by E. C. Jarvis
Larissa watched on wordlessly, imagining Holt systematically cutting his way through man after man, spilling blood and guts all over the cave corridors. She curled her fingers around the stone, tucking it into her palm. Her heart thumped in her chest and her body tingled with adrenaline. Time, all she needed was a little more time.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Holt returned to the stairwell, having extracted as much useful information as possible from Orother’s assistant. Through the spyglass he found the switches on the wall and pressed the relevant one, as sure as he could be that the cowardly man he’d just interrogated had given him honest information in exchange for mercy.
The machinery controlling the room lurched into life and the walls spun around slowly. Holt stood ready, his rifle following the line of the wall, prepared to fire upon whichever enemy appeared in his path. The room opened out into another hallway, and the ticking timer echoed loudly around him. Holt froze as he saw Larissa, kneeling on the floor ahead, her head full of curls cascading down to the floor as her shoulders shook. She appeared to be distressed, weeping perhaps.
Holt stepped into the hall just as the room turned back blocking the exit.
“Larissa?” he asked softly.
“Please! Help me!” she screamed at him. Holt lurched, acting on instinct to protect her, but something stopped him. She was screaming in hysterics. Though he didn’t know her well, she had never done that, not even when she had suffered horrific abuse aboard the pirate ship. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up and as she screamed at him again, her face contorted unnaturally and her expression turned angry.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Help me. Why won’t you help me?”
“Say my name,” he said, levelling his weapon at her. Her brow wrinkled and her mouth curled into a twisted smile as the illusory Larissa dissipated from view altogether.
“Show your face, you fucking coward,” Holt yelled into the shadowy hallway. He received no reply. Gritting his teeth he pressed on, giving no more than a passing glance to the gruesome sight of two dissected bodies in the lab room. The passageway turned a corner and Holt saw a robed figure ahead. He fired his rifle without hesitation and the bullet sailed straight through the man, splintering rock as it lodged into the cave wall behind.
“You wished to see my face?” the man spoke, spreading his palms out. “Come closer, see the truth.”
Holt felt a pressure forming across his throat. The tightness intensified as he tried to fight it, keeping his rifle pointed at the figure ahead, though he had no idea how to kill an illusion. Two guards emerged ahead; they raised their weapons at Holt but did not fire.
The rifle fell from Holt’s hands and he clutched at his neck, trying to grasp the force that choked him, finding nothing tangible to grip. He watched the Cleric’s eyes glisten with sickening pleasure—eyes that, for the briefest moment, focused somewhere behind Holt’s head. With a final attempt at salvation, Holt removed a throwing knife from his belt and turned around, flinging the knife down the corridor behind him. The Cleric screamed in pain as Holt’s knife hit him in the eye.
The two guards opened fire as the illusion of the Cleric dissipated and Holt recovered, ducking behind an alcove in the rock. Down the corridor, the real Cleric fled, clutching at his wound as he ran toward the room which led to the stairwell.
More shots from the guards sailed past, landing in the rock, splintering shards down the hall as the bullets ricocheted off the walls. Holt tucked his body as flat as possible, waiting for the men to run out of ammo and pause to reload. When they did, he was ready.
. . .
The sound of relentless gunfire echoed throughout the cave; by the time the noise reached the room Larissa was in, it sounded like an entire army of people battling. While Larissa knew that wasn’t the case, Orother did not.
“You!” Orother turned to her, his face bright red and burning with rage.
“You fucking bitch, I will make you suffer for this.”
She saw the strike coming as Orother raised his arm, his hand balled into a tight fist swinging toward her face. Her legs slipped as she ducked away from the strike and Orother stumbled sideways as his arm missed his target. Larissa sunk to her side on the floor and kicked her legs out catching Orother’s ankles.
The shock brought him down, his body crashing heavily on top of her legs and she shrieked as she felt something in her knee pop out of place. The next moment he rolled on top of her, his entire weight crushing her frame, his hands wrapped around her neck, gripping, squeezing with all his might. She tried to stop him, but all she could feel was the pressure inside her skull. The Anthonium came free from her fingers and fell to the floor, rolling away.
“Do you enjoy suffering, you stupid girl?” Orother spat through gritted teeth. “You will learn. I will train you.”
Larissa’s vision blurred around the edges yet again as she struggled in vain to fight for breath. Her lungs burned, her neck stung as he branded her with his fingertips, instantly bruising her skin. She clawed uselessly at his face, fighting to make him stop.
A blur streaked across the corner of her vision, then a fist connected with Orother’s face and his grip released as he toppled to the side. The Professor came into view above her, his pale face alive with a flush of red blood, his teeth bared, but his neck still bound by the collar. He placed his body over hers as a barrier.
Across the room the air was filled with shouts and gunfire. Larissa flinched as she expected to feel shots landing in her body. She chanced a brief look towards the sounds and found that the guards focused their attention on the hallway.
“Holt,” she gasped just as Orother recovered. His eyes widened with an odd expression at Holt’s name, then he scooped up the Anthonium and leapt to the wall where the chain that bound the Professor was hooked. Orother grabbed the chain and yanked hard, swiftly pulling the Professor backward. The Professor crashed to the ground as Orother jumped forward and grabbed Larissa, dragging her to her feet and out of the Professor’s reach, his arm looped around her neck.
“Holt!” Orother bellowed. It sounded like an order, and in confusion the guards ceased firing, though they still raised their weapons and aimed them at the corridor.
“Come in here, Captain Holt,” Orother called, “and lower your weapons or I’ll snap her fucking neck.”
Holt appeared around the corner; he was bleeding from cuts and gashes across his face, his arm dripped blood from a gunshot wound, and his eyes burned intensely. Holt instantly raised his arm, pointing his rifle at Larissa.
“Nice and steady now, Captain,” Orother said softly and the room fell quiet, the sound of heavy breaths from all occupants almost echoing inside the cave.
“That was quite an entrance. I’m impressed. Tell me, have you killed the Cleric?”
“Coward,” Holt barked, though it wasn’t clear if he was talking about the Cleric or just insulting Orother.
Larissa watched as Holt’s finger brushed the trigger and she now felt just as afraid of Holt as she was of Orother. Her eyes darted between the Professor, who attempted to stand upright, the guards, who still aimed weapons at Holt and looking to Orother to give an order, and Holt, who seemed to be seriously contemplating putting a bullet through her chest just to kill the Doctor.
She wondered if he were thinking of her incredible capacity for healing, if he were willing to take such a risk, or if he was simply so hell bent on killing Orother that he didn’t care if she died in the process. Her mind played through everything that Holt had risked so far to get to this point, and she held her breath, truly not knowing what would happen next.
“I see now that I had the wrong brother. You would have made a much more useful subject.” Orother moved Larissa across his chest as he spoke, ensuring her body was as much of a shield as possible. She listened closely to Orother—what did he mean, ‘wrong brother’? Her heart tugged at the fact that she had failed to get to the bottom of why Holt was her
e. She didn’t want to learn it this way.
“You will pay for what you did, and when I’m done with you, I will kill the rest of your band of schemers,” Holt said.
“You think you’ve uncovered some plot? You think you have all the puzzle pieces figured out? I’m almost tempted to let you leave here alive just to watch them destroy you.”
“One of us will die here,” Holt stated, his voice flat, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.
“More than one, I suspect.” Orother tightened his grip around Larissa’s neck with one arm, holding out the Anthonium in his other hand.
“Did you know she had this?”
“I did.”
“And you didn’t simply take it from her?” Orother seemed to be looking between the Professor and Holt, wordlessly calculating.
“She really is an intriguing creature, isn’t she?” Orother continued. Larissa watched as Holt’s grip on the trigger wavered.
A flash of black and white fur came from the shadows, leaping through the air. Imago. The cat landed directly on Orother’s hand, claws extended, mouth open.
Orother yelled as Imago’s claws pierced straight through the skin of the Doctor’s hand, taking the Anthonium and a large chunk of flesh in one bite with his sharp teeth. The guards flinched and faltered, turning their weapons upon the cat as he scampered beneath the heavy machinery, firing a barrage of bullets through the room.
Holt calmly turned his rifle and dispatched the guards as Larissa used the distraction to turn herself around in Orother’s grasp. Doctor Orother flung his arm out, trying to catch her again. She rammed her knee up, smashing into his groin, and he pitched forward. Larissa stumbled backward and fell on her backside. Holt fired his rifle and the bullet lodged in Orother’s chest. The Professor appeared behind the Doctor and grabbed hold of Orother’s head. In one swift move he snapped the man’s neck.
The body of Doctor Orother tumbled down into a heap on the floor. The Professor collapsed as well; his shoulders slumped forward as he sat, silently shaking his head.
Minutes passed by in silence. Larissa stared down at the floor, scanning the dips and ridges in the stone, unable to look at either Holt or the Professor and certainly not quite ready to focus on Orother.
They had just achieved the impossible. She should be jumping for joy, and instead she felt lost and a little bit sick. The Professor was silent as well, though he stared directly at Larissa, his eyes locked onto her and his expression unreadable.
“We need to leave,” Holt stated flatly from beside the exit. Somewhat reluctantly, Larissa assigned herself the task of searching Orother’s body for the key to the collar on the Professor’s neck.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Holt emerged from the stairwell into reality. The mansion was gone, one of the orb devices that had maintained the illusion appeared to have been destroyed, and the other was missing entirely. Larissa came up beside him, the Professor limping along last with an equally poor-looking cat at his side.
“Did you destroy those?” Larissa asked Holt, pointing to the orbs.
“No. The Cleric escaped.”
“Oh.” Larissa opened her mouth to say something else, but Holt marched on towards the ship, rapidly bandaging his cuts and bruises with a far more grim expression than usual.
Once they all reassembled aboard the pirate ship, Larissa and the Professor sat in silence on deck for what seemed an eternity, neither comfortable nor awkward, simply silent.
Eventually, Larissa broke the peace, lifting the quiet haze.
“I’m afraid I lost your ship to pirates.” She figured it was fairly safe ground on which to begin. A slight grin threatened the corners of the Professor’s mouth.
“That’s always a risk with so many blasted philistines about. Perhaps I can buy it back from them.”
“Unfortunately not. Holt crashed it into a mountain.”
“Barbarian. I shall make a note to send him the bill.” This time Larissa smiled and something unspoken felt settled between them.
“I am so very sorry, Larissa.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it is not fine. I could spend the rest of my lifetime apologizing to you and it wouldn’t be enough. You saved my life, and after I’d treated you dreadfully. There is nothing I can do to fix the pain I’ve brought upon you.”
“You could start by going back to Sallarium, showing everyone you’re still alive, and clearing my name.”
The Professor’s gaze fell to the deck. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
“Oh?”
“You see, I didn’t have permission to build my machine. In fact, the government specifically forbade me from building it. They were watching me so closely in everything I did. The only place they didn’t watch me was at the Hub, so naturally that was the only place I could build it. If I go back now, I expect they’ll simply lock me up and throw away the key. They’ll most likely peg you as an accomplice and my word on it won’t make a blind bit of difference.”
“Oh.”
“So, once again I must apologize.”
“Professor...”
“Please, call me Max.”
“Max.” She tested the name out loud; somehow it didn’t suit him. His formal moniker felt more natural.
“I need to ask something...”
“Ask away. I shan’t withhold anything from you now.”
“Cap’n ‘Rissa.” Grubbs stumbled around the corner, his stocky face alight with a proud grin. He was still covered in soot though he had made some attempt to clean his face.
“Grubbs, you came back!”
“Of course, Cap’n, you gave us orders.” The Professor raised an eyebrow as he watched the exchange.
“You say you carried out my orders?” Larissa asked.
“Aye, happy to report she’s ready, Cap'n.”
“What?”
“The ship. You said we was to get her ready and I’m reporting that we done real good.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Larissa said, frowning.
“We fixed a few broken bits, topped up the coal, filled the hydrogen tanks and stashed the hull with food and grog.”
“What? How the hell did you manage all that? Did you have a stash of gold in the ship somewhere?”
“Uhhh, no. We’re pirates, Cap’n. We took it.”
“Took it?”
“Yup. These rich folks got tons of great stuff stashed around, filled the hold right up.” As he finished speaking, the other crew members rounded the corner, their arms filled with trinkets and jewellery, followed by Friar Narry, who shook his head.
“I must say I do not approve of this,” Narry said.
“We heard you the first ten times, Friar,” Goodson said.
“Friar Narry, did you not go back to the Citadel?” Larissa looked at him crookedly.
“It was my intention, but when the mansion illusion ended I realized my absence will have been noticed and I would not be able to deny my involvement. I have broken the rules. I cannot go back now. I will stay with you, if you’ll have me.”
“Of course! The more the merrier.”
“Although, I must point out that I disapprove of thievery.”
“Yes, well, I’m not sure I approve of it either. I’ll have to be more explicit with my instructions to the men.” She looked around the deck of the ship, finally noticing that someone was missing.
“Dear Gods! Where’s Cid?”
Cid climbed aboard just as she finished her question, carrying a small casket decorated with gold filigree. He stopped in front of Larissa and Max, his eyes flicking between the pair of them; he seemed unsure which one was now his boss.
“I am pleased to see you Cid,” Max said.
“Thank the Gods you’re alive, Professor.”
Larissa pointed to the casket, both her eyebrows raised in a silent question. Cid shrugged and sniffed indignantly.
“Found this stashed under Orother’s bed down in that cave. It’s got
all kinds of interesting stuff inside. I thought it might be useful. I only just managed to get out of there. I assume he’s dead?”
“Yes,” Larissa said.
“Then it’s not like he needs it now.”
“We should leave.” Holt appeared opposite, his tone clipped and face sullen.
“Why?” Larissa asked.
“The guards in the town have been alerted to our suspicious activities. They are coming.”
“Damn, gentlemen, let’s get this thing in the air.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” Grubbs and the three other crewmen acknowledged as they raced to the furnace, the fuel tanks, and to retract the skids. The Professor stood up and then promptly sat back down again when he realized he was completely out of place and more likely to get in the way than to be of use.
“Where are we headed?” Cid asked.
“Just up and away for now, Cid. The guards are going to give a hard chase when they find the mess we’re leaving behind, and I think we’ve all had enough of being locked up for a while.”
The furnace cracked with flame, the partially deflated balloon filled with hydrogen, the rotors whirred to life, and as a number of uniformed men spilled into the back garden, the ship slowly rose toward the sky.
Larissa and Holt stood side by side at the edge. Holt raised his reloaded rifle, briefly flicking his gaze to the deck where he’d placed a pair of fully loaded pistols. Larissa took the hint and collected the weapons, matching his stance.
Cracks of gunshot whizzed through the air from below, but Larissa didn’t flinch. She took aim, let out a breath, relaxed her elbow, and pulled the trigger. One man dropped to his knees, Holt downed another. Larissa took aim with the second pistol and fired the final shot, bringing another man down until they sailed out of range and out of danger.
Larissa turned to Holt, hoping perhaps to hear some praise or acknowledgement of all they’d achieved. Instead, he turned away, marching across the ship to disappear into the hull. She sighed, catching sight of the Professor; he looked deathly pale. She extended her hand to him and he took it without question as she led him down into the Captain’s cabin.
