The Witch; Stronghold; Underworld

by Ky Tyrand

  Ki’ara let out a breath after hearing a crunch of metal that marked the bot’s demise. She turned to face the last two spiders, still clinging to the overhang above the skylights. They hadn’t moved, but were frantically tapping their feet; ready to pounce, yet cautious.

  Fighting the overwhelming fatigue that was trying to catch hold, Ki’ara raised her blade of Blue Energy.

  Her eyebrows tightened. She wasn’t about to leave this business unfinished. Ignoring the strong gusts that swirled around her, Ki’ara charged.

  Two steps up the slippery slope, she stopped in her tracks when a face appeared in the glassless skylight window. It was one that the girl knew she might see, yet hadn’t been at all prepared for.

  A breath caught in Ki’ara’s throat as the man climbed out onto the sloping tiles and stood, his long cloak whipping in the wind like a flag in a hurricane. High up on the rooftop, he towered above the Princess, and made the spiders on either side of him look small.

  Tho’ran.

  20

  The girl couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed. It was either dark, or she was blind. Je’nna couldn’t tell which.

  Her eyes hurt.

  Her back hurt.

  Everything hurt.

  It felt like her entire body was being pricked with a thousand needles at once.

  Je’nna tried to activate the Night Vision lens in her helmet, but nothing was happening. She couldn’t sense it at all. Not the visor. Not the helmet. Not even her armor.

  Running a hand up her arm, she could feel that the fiber panels were still covering her, but not properly. Everything was half open, and not responding to her thoughts in the slightest. She could feel through her Mu’turi that every part of the harness was fried.

  This had never happened before.

  Je’nna didn’t know what it meant, or where she was.

  She was tired, and just wanted to sleep. Nevertheless, the girl forced herself to sit up.

  Pain squeezed a sound from Je’nna’s throat as she got up.

  She had a light somewhere, if she could just pull the armor aside… There. A pocket opened on her Mu’turi bodysuit, and she removed a small cylindrical rod, not much bigger than her finger. The end lit up with the click of a button.

  Bluish-white light shone against the walls, which were wooden and seemed unfinished. She was in some kind of corridor; narrow and blanketed in a thick layer of dust.

  She felt constricted, like she could barely move. Her dysfunctional armor was tight and fighting her. Cuffs encircling her wrists and elbows, ankles and knees, even around her waist and shoulders, were still closed. The panels that formed the protective shell were stuck in a transitional phase, not really open or shut. Just… messed up.

  To make matters worse, her muscles were fatigued to the point that they didn’t want to work. It felt like she had carried a bucket of rocks from one end of Avalon to the other.

  A loud groan beside her made Je’nna jump.

  She fought the armor in an attempt to turn her head and direct the light. A heap of something on the floor to her side was moving and making noise.

  Oh look, the bucket of rocks.

  She tried to remember his name. Fetch? Retch?

  Whoever he is, he’s the reason I’m in this mess!

  The girl was confident that she and Ki’ara would have done just fine had they not been lugging the boy around.

  Ki’ara!

  Je’nna’s wits came back when she realized the Princess was gone. And, knowing Ki’ara, she was probably in a great deal of danger.

  Ignoring the pain and fatigue, Je’nna set the light on the dusty floor and frantically tried to fight the harness off her body.

  Having little success, she nudged the groaning heap. “Hey!”

  “Uhhhh,” the boy stirred.

  “Hey!” Je’nna shook him again. Her voice was quiet, but sharp. “I need your help!”

  “Wuh?” Petch lifted his head, trying to make sense of his surroundings. “Where am I?”

  “Dunno. But Ki’ara needs my help,” said Je’nna. “And I need yours.”

  “Okay,” the boy sat up. “Ahhh, my head.”

  “What’s wrong with your head?”

  “It hurts,” the heels of his hands went to his temples for a moment, before he looked up. “Where are my legs?”

  Oh great. Je’nna imagined she’d have to carry him again. “We’ll find them, but first help me get this crap off.”

  As the girl tugged at her sleeves, Petch tried to make sense of what she was doing. “You want me to help you take your clothes off?”

  Je’nna rolled her eyes. “Just my armor, you pervert!”

  With his cheeks burning, Petch asked what she wanted him to do.

  The girl turned her back to him. “The disks on my back… turn them to the left, and then pull.”

  Petch cautiously reached for the round puck between her shoulder blades. He could see that it was damaged – punctured like it had been stabbed by a sharp spear.

  “Quickly!” barked Je’nna, making the boy jump.

  He grabbed hold of the round device, and turned. “Nothing’s happening,” he told her.

  “The bottom one, too,” she instructed.

  Petch took a breath and turned the disk in the small of her back.

  There was a distinct clicking noise as all of the cuffs and bands that connected the harness to her body released at once. They didn’t retract, but at least they opened.

  Je’nna exhaled as the pressure released. She tore the damaged framework and plates from her upper body, and then got to her feet to kick off the rest. Much better.

  Her foot hit something solid.

  She snatched up the light and shone it down on the object. One of the boy’s prosthetics. “Here,” she said, sliding it over to him.

  “Thanks.” Petch strapped it on while Je’nna retrieved the other. “I’ll try not to slow you down.”

  “Good,” said Je’nna. “Don’t.” After finding and examining her rifle, she slung it onto her back while anxiously glancing down the dark corridor. Her head was still fuzzy, her thoughts unclear. But Je’nna knew that she needed to get moving – to find the Princess before Her Royal Highness did something completely stupid.

  Je’nna blew out a breath and held her light on the boy in hopes he’d move faster. When Je’nna saw he was trying to get up, the girl didn’t wait. Biting the light in her teeth, she grabbed his shoulder and arm, and hauled him to his feet.

  Petch let out a noise.

  “What is it?” asked the girl, shining the light on him. “You’re bleeding,” she observed, before he had a chance to answer.

  “I’m okay,” he said. “My head hurts, more than anything.”

  Je’nna’s cheeks tightened as she pulled his blood sodden sleeve back, exposing a nasty gash on the outside of his arm. Though the bleeding had mostly stopped, the wound looked nasty. Je’nna growled as she opened a Mu’turi pocket on her side and withdrew a small tube. She placed the light back in her mouth before squeezing green slime from the container onto her finger.

  “What’s that?” asked Petch, as the girl’s hand came dangerously close to his cut.

  She pulled the light from her teeth. “Green slime,” she informed him. “Thought it smart to carry more medical supplies if I was to babysit the Princess.” Before biting back down on the light, she added, “And her friends.”

  The boy’s face twisted as the girl smeared the gel onto his wound. “Ow!”

  “Shuh-up,” Je’nna said through the light in her teeth, “An’ hoe sill.”

  The boy winced as she applied the salve, and then again when she taped it over with a sticky bandage. “You’re not as nice as Ki’ara, you know.”

  Je’nna sneered and wiped the remaining gel from her finger onto Petch’s sleeve. “Nobody’s as nice as Ki’ara,” she told him. “Get used to it.”

  21

  “Hello, Ki’ara.”

  His voice was clear.
Commanding. Powerful enough to be heard over the howling wind.

  The Princess had no idea what she was feeling at that very moment.

  Her uncle looked just like he had when he’d helped raise her. Though, perhaps a little more tired and worn down. But he appeared to be the same person.

  Not evil.

  Somewhere between wanting to hug him and slap him, Ki’ara had to remind herself of what he’d done.

  Her eyebrows narrowed.

  She wanted to kill him.

  Ki’ara opened her helmet to look him in the eye. The wind spun her long striped hair every which way, getting in her face and making it difficult to see. Nevertheless, she kept her helmet off. She wanted him to see her. To see the niece that he wanted to kill so badly. “Why?” was all she could find to say.

  Tho’ran frowned. He actually looked sad. “There is a lot you don’t understand, Ki’ara.”

  The Princess nodded. “Clearly not,” she said, practically shouting to be heard above the roaring wind. “But I understand that you’re a traitor. That you had your own brother killed, and that you sent assassins and soldiers after me. And for what? Power? To save your own life? I know about the stupid Amnesty.”

  Her uncle looked down. “I didn’t do it to save my life, Ki’ara.” She’d never seen his broad shoulders sag like that before. “I did it to save the lives of every person in Avalon.”

  “What?!?” Ki’ara tried to reason out what game he was playing. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s true,” said Tho’ran, as the girl digested his words. “How do you think I was able to get so many people to help me? Believe me, they would not have turned against your father on a whim.”

  That didn’t make any sense. “Why would the New Gods want my father so badly?”

  “Not him,” Tho’ran shook his head, and corrected, “You.”

  “Me?” Ki’ara’s face twisted. “Why would they want me?”

  Tho’ran’s shoulders came up, as if he’d just been reminded of his purpose. “They know what you are,” he told her.

  After reaching behind his back, a short rod appeared in her uncle’s hand.

  “And what am I?” asked Ki’ara, her Niksuru moving up to let him know that she meant to stand her ground.

  With a flick of the wrist, both ends of Tho’ran’s device extended, tripling its length. “Dangerous.”

  Ki’ara recognized the weapon when the tips lit up with Blue Energy. It was her father’s staff – the same one he’d fought Syjak and the Keeper’s demons with the night he was murdered.

  Not good.

  Tho’ran was a master with a staff.

  He was a master with every weapon.

  Using her Niksuru as a sword was not going to work. Ki’ara had never beaten him in a sparring match. The best she’d ever done was score the odd point. The thought of him using her father’s Blue Energy staff against her was terrifying.

  But at least she had armor – though she was certain it wouldn’t stop Blue Energy. And she’d gotten better at fighting since their last bout…

  Ki’ara wondered if her uncle had, too.

  “Do you remember when we use to spar, Ki’ara?” the man asked, as he let go of the window sill and moved toward her.

  “Of course I do.” Their last session was only a few days ago. The day that everything changed.

  Tho’ran smiled and popped the clasp around his flapping cloak. It immediately took flight, disappearing over the edge of the rooftop. “Then you know that you can’t win.”

  I know.

  Ki’ara scowled. She couldn’t allow her uncle’s confident cockiness to work on her any longer.

  She wasn’t the child that she used to be.

  Though it was only a short while ago, Ki’ara had learned a lot since their last match. The most important being that every person in Avalon had something to teach, if you just knew how to identify it. Understanding that alone opened up a wealth of knowledge – the likes of which a person like Tho’ran probably wouldn’t appreciate.

  From Petch Ki’ara had learned to be brave, no matter what cards you’re dealt.

  With the blade of Blue Energy burning in her hands, Ki’ara moved up the sloping roof to face her uncle.

  Tho’ran smirked, taking the first swing – a downward chop with one hand, meant to take advantage of his reach.

  Rather than blocking, Ki’ara rolled to the side and separated her Niksuru, throwing one of her weapons in a single, fluid motion. The other went to her wrist, where it felt most comfortable and gave her the freedom to still use her hand.

  She had hoped to hit Tho’ran square in the chest. But his staff moved like lightning, knocking her Niksuru away as the other end nearly took off her head.

  The Blue Energy at the tips was nothing but a blur as it swung around at her. Ki’ara’s remaining Niksuru came up to block Tho’ran’s attack. She sped up the particles of her plasma blade in hopes of severing the end of his staff. But the strange metal shaft was built to contain Blue Energy, and her block did nothing more than send her flying back, skidding across the roof tiles. Were it not for her armor, that blow alone would have ended the battle.

  At more than twice her size and weight, Tho’ran was far stronger than Ki’ara. If she let him bat her around like this, he would win. But from Je’nna, the Princess had learned that you don’t need to be big to be powerful.

  Tho’ran leapt at her.

  Ki’ara rolled forward, dodging his attack, bringing her close enough to strike.

  She nicked Tho’ran’s arm before he could pull away with a yelp.

  It wasn’t serious enough to slow him down, but it certainly got his attention.

  “Very good,” whistled Tho’ran. “You’ve been practicing.”

  “Thanks to you,” said Ki’ara, “I’ve had to learn how to stay alive.”

  “It’s not what I wanted, Ki’ara,” said Tho’ran, shaking his head. He took a step back to create space.

  Ki’ara could see that his boots were adjusting, gripping him to the smooth, sloping surface. She never realized that her uncle used a Mu’turi. The last time she’d spoken with him, Ki’ara barely knew what a Mu’turi was.

  From her fight with Sirona, the girl had learned that deception was sometimes the best way to beat a better opponent. “No,” she said, pulling the connection to her second Niksuru, which lay on the roof above her uncle. It slid right under Tho’ran’s foot. “You wanted me dead.”

  The instant he put his weight back, the man’s foot slipped out from under him, nearly causing him to do the splits as he sprawled down the roof.

  Ki’ara didn’t hesitate, pouncing on him like a vicious animal. She stabbed his shoulder twice, screaming her rage as she tried to plunge her blade into him. But he threw her away before she could land another hit.

  A growl escaped Tho’ran’s throat as he pulled himself up. “That’s not what I meant, Ki’ara.” The tone of his voice was conversational, and didn’t suggest that she had just tried to kill him. “What was I supposed to do?”

  The Princess drew her other Niksuru back before it neared the roof’s edge. She noticed Tho’ran roll his shoulder, trying to shrug out the pain.

  She’d hurt him.

  “You were supposed to fight them, not your family,” said Ki’ara. She wanted to keep him talking. She wanted to shut him up.

  From Landry, she’d learned to spot weakness, and exploit it. Tho’ran was injured on that side. His defenses would be slowed.

  She threw her Niksuru at his good side. The wind tried to drag it off course, Ki’ara she forced it to stay on target.

  “It’s not that simple.” Her uncle reacted, blocking the device with ease.

  It was only intended to be a distraction.

  Ki’ara attacked his injured side with the blade on her wrist.

  She nearly got him, but was not quite fast enough.

  Even wounded, Tho’ran’s movements were so fluid that it didn’t matter if he slowed. He was
that proficient. The end of his weapon clipped her chest, barely missing with the plasma tip. But the staff clotheslined Ki’ara in a way that sent her feet flying high overhead. She landed hard on her back, up near her shoulders, and tumbled down the rooftop.

  If it weren’t for the armor, she would have been knocked senseless. Thankfully, the girl still had her wits about her and used her G.R. and Niksuru to prevent herself from spilling over the edge.

  “This could be so easy, Ki’ara,” said Tho’ran as he eased closer. “Painless.”

  The girl grimaced, and tried to pull herself up. How can I beat him? She found herself trembling, fighting the temptation to flee.

  From Grue’gan, she’d learned not to give up.

  Keep fighting, or escape and fight again.

  The Princess got to her feet.

  “Gods, Ki’ara. Is it worth it?” Tho’ran’s Blue Energy weapon was ready to strike. “Thousands will die if you live.”

  Ki’ara couldn’t wrap her head around her uncle’s words. “How can my life save all the people of Avalon?”

  “Can’t you see? The New Gods are willing to do anything to see you dead. They’ll erase this land from existence if they have to. There will be a second Collapse, before we’ve even recovered from the first.”

  It didn’t make sense that they wanted her so badly. “Why?”

  Tho’ran shrugged. “You are a threat to them.”

  Ki’ara struggled to understand how they could see her as a threat. She was just a child. What could she possibly mean to the New Gods?

  The Princess didn’t want to die. But from Darius, she’d learned sacrifice. He had been willing to face death in order to save the people he cared about, and had done just that. “How can I trust that you’re telling the truth?”

  Tho’ran grinned in a way that Ki’ara did not like. He knew that she was considering it. With his thumb, he pointed over his shoulder at the spiders still clinging to the overhang behind him. They hadn’t attacked yet, for whatever reason. But they were still there, with their glowing eyes locked onto Ki’ara, patiently watching. After witnessing their spider-buddies slide off the roof, perhaps they were waiting to see how things played out. “Have you ever heard of the New Gods sending their own tech to see something through?” asked the man. “They want you dead, Ki’ara. Not since the Angel of Avalon caused the Collapse have they been so determined.”