Warlord Conquering (The Great Insurrection Book 3)

by David Beers

  Fate had brought them here, and her child Thoreaux was suffering. The team she'd assembled, the family, only had each other. She couldn't help them.

  Fate would have to carry them to victory or doom.

  Ares had fought beside Alistair his entire adult life. He'd known the man's habits, his style, his dislikes, yet the man he was fighting next to now wasn't the same. The man now known as Prometheus was a terror on the battlefield such as humanity had never seen.

  Ares knew Alistair didn't trust him. Maybe Ares shouldn't trust his former friend either, but he was beyond that. He had no doubts about what they were walking into—most likely a brutal death. If it was at Alistair's hands or the underworld killer’s, what did it matter? All he truly cared about was restoring his honor, even if only a tiny bit.

  He'd turned on his friend because he'd been commanded to.

  He'd helped burn a planet to ash because he'd been commanded to.

  He'd traveled the universe chasing the man without asking why because he'd been commanded to.

  He'd witnessed the torture of an individual and done nothing.

  Ares had forgotten the last lesson until now, and as he walked forward to step onto this new battlefield, he wondered what his father would think of him. Would he believe him evil for the things he'd done, or would he be proud that Ares had found a different path? Would he think him foolish for throwing his life away in this battle?

  Maybe one day he'd get the chance to ask him. Probably not, but possibly.

  Right now, he wanted a chance to right his wrongs as best he could.

  He stopped next to the giant, and they looked out on the killing field. More giants as far as Ares could see, all of them huge the way planets were. "Let's do this, big man."

  He started the jets on his boots and flew into the air as the giant rushed across the yard, screaming with rage.

  Alistair watched Ares take off. The Titan had attached his Whip to his belt and pulled out two StarBeams. He fired with the easy skill of someone who had practiced such moves for countless hours. Heads exploded as Ares floated above them, using the jets on his boots to position himself.

  The enemy fired at him, but he zigged and zagged, eluding them while countering their fire.

  Caesar had nearly reached the group of giants, and the rest of Alistair's crew had spread out on the walls. They maintained a good distance between each of them as their pulses and beams hit the crowd.

  Prometheus stepped onto the field, his face and body covered in blood. Some was his, but most of it was from others.

  He started forward, his feet pounding on dirt that had been brought in for training. His eyes strained forward, taking in everything at once. This was his chance to change the tide of the battle. He had to convince these giants that they could not kill him, and he could not be killed.

  Caesar was ten meters from the mass of monsters when he dropped to a knee, shaping his back like a ramp into the sky. Prometheus understood what to do. He reached the giant in seconds and ran up his back, then leapt off the giant's shoulders.

  Ares turned in the sky so the two faced each other, Pro having leapt high enough that his head had reached the Titan's foot. Ares pointed two StarBeams at his face, and for one awful second, Prometheus thought he was dead.

  Ares aimed both StarBeams below Alistair and started firing.

  You son of a bitch, Prometheus thought with glee. The bastard had been toying with him. He looked down at the space that opened up as giants tried to dodge the beams. Insects were starting to flow from their hands, a black horde beneath him. Prometheus hit the ground in a crouch, his Whip's tentacles floating above his head.

  His Whip gave him a reach of five meters, and legs detached from bodies as he spun. Screams rang out, and more insects rushed into the air. The nanotech from his enemies was creating a cloud for Prometheus, helping hide him from those who wanted to kill him. He didn't know what was happening outside of this crowd or whether his friends were dying. He could see nothing but the giants around him.

  Those he hadn't cut down charged over their dying compatriots.

  Prometheus had a brief second before they fell on him. He closed his eyes and let his body take over.

  Ares watched from on high, barely able to keep firing due to what he was seeing.

  The rest of the battle, including those on the wall and the giants at the front, had ceased to matter. Everyone knew where the battle raged—beneath Ares.

  Alistair fought like a madman, a storm unto himself. The giants swung their laser blades and dove at his body. Those that did touch him could only do it for a second as he dodged and wove through the crowd. His Whip was like a red ghost, only there for a second before snatching someone's life away. Ares didn't understand the flying insects that were swarming, but they provided Alistair the cover necessary to create this havoc.

  Ares kept firing, shooting through torsos, heads, and anything else he could hit.

  Someone finally tagged him where it mattered—in his boot heel where the jet resided. It didn't malfunction entirely, just the jet, but he zigged in the wrong direction.

  Ares was going down; there was no way to stay up. "ODIN!" he shouted through the speakers. "MAN FALLING!"

  The former Titan looked up, understanding, and started to clear a path.

  Ares kept firing all the way down, and before he hit, he freed his Whip from his belt.

  Pro's sky cover was gone. He saw Ares falling, his remaining jet managing to slow the descent, and knew that he had to make room for him. The gigantes would rip him apart if he fell on top of them, Whip or no.

  Prometheus slashed, spun, and jumped. The enemy’s insects flew in front of his face, a swarm larger than he could have imagined. He felt them scrape his skin, creating light cuts as he pushed forward.

  He was finally directly under Ares. Prometheus stuck his arm out and kept spinning in a circle. Heads rolled from bodies, but before Ares touched down, Pro halted.

  They knew this dance. They'd done it so many times that no communication was needed. They found each other’s backs, faced opposite ways, and started to fight. Monstrous square heads appeared and disappeared. Blades and fists sliced at them and were detached.

  "DUCKING!" Ares shouted and Prometheus reacted, spinning his Whip where Ares' head had been moments before. A body hit the ground as Ares popped back up and Prometheus dipped down.

  Another body dropped, then both were standing again.

  "THERE ARE TOO MANY!" Ares shouted, and Prometheus knew it was true. They couldn't hold them off much longer. No matter how many they killed, more came, and those who were only injured were rapidly being healed.

  Prometheus had to do something. The giants' bloodlust had to be stopped, and they had to see him as the most dreadful force ever born into this gods-forsaken universe.

  A laser blade caught Ares in the stomach, burning through the metal gear. He slashed at the arm wielding the blade and sliced it off, but the damage was done.

  He fell to a knee and coughed blood into his helmet.

  The arm and blade still stuck out of his stomach.

  "I'm hit," said a watery voice from his suit's speaker.

  Pro looked over his shoulder. He'd never seen Ares in that position, on the ground and dying. He could see no other allies.

  A blade sliced down his back, cutting through flesh and tendons.

  Death had finally come for the great Prometheus. His Whip, his strength, his speed—none of it was enough. Even fighting with his protégé, he hadn't been enough.

  A blade cut across his thickly muscled thigh, and Prometheus went to a knee.

  He looked down at the ground.

  He closed his eyes.

  He saw Luna.

  He felt the laser blade touch his neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “In some ways, I am my father.”

  —The AllMother

  The AllMother saw blood spring from her chosen one's back.

  She watched as he
swung his Whip, laying another one low. The Titan in crimson was on the ground, dying, a blade and arm sticking out of his stomach.

  A laser cut through her chosen one's leg, and he went to the ground. The AllMother saw it all with her eyes closed.

  Alex felt no fear. She alone knew she still had tricks up her sleeve, things that only one other knew about. When she was trapped on the dreadnought, she’d thought it might be time, but it had turned out not to be.

  Now was the time, and it would bring a host of new dangers, but she'd known long ago what it would take to achieve her goal.

  The only other person in the universe had been the man who modified Alistair. The work he'd done could have killed the former Titan, but Alex had kept the faith. She'd known she had chosen correctly.

  Now was the time. It had to be, or all was lost.

  Using the rest of her mental strength, she shouted at Alistair, Now! Become!

  There were three people on the wall, all of them firing endless shots into the mass of people.

  Relm was severely injured; plasma had blown off half his shoulder.

  Faitrin and Servia were still moving, still shooting, but they both knew the battle was lost. Caesar was still fighting, though one of his arms had been shattered. Ares had fallen from the sky and was lost from view.

  Servia couldn't even see Prometheus, and above it all, the man they'd come to save floated on a chair, eyes swollen shut and body broken.

  They'd lost. Servia kept firing. Her StarBeam overheated in her hand and burned her flesh, but she didn't stop. She wouldn't stop until she was dead.

  Servia aimed, then paused. She felt a wind, which shouldn't be possible, not in this underground stadium. No weather could make it this far down.

  Her pause only lasted for a single moment because there was an explosion in the middle of the crowd. She didn't know if it was wind, fire, or earth, only that giants and other people rose into the air. They flew off their feet and rose five or ten meters in the air. Some smashed into the top of the stadium, bending metal and breaking their necks. Servia felt herself rise too, and she slammed into the wall behind her.

  The force held her there, pushing her arms and legs against the wall. She dropped the StarBeam. Dead bodies rose into the air, as well as dirt and dust—everything but one person.

  Prometheus was on one knee in the middle, looking at the ground as if nothing was happening around him.

  Bodies slammed into the wall next to Servia, and she heard their bones crack. Bodies rolled across the ground. Everything was moving away from the center of the stadium, away from the man who was somehow causing it.

  Prometheus stood, his red eyes staring at this new world. Blood dripped from his body.

  Servia’s bones started to creak. He was going to kill them all. Whatever he was doing, it was too much. He had to stop.

  "PRO! HELP US!" she shouted into the wind roaring past her.

  The man with the red eyes blinked.

  Everything dropped. Servia fell to her hands and knees, then looked up. Prometheus was marching forward, looking for someone among the wounded and dead. Servia was having a tough time catching her breath. The pressure had knocked it out of her.

  She tried to scramble forward but fell on her stomach, so she lay flat while she watched Prometheus. He stopped above the Titan in the crimson MechSuit, then bent and picked the man up, something that was impossible for a regular human.

  He carried the dying Titan to one of the giants, and Servia heard his cry from across the stadium.

  "Heal him!"

  The giant was lying on his back, but he slowly rolled over and got to his feet. He could have pummeled Prometheus, the man still holding the Titan.

  Instead, the giant said, "Yes, master," and placed his hand on the dying Titan's stomach.

  The insects flowed from his hand and latched onto Ares.

  Epilogue

  Alistair kept mostly to himself over the next week, although he checked on the wounded in his party to make sure they were healing. The gigantes had done the best they could in the yard. Not a single one raised a fist to Alistair after he'd done what he'd done.

  They followed his commands and healed his wounded as well as theirs, though at that point, they were all his. The humans who survived were granted life. All the fight had gone out of them. Out of everyone, including the underworld leader.

  He, the man named Manius, understood that any war was now unwinnable. He faced extermination, so at that point, he offered his help to Alistair. The medbay was open to them, the medical droids available, and his crew was given a place to stay. He just asked that when they left, they told a different story than what had actually happened.

  Alistair didn't give a damn about the story. He wanted to rest.

  The AllMother and Obs were brought inside the fortress, but Alistair didn't visit the old woman.

  He remained with Obs in the quarters assigned to him. He knew what had happened. He had heard the AllMother shout in his mind, then felt something entirely new. His mind had attacked. It had seen everyone as an enemy and ripped forward without caring. His mind had done what it took to protect him.

  It was a power Alistair didn't want. He didn't understand it, and it had almost killed those he loved.

  At the end of the week, he went to the AllMother. He'd kept tabs on her, having Servia update him from time to time on what was happening outside his quarters. Alex had rested a lot and now acted like nothing special had happened. She didn't seem disturbed in the slightest.

  Servia, for her part, was awestruck. She didn't mention it, but it was in the way she moved and the way she spoke, as if Alistair had changed from the man who had arrived here.

  He didn't mention it either. He wanted to wait until he spoke to the AllMother.

  Alistair didn't knock, just entered and shut the door. She was sitting in a chair and staring out a window on her right.

  "Did you know I was coming?" he asked as he put his hands on the back of the only other chair in the room. It was pulled up to the left of hers.

  She nodded.

  Alistair sat down. Neither said anything for some minutes, then he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "Did you know what you were doing to me when you modified me? Did the man who did it know?"

  The AllMother nodded again.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Alistair's voice sounded desperate. "Why didn't you give me the option to decide if I wanted it?"

  The AllMother remained quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was calm. "I've taken a lot of chances with you, Alistair. This whole endeavor has been a very large chance, and I couldn't see around the corners. I had to trust myself and you. You will never realize the lengths I went to to get to know you before I met you."

  She folded her hands in her lap and continued looking out the window as she spoke.

  "I understood what you'd do to get back to your wife: almost anything. I wasn't sure you would accept the power you now have, though. I thought you might deny something that great if you knew the truth." Her eyes found his. "I would have been right, wouldn't I?"

  Alistair met her gaze but said nothing.

  She finally looked back out the window, and the room was silent once again.

  After long seconds, he said, "I should have been given a choice."

  The AllMother nodded. "You should have been. As should I have been. Evil for evil. Perhaps it will cancel out everything that's happened. That is my hope, anyway."

  Alistair sat there staring out the window with her, a new expanse having opened between him and the old woman. A new bond had formed between them as well. Only the two of them had this power that had been forced on her a thousand years before.

  Now it had been forced on him.

  Alistair stood up. "I'll never be like you," he told her.

  She nodded, showing no emotion. "I hope you never have to decide, Alistair. Truthfully."

  Alistair hadn't seen Ares since the yard. Servia had kept tabs
on the Titan and given Alistair updates. The giants and the medbay had healed him, and the other Primus had remained at his side almost the whole time. Alistair had learned her name was Veena back on the dreadnought. From what he understood, she had said she would never fight on the Subversives’ side, but she would wait for Ares to do so, assuming he lived. Well, Alistair didn't understand everything that had happened between them, but he knew they were never going back to Earth.

  At the end of the week, they were ready to leave this planet. They had no interest in staying on it any longer.

  Alistair went to their ship. The woman was carrying a bag onto the small transport that would take them to a larger ship that waited.

  Ares saw him coming and set his bag on the ground.

  He met Alistair ten meters from the ship.

  "I don't know what to say," Alistair told him.

  Ares grinned. "Me either."

  "I know what you told me back at the yard, but what about her?" Alistair motioned with his head at Veena.

  Ares shrugged, his grin dropping as he looked at the woman. She was leaning against the transport's door, watching them. Ares turned back to Alistair. "When the curtain's pulled back, it's impossible to unsee what's behind it. I think we both saw what we'd become if we ignored it."

  "Where are you going to go?"

  Ares sighed and looked at the sky. "If I learned anything from all this, it's that there are a lot of worlds out there. I'll find something to do, and if you don't die during this little insurrection of yours, maybe I'll end up back on Earth."

  Alistair had not asked him to join the cause, and he was sure Ares never thought about signing up. He'd done his deed, almost died for it, and now for the first time in his life, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

  Ares shoved his hands in his pockets. "You'll have some time now, but I'm sure you know that. Hel didn't say a word to the Commonwealth about where we are, and she disabled the tracking devices on the ship we used. They're going to search for you, I'm sure of that, but you’ll have a chance to get your legs under you. You've got that little army of giants, too."