Not a dream?
“I’m...” ‘Okay’ was probably not the right word. She blinked and tried to focus on the face hovering over her. “I’m alive.”
Yes, that was about right.
Sacmis heaved out a sigh and trailed a finger down Hera’s temple. “You’re bleeding.”
“See? Not dead. The dead do not bleed.” Hera smiled for Sacmis, although her face hurt as if someone had tried to smash it in — had someone tried? — and sat up. She squinted as memory returned. “Are we out?”
“We’re above ground.” Sacmis straightened, a hand pressed to her ribs. “You should thank the stars for that thick skull of yours.”
Hera frowned — and that hurt, too — trying to gauge how badly off Sacmis was. She seemed to be moving fine, at least.
Mantis sat in one of the two command chairs of the cockpit, rubbing his face. “It looks like we made it.”
Made it out alive. And now...
Sacmis dropped into the seat next to Mantis. “Right. Let’s get her on the road.”
Mantis leaned forward, eyeing the various instruments and gauges, and groaned. “Her?”
“The machine’s obviously a female,” Sacmis said, flicking a switch on. The cockpit shook and somewhere below them a powerful engine started. “Beautiful, sleek and with her guns ready.”
Hera swallowed a snort at Mantis’ wide-eyed expression as she heaved herself to her feet. She wondered if he’d ever had a girlfriend and decided probably not — caught up in war strategy since he was little.
So young.
“Move over,” she told him and he slid out of the padded chair without a word. He stood watching as she took her seat and looked the panel over.
“What do you think?” Sacmis’ gray eyes narrowed as she brushed her fingers over the buttons and levers.
“I think once you’ve driven one vehicle you’ve driven them all.”
“Then I should be able to do it, too.” Mantis leaned forward, a pale brow arching. He had a dark bruise on his jaw.
“Sit tight, mortal.” Hera licked her dry lips. The panel glowed in front of her like a constellation. She tapped her fingers on the dials, trailed them down to a button. Yes, there were similarities with the panel of the seleukids, the military airplanes, thank all the gods for that. “All right. Let’s see how fast she can move.” She flicked on a switch which would hopefully turn on the thrusters.
A scraping noise came from under their feet, the hum of an engine being activated. Sacmis’ mouth opened, to issue a warning perhaps, but the war machine lurched forward and the sudden whine drowned out whatever she’d been about to say.
Hera brushed the dust off a rectangular button and pressed it. A lever unfolded from a depression in the panel. “Steering lever,” she muttered and put both hands around it, clasping it tightly. “Brace yourselves.”
She pushed it and they shot forward through the fields.
“Hells,” Mantis whispered, lowering himself to a crouch between the chairs. “This thing’s goddamn fast.”
Hera remembered huge wheels in the war machines she’d seen in the past, and imagined them rolling over the K-bloom plants, crushing them as they advanced toward the road. “Let’s just hope the ground is solid enough.”
As if there was an option of turning back, or getting out to test the ground before moving on. Grinding her teeth, Hera turned the machine toward their abandoned aircar.
“We’ll need to take the heavenway,” Sacmis ground out. “Maybe it’s time we checked how the weapons work.”
“That’s your job,” Hera snapped, all her focus on driving the huge tower. “You have little time, so get on with it, senet.”
“Yes, hatha.” Sacmis sounded mildly amused. “At your command.”
“Am I missing something?” Mantis drawled. “I thought snapping at each other was considered love talk among your race.”
Hera glared at the darkness ahead, searching blindly for the headlights. Instead she hit the accelerator and heard Mantis grunt as he was jostled where he crouched on the floor. She grinned.
“It is,” she said. “Love talk. Now shut your mouth and check the map.”
Chapter Fourteen
The cannons of the war machine boomed, and the metal tower shook its tiny inhabitants. Hera gritted her teeth, her grip on the steering lever white-knuckled.
Mantis had fisted his hands in the map and Hera wanted to tell him to stop or he’d destroy it — but could not find the energy.
Sacmis wiped her brow on the back of her hand and grinned savagely. “The road’s free now.”
“I can see that,” Hera said dryly. The blockade had been blown to pieces. Her stomach roiled and she tried to ignore the little voice in her head crowing about victory and defeating the weak.
Death, death and more death, dammit.
As she drove on, the war machine rolling smoothly on the broad heavenway, she tried to understand what was happening inside her. Regina had not pushed her to do what she’d been expecting — kill Mantis, for instance. In fact, Regina had been pretty much quiet, apart from the occasional cacophony inside her head, and she wondered if the drugs were not yet completely out of her system.
Or if Regina was letting her off the hook. Maybe having survived the initial madness, the onset of maturation meant she would not go crazy after all.
Was it possible? Was it probable? Was the critical phase over?
Aircars followed them. They had since the first roadblock they’d blown up, and after all, a metal tower rolling on the main road was hard to miss. Nothing they threw at the war machine would stop it, though. Hera had not even felt the impact of the heavy artillery that had appeared in intervals, trying to block their way.
Had not felt it when the war machine trampled over the aircars and cannons.
Hells.
Take the next exit south,” Mantis said, his gaze still on the map.
“A lesser road might not take the weight of the machine,” Hera said automatically.
“Last intel we had before leaving Istros says two war machines are guarding the entrance to Dakru City,” Mantis said. “A lesser road might be just the thing we need.”
Hera frowned, having to admit that chancing the war machine sinking slightly into the road was not as bad as getting gunned down before even reaching the city.
“If the machines are still there...” Sacmis muttered as they took the exit and rolled down the southern road toward the mountains. “You know what it might mean.”
Yeah, Hera knew. It meant the distraction Elei, Kalaes and Alendra had prepared had not worked. She clenched her jaw.
Gultur would not have failed such a task, easy in comparison to taking out the machine from the ground and attacking the capital of the regime. But mere mortals had been set to the task and had predictably failed.
Hera raised a hand to her head, then waved the voice away as if it were an annoying insect.
Damn you, Regina. We did not set them an easy task. Anyone can fail when luck is not helping.
Dakru City glittered on their left like a lake of light, streetlights and reflectors, the moonstone used for the official buildings giving a soft white glow.
Beautiful. It was her city, by right, along with Bone Tower, the heart of Gultur power and culture. Mine.
Hera tightened her hold on the steering lever until she thought she might leave skin embedded in the grip. Interesting. Regina’s prodding was becoming more subtle, harder to detect.
But she had detected it and was not going to pay attention.
She wrenched her gaze off Dakru City and concentrated on the road with its faint demarcation lines and the dark hamlets they passed, followed by expanses of bushland and the occasional algae pond.
“I think I know how the rockets are launched,” Sacmis muttered, bent over a set of switches on the control panel. “Wicked.”
Mantis snorted.
“Can you hit the two war machines at the gates before they blow us up?” Her
a eyed Sacmis, who hesitated. Soon they’d have to turn toward the capital. It was time to breach the city.
“If I hit the cockpits, perhaps. They seem to be vulnerable spots.”
“Then why has no-one shot our cockpit?” Mantis asked.
Hera, who was wondering the same thing, cocked a brow at Sacmis.
“I do not think their artillery can break this glass.” She shrugged. “But a shot from a war machine cannon might. These rockets are something else.”
“Have the cannons ready, then.” Hera decelerated and brought the war machine around. She set it toward the burning lights, building up speed. The glow of the city intensified as they approached, the defensive walls rising higher. “Let’s bring them down and take over.”
“Better hurry, then.” Mantis pointed, his face white. “I think they’ve spotted us.”
***
Elei walked a dark street, his feet so light he floated at times, hovering over the asphalt. Wisps of brilliance wound around his legs like creepers, blossoming on his thighs, kissing his skin like blades, cold and stinging.
Why was he there?
Gravity pulled him, and it tasted of sadness. He landed hard on the street, bones jarring, and he knew something was wrong.
He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to know, so instead he stared at his fisted hands. If he didn’t look up, he wouldn’t be forced to find out, and he wanted the reprieve, for once.
But he couldn’t be other than what he was; couldn’t stop himself from choosing to know, so he looked.
Corpses laid out at his feet, dead eyes staring up at the sky. Alendra, Kalaes, Pelia, Jek, Afia, Dain, Zoe... Everyone he’d ever known.
Do something, a voice whispered in his ear. Do something or lose everything.
He gasped and struggled to wake as he was loaded like a sack on an aircar deck, rolling until he slammed into a wall. Pain flared, his eyes fluttered open — another jab of pain in his neck — and reality fragmented once more, disintegrating into blackness.
When he came around again, he lay on his side in a dark, dank space smelling of mold and water. He was alone — at least he was pretty sure he was, his pulse thundering so loud in his ears he wouldn’t have heard even a fleet of seleukids approach.
One thing he was certain of: the headache had quadrupled, at the very least. His pulse thudded as if someone was trying to kick out his skull with steel-toed boots.
And he had to be inside Bone Tower.
He tried to move and found he was handcuffed. His ankles shackled together, too. Pissing perfect.
He tested the manacles, but only half-heartedly. Maybe it was a good thing his hands were tied. He wouldn’t be able to tear off his head to end the maddening pain.
The clicking and humming filling his ears wasn’t helping. And a voice talking in a monotonous monologue.
Wait... He wasn’t alone? He stilled, drew a quiet breath.
Sweet scent.
Gultur.
He tried to roll over and his efforts ended in a strangled groan and a moment of white-hot pain. No, better not move. Gods, he felt as if a streetcar had rolled over him. Repeatedly.
Okay, think, dammit.
Or maybe listen.
“We have Rex. Yes, senet, the boy as well as the girl,” the woman was saying. An unfamiliar, bass voice. “We do not know where his other friends are.”
Was this one of Iset’s people? Had their mad plan worked? Had they taken over the temple of Bone Tower?
The humming of machinery, then the zip and crackle of static. A communicator. “Yes, we can display him, then broadcast the sacrifice. I’m certain that will shake the morale of those daring to attack the capital.” A pause. “Yes, he’s tied up and sedated. Everything’s under control. If we play this well, they’ll surrender, be forced to negotiate at the very least.”
The attack. Hera and Mantis were attacking Dakru City, and he was to be shown as a trophy, then killed. Iset and Bestret had failed. Bone Tower still stood and he was to be used against the resistance.
Though he was pretty sure Hera wouldn’t stop on his behalf. She’d do what was right. He could count on her.
Right?
He had to escape, before his capture ruined everything. Where was Alendra? How to get out of there?
His whole body vibrated. The headache spiked and he shut his eyes. Who had the key to his shackles? How to leave the room?
Rex sent pulses of pain in his possessed eye.
Get me out of here, buddy. Come on. Please.
When the world burst with burning colors, he welcomed it, embraced it. That’s it. He pulled on the shackles, and the chain binding them clinked. Pain flared down his shoulders, his bruised back. Help me out here.
But the bindings wouldn’t give, and he had to stop and grit his teeth. Think, dammit. The woman in the room wouldn’t have the keys. But maybe those who came to take him to Regina’s temple would. He had no idea how sacrifices were performed –he’d seen men getting shot in the back when he’d first arrived in Dakru, and he hoped it wouldn’t unfold that way.
“Holy Nunet,” another female voice said from behind, “is that a war machine?”
“It’s heading to Dakru City,” the other said in hushed tones. “Where did they get it? I thought HQ said the resistance consisted of unarmed street kids.”
Surprise, Elei thought and grinned.
***
There they were, as the intel had said, the two metal towers at the entrance of the city. No distraction, no decoy to keep the eyes off them.
Hera swallowed. Gods, had her friends been captured? Were they dead?
The war machines were moving to intercept them, giant metal cones. Lights played along their surface, and their cannons were emerging like a cat’s claws.
“This isn’t looking good,” Mantis whispered.
“Did you not say we’re the hope of the Seven Islands?” Sacmis was moving switches and fiddling with dials. “Was your faith in us so short-lived?”
“Not funny,” Mantis said. “Really, Sacmis.”
“No faith at all,” Sacmis said, sounding disgusted.
“Sacmis,” Hera hissed. “Stop talking and do it. You’re the best shot in the Seven Islands. Show them.”
“With pleasure.” Sacmis pulled two shiny black levers up and clasped them in her hands. “On your command.”
***
Breathing quietly where he lay tied up on the floor, each breath disturbing the dust by his cheek, Elei waited. Soon he caught a different scent: sharper, sweeter. Elite. An Echo princess, like Hera. He knew the elite Gultur was there before she walked through the door.
Three of them now. Time to strike.
Rex growled, raising his heartbeat, making his limbs tingle. Wait, he told himself. Wait. Find out more.
“War machine.” The Echo, Diona, grunted and tapped something on a keyboard. “How is that possible? Are you sure this is a live feed?”
“Yes, Commander. This one is being recorded by the cameras on the northern gate and retransmitted by the central in Dakru City.”
Elei wanted to see what was happening, but didn’t dare move; the last thing he wanted was another dose of sedative.
“The corrupted ones we apprehended claimed the leaders of the attack are friends with this prisoner here. The threat of executing him should stop them.”
Iset and Bestret. Caught. No nope of help from them, then. He was on his own.
“They say he’s Rex,” another said, her voice rising.
“Even better, though he looks like a scrawny child to me. Right now, immediate measures are necessary,” the Echo Commander said. “Commander Demeter, change to live transmission to the Regina temple and put it on the giga screens. We’ll initiate the sacrifice immediately.”
Immediate measures. That was all Elei heard. He let out a long, quiet breath and grinned savagely, Rex screeching inside his head. The Echo’s scent saturated everything, erasing every other smell, making his heart boom and his
hands curl in their bonds.
Come to me.
Two sets of steps approached him — soft thumps of military boots on hard flooring — and the faint clinking of a thin chain reached his ears. The keys?
Rough hands grabbed and sat him upright. He let them, allowed them to pull him to his feet next, and a good thing as the sudden height sent black splotches to his vision and numbed his legs. A Gultur steadied him. His eyes had barely cleared when the Echo princess stepped in front of him.
Rex thumped the back of his eyeball, distorting the image, turning her oval face into a long muzzle. He’d expected it but still he recoiled, then strained toward her as Rex reacted.
Blood. He wanted to taste her blood, slash her throat and spill it on the floor, see her die.
She must have seen something in his face because she took a step back, mouth opening — all lost in a blaze of pulsing colors.
He jerked free and launched himself at the Echo, the chains of his manacles clanking. Shouldering into her, he threw her down and fell on top, driving the air from her lungs. He squirmed and twisted, thrusting his knees on either side of her head.
The sound of a bullet sliding into a chamber rang loud, and he threw himself sideways. The shot wasn’t as deafening as expected — a silencer? — but the bullet hit the Echo’s shoulder and she screamed.
The scream made his skin crawl. Gathering his limbs, he leaned over her, drew her longgun and cocked it; clicked on the silencer. “The keys, and your guns,” he snarled at their gaping faces — or as much as he could see of them through shadows and flaming colors. The Echo’s blood spilled on the floor, and red misted his vision.
He clenched his hands on the gun, hard enough to dent the metal, fighting the urge to hurt her more, to spill more blood.
Enough, Rex.
Though why he thought the parasite could be put back into a box now...
The two Gultur scowled but put down their longguns, then one of them unhooked the keys from her belt and threw them over. If she’d hoped for a moment of inattention, she was sorely mistaken; he grabbed the keys one-handed, Rex calculating the trajectory in silver in his tainted eye, and kept the gun trained on them.
Rex Aftermath (Elei's Chronicles) Page 17
