not to mention the heavily armed soldiers patrolling the clearing surrounding it.
"Hey," Lily called under her breath. "Keep an eye on those three, I'm going to scout a little bit more to the north."
Wendy turned to answer, but the Redleen woman was already moving away, disappearing through the thick foliage. Frustrated, she brought her rifle up, laying it over the fallen tree she'd taken cover behind. The woman, while she'd finally given into Peter's offer of combining forces, didn't seem to like the idea. Her companion, Brycin, had seemed to care less for the idea that she had.
The Blackhand guards stood just outside a small alcove at the base of the Fortress, quietly chatting amongst themselves. All were armed with rifles, but none looked especially worried about attack.
They don't expect anyone to come all the way out here from the city, Wendy thought.
A row of three heavily-armed skiffs sat a few hundred feet away from the alcove, their pilots paying more attention to inspecting their craft than to their surroundings. One had even sprawled out on his back in the passenger compartment, apparently taking a nap.
Wendy felt movement next to her, and looked up as Tom squatted down beside her.
"I don't like this," Wendy told him, without actually knowing why.
Tom, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet during their journey, laughed. "Really? What about being stuck in the middle of a jungle filled with man-eating monsters, chasing after a group of heavily-armed men who won't hesitate to kill every single one of us, led by some mysterious woman who shoots her own people when they cross her, don't you like?"
"Hey," Carter hissed, "keep your voice down." Tom rolled his eyes, started to move away, then froze as distant laughter reached them. All three froze. Two of the guards at the alcove were doubled over, laughing, while the third was picking himself off the ground, glaring at his companions.
After a moment, Wendy let out a long breath and gave Tom a glare of her own. He shook his head and carefully moved off.
"They sure aren't doing a very good job of guarding, are they?" Carter said, crouching beside Wendy.
Wendy nodded. "We're in the middle of jungle that no one ever ventures out into. They aren't expecting anyone to bother them."
"Yeah, but you'd think they'd be paying a little bit better attention than that. Hell, we could probably walk right up behind them and they'd never know."
"I doubt that."
"How many do you think are out there?"
"Not sure," Wendy told him, cocking her head to look through her rifle's optic. "Each one of those skiffs over there carries at least eight. If they were full—"
The roar of engine turbines cut her off, and the jungle thrashed around them. They both ducked, heads snapping upward, looking for the source of the hot exhaust wash. The canopy overhead blocked much of her view, but Wendy could just make out the shape of a skiff flying past. Her stomach turned.
"Holy crap," Carter said. "Is that Ace?"
"No, it can't be, it's not time yet."
Carter snatched his comm from a pocket on his vest. "Ace! Ace, is that you? What are you doing?"
The passing engines noise drowned out the reply, and Carter repeated his frantic question. Wendy frowned, trying to discern the shape through the trees. It seemed too big to be a regular skiff.
A faint response came through. The words were garbled and inaudible over the engines.
"What? Say again, Ace, you didn't come through. What are you doing? None of us are in position yet."
Wendy centered her optic on the guards, who were pointing up at the approaching aircraft. After adjusting their gear, they formed up, but made no move to bring their weapons to bear on the incoming skiff.
Ace's voice came through the comm. "What's that, Carter? I didn't copy."
"Ace, are you there? Did you just fly over us?"
"What are you talking about, Carter? We're still at the rally point, waiting for you slow shits. What the hell is going on?"
Carter hesitated, watching with Wendy as the craft slowed and descended toward the ground. They got their first good look at the craft, and instantly Wendy knew what it was.
The yacht was indeed larger than any regular skiff Wendy had ever seen, at least three times as long and twice as wide. Instead of two main turbines, this craft sported four, two in the front and two in the back, all of which moved in synch as the yacht flared, then touched down fifty feet from where the guards were now standing at full attention. A section of the port-side fuselage popped out and slid open, revealing a large passenger compartment. Four men climbed out, and Wendy's heart pounded.
The first man to appear from the yacht was tall, needing to duck under the port-side turbine mounted neat the bow of the craft. Engine wash blew his long black coat around him, revealing all-black clothing underneath. He wore a holstered pistol strapped to his leg, and a shiftblade attached to his belt. His neatly trimmed, jet-black beard matched his hair, slicked back, precisely cut.
He turned and spoke to a taller man--dressed in a matching coat, but his shirt and pants were blood red, and he wore a wide-brimmed red hat that bathed his face in shadow.
Black, Wendy thought, feeling a lump in her throat.
The Captain turned, waiting for a second man who also had to duck under the turbine. The second man held onto a wide-brimmed black hat, trimmed in red, ensuring the engine wash wouldn't blow it off his head. He wore an identical black coat, though the clothes he wore underneath weren't black; they were a very distinct red. He straightened as he stepped past the turbine, letting go of the hat, scanning around, taking in his surroundings.
"That's James," Carter said, pointing. "That's gotta be Black, holy shit!" He lifted the comm again. "Pan, Pan, are you there? Black just landed, they're entering the Graft Fortress. Pan, can you hear me?"
Pan sounded out of breath. "We're trying to get into position on the back entrance. Give us about five."
"Copy that," Carter said.
Wendy barely heard him. Everything around her faded to a distant, unimportant shadow as she brought the crosshairs down, centering them on Black. She kept the crosshairs trained on him, blood pounding in her ears as he made his way through the clearing. Her chest heaved, and she felt the weight of the entire world on her shoulders as slid her finger over the trigger. She could end the war right now, before it really had a chance to get going. But what if she missed?
Take the shot, her father's voice told her.
The rifle thundered and bucked against her shoulder. Carter cried out, surprised, and ducked for cover. Shouts and curses from the Blackhand soldiers filled the air. Frantic, Wendy steadied her hold on the weapon and looked through the optic, checking her shot.
No. Her stomach turned and she had to fight from vomiting. She caught a glimpse of Black and his cohorts running across the clearing; then a second later they disappeared through the alcove, into the Graft Fortress.
Gunfire erupted through the clearing as the soldiers overcame their initial surprise. Bullets ripped through the jungle, tearing through leaves and shredding the trees around them to pieces. Wendy dove to the ground, curling into the smallest ball she could make.
"Shit, shit, shit!" she cried. She screamed in her mind. How could you miss, he was right there?
Shouting filled the air around her, and the Lost Boys took cover wherever they could find it. Wendy brushed hair out of her face and
spit dirt and grime from her lips. She stared up at the disintegrating jungle, cursing herself for her mistake. Branches and bits of bark rained down around them, and leaves twisted and fluttered through the air, some catching more fire as they fell and burst apart in puffs of green.
We're all going to die out here.
"What the hell are you thinking?" Carter screamed over the cacophony of gunfire. Carter lifted his rifle above a fallen tree and fired wildly back at the soldiers.
Wendy looked at him, not really understanding the words he was saying.
He shouted at her again, eyes wide. "Wendy!"
Another figure appeared beside Carter, her red- and black-painted face streaked with sweat. The Redleen woman had to shout over the gunfire. "What the hell happened?"
Carter ducked at another barrage, then said, "I don't know, she just started shooting." He jerked his head at Wendy.
Lily frowned at Wendy. "What is it? What happened?"
Wendy tried to remember, but for some reason she had trouble recalling what had been so important. She brushed a fallen leaf away from her face. "I… I don't…" Then she knew. She sat up, remembering. "He's here. Black is here!"
"Damn it, Wendy!" Carter shouted, pulling her back down. Several sharp cracks ripped through the air as bullets shredded the fallen trunk, sending bark flying everywhere.
Lily seemed to consider Wendy for a moment. Finally she said, "Are you sure?" The small orb appeared over Lily's shoulder, lights blinking slowly, almost as if it was considering what Wendy was saying.
A cold sense of purpose washed over her as the realization hit home. "Positive. He's here."
Lily quickly glanced around, as if she was trying to come up with a plan.
Another voice crackled over the comm. Dash, one of the new additions to the group, was panting, shouting over the gunfire. "Wendy, the skiffs!"
"I'll take care of them," the Redleen woman said. She pointed at Tom. "Come with me!"
Tom's face twisted in indignation. "Now, hold on—"
