by Vi Voxley
Brocke tilted his head, looking the warrior straight in the eyes.
“I would kill a miserable old man,” he said, his voice dropping low and dangerous. “My uncle wouldn’t make me ask. Horech would have told me the second I entered and not wasted my time.”
The silence was heavy and threatening between them as Horech glared until he finally nodded approvingly.
“Very well,” he said then. “Take your pretty sword away. The last I heard, Condor was seen near the Geramoss, preaching to his followers. You can start there, but I assure you he’ll be gone.”
Brocke sheathed his sword and turned to leave.
The last he heard of his uncle was the warrior calling after him, “Tell your father I’m dead. It’s bound to happen soon anyway; at least he’ll get the mourning out of the way.”
* * *
Traveling to the great hall of Geramoss took a few days since it was under the ocean with no other way to reach it than to walk. Brocke didn’t stop for anything but food and a few hours of sleep. All the while, he could only think of Cora. He wished he knew how she was doing and whether she was being protected.
Condor was a fanatic, and like all madmen, the prospect of someone ruining his plans was the worst thing he could imagine. As Cora had led Brocke to his trail, she was undoubtedly somewhere in the priest’s list of enemies. The guardian could only hope that Condor was too preoccupied to deal with the little Terran first. The fact she was Union probably helped, because Condor didn’t need the Union’s attention in addition to Brocke’s.
Long, dark days passed, but Brocke felt himself drawing closer. The men he caught and talked to were tougher to break and had more to say. Step by step, he was dismantling Condor’s defenses, but there was something else.
He was making preparations, and Brocke had a bad feeling about it. Every follower he caught first denied knowing anything even before he asked. They actually looked surprised when he asked them about Condor’s whereabouts, like that was a secondary concern. Seeing the way his informants reacted, realizing they’d betrayed information he hadn’t even known to look for told Brocke all he needed to know.
And just when Brocke was getting so close that for a moment he thought he glimpsed Condor in the crowd, the unthinkable happened.
The boy was struggling in his grip, no more than a child. Olyra-born, that much was obvious. His dark eyes had no trace of the warrior concoctions.
“What did you just say?” Brocke repeated, his voice very dark.
He lifted the boy up even further, pressing down on his throat just a little.
“Big sacrifice,” the boy stuttered. “Condor wants to show what he’s capable of.”
“The other thing,” Brocke snarled. “About the girl.”
“Yes, yes,” the boy wheezed. “Terran girl. Half-breed child of a half-breed. Condor says she will be the most important exhibit.”
Cora.
The boy had named Cora as the last victim Condor desired, and the reason for it… was not what Brocke had been worried about.
Somewhere out there was a woman carrying his child. Beautiful, bright Cora with her fierce temper. Brocke let the boy go, watching him run away. His heart was singing with joy, but all of his happiness was wrapped in a dark shadow.
Condor hated him, which Brocke knew for a fact. The guardian had never given him a weakness to exploit, but now he had one.
He turned and ran for the nearest gate, not stopping for a second. Brocke needed to reach Cora before she found out in a bad way that she’d jumped on top of Condor’s wanted list.
Chapter Eleven
Cora
Leaving everything behind turned out to be very easy once Cora heard there was a lunatic after her.
Her mind was in complete disarray of emotions, ranging from fearing for her life – and for the child’s even more – to complete and utter joy. Brocke had come back to her like he’d promised. Cora didn’t know whether it meant something more than what it looked like, but she couldn’t silence the voice in her mind cheering wildly.
Grabbing only the essentials, Cora rushed out of her quarters with Brocke. They drew looks, but then again, Brocke always did. She had no doubt that him being there would soon be public knowledge, but it wasn’t important. Condor would assume the guardian would come for her anyway. If not for her alone, then for their child.
Just like that, the happy bubble that had been growing inside Cora burst. She never slowed down, but as soon as it appeared, she couldn’t shake the idea. Cora was certain Brocke liked her, that much was obvious from the start, but then it had been nothing but a fling.
Now, when her feelings were a bit more complicated, Cora no longer wanted mere attraction.
“How do you know?” she heard herself asking as they ran through the hallways of her building as fast as they could without being too suspicious.
The warlord gave her a quizzical look.
“You mean about your pregnancy?” Brocke asked, checking around the corner before motioning for Cora to follow.
“Yeah,” she said, and with every word, Cora grew more confused. “I mean, I only found out a few days ago. How can Condor already know? The scans he used can’t be that good.”
“Who did you tell?” Brocke asked, suddenly very serious.
He’d stopped. They were standing in a less used corridor at the back of her building, yet the silence around them was odd somehow. “Less used” was supposed to mean there’d be fewer people than at the front entrance because the back of the complex was reserved for menial tasks. No quarters or apartments. It shouldn’t have been utterly deserted.
“More importantly, Cora, who told you?” Brocke pressed on.
“Ashby…” she murmured, taken aback. “But she’s… she’d…”
“The priestess,” Brocke repeated. “We need to get out of here.”
Cora didn’t move from the spot.
“Ashby wouldn’t do that,” she protested. “She’s been with me since the start of the case; she hates Condor as much as I do.”
Brocke had to physically pull her along. Cora let him, knowing how it sounded, but she didn’t want to believe it. Making friends hadn’t been easy for her on Gaiya. Not because she was anti-social, or unpleasant, or even a Terran, but since the Militant’s officers were married to their work. The only people she met were the ones Cora worked with. And of those, she’d always liked Ashby the most.
Had she been that blind? Ugly rage raised its head inside her. Cora wanted proof, but if her friend truly had betrayed her, she was going to make sure Ashby paid for it.
“She knows where you live, right?” Brocke was asking.
“Yes,” Cora admitted. “Of course she knows. Ashby doesn’t live far herself.”
“No wonder it was so easy for Condor to use the system,” the guardian was saying, a dark frustration in his voice. “The embassy, the missing name on the roof. The Ambassador would have trusted your partner without question.”
Cora didn’t answer. She felt the weight of guilt like it was physically draped over her shoulders. Brocke seemed to notice and turned back to her. Cora knew they didn’t have time to waste, but when Brocke’s eyes met hers, she forgot all about the danger.
“I’m not blaming you,” the guardian said, emphasizing every word. “You need to understand that. The things in front of us are always, always the hardest to see. She did her job well and so did you.”
“You can’t say that,” Cora argued defiantly, disappointed with herself. “If it is Ashby, she played me.”
“Perhaps,” Brocke allowed, but before Cora could say he wasn’t a very good comforter, he went on, “but that is only possible because you were focused on the enemy. It is the same with warriors. We fight our opponents while trusting our own brothers instinctively. That doesn’t make us immune to betrayal. Great warriors have fallen horribly from a stab in the back. It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t trust anyone. I trust you, even though if Ashby is involved, it makes you a suspect as well.”
<
br /> Cora glared at him, knowing he meant well, but she was still unhinged by the fast-moving events.
“All I want is to catch Condor and his accomplices,” she stated firmly.
“I know,” Brocke said, smiling a little, his tone gentler than before. “But that is because I know you. Others do not.”
This really is the worst pep talk I’ve ever received, Cora thought, even if she didn’t actually mind.
Brocke’s words were almost irrelevant next to the immediate calming effect he had on her. Near his firm, solid presence, Cora felt safe.
“I still can’t believe it could be her,” she said quietly. “Why would she...?”
But Cora never got to finish the question. Brocke was looking over her shoulder, and she could see his eyes narrowing.
“Run,” he said, and without looking back, Cora bolted.
The blaster fire knocked the air from her lungs, both physically and figuratively. Heated air made it hard to breathe in the small corridor, which definitely wasn’t meant for firefights. That simple fact said that the people shooting at them weren’t friends, weren’t even the Union. They had been found.
Rounding a corner, Cora finally got the chance to glance behind. She had trusted Brocke instinctively, figuring that if a Corgan warrior suggested running, it was truly the best possible option. As soon as the blaster fire caught up with her, Cora knew he’d been right.
Brocke didn’t have his rifle with him – she imagined it was still strapped to that accursed speeder – so making a stand would have been a suicide even for a warrior of his caliber. He didn’t exactly make for a small target.
Cora was still caught off guard by the sight in front of her. But it was not the men in masks coming after them, undoubtedly Condor’s followers, that caught her attention.
It was Brocke, his armor smoking, practically scorched. It had been black before, but now the metal plates were partly melted and scabrous. Cora had no idea what Corgan armors were made of, but apparently a direct hit from a blaster was nothing more than a very persistent heat wave to one.
He shielded me, she realized.
The warlord would have had no problem dodging the shot, but Brocke had thrown himself in the way to protect her. Cora bit her lip, hating feeling useless. She had a gun too, but they couldn’t afford to stop to use it and get trapped. As they kept running, however, Cora pulled the weapon and tried to get a few shots in when they disappeared from sight for a second at corners.
She took one of the chasers down, but there were many more, and they were all firing. Apparently, Condor wanted them dead badly enough not to care how it happened or who pulled the trigger, although Cora did notice the chasers were trying to aim for their legs above other options.
She could already smell fresh air outside, and in the next second, Cora and Brocke stormed out of the building. Her mouth dropped open, seeing fighters in addition to warriors nearby. They had truly walked into an ambush, but Brocke never hesitated.
The warlord pulled his swords; Cora could see they were so hot the blades practically glowed. How they’d survived the blaster shot, she hadn’t the faintest idea, but apparently the Corgans made their weapons to last.
They moved together. It was unnatural for Cora, who wasn’t used to having a partner, not in that sense at least. But she was trying, and Brocke was compensating for her mistakes. The warlord went first, blades cutting through the enemies coming at him.
Cora did her best to cover his back, shooting freely at anything that tried to approach, but their pursuers from the building had emerged as well. The sheer amount of firepower they faced was getting ridiculous.
“On the bike!” Brocke roared.
Cora had never been more glad to see the thing. She backed towards the bike, making sure she didn’t give the enemies any chances. Startled, she noticed that while the attackers were trying to kill Brocke, they aimed to grab her. So Condor wanted her after all.
That confirmation wasn’t comforting in the slightest. Cora glared at Condor’s followers, wondering what made people join the cause of an obvious madman.
Being mad themselves, she supposed.
She mounted the bike after what seemed like ages of trading fire with the enemies. Finally, Cora noticed that she’d gotten the wrong idea. The fighters up in the air weren’t approaching, and the blaster fire never reached her. Apparently they really had been trying only to wound her, which meant she could act as a shield for Brocke.
The idea was beyond crazy, but considering the circumstances, Cora was willing to try anything.
Brocke approached while holding back an entire unit of masked warriors. She watched him move with practiced ease, every brutal strike somehow graceful. In an oddly poetic way, Cora liked watching him fight, liked seeing the proof of his power.
The other warriors were clearly reluctant to fight him, seeing the bodies of their fallen companions already on the ground bleeding from several wounds. Cora would have considered them the lucky ones if the damage they’d taken hadn’t been irreversible.
Afterward, she had no idea how they’d managed to get out of there. The enemies seemed to come in from all sides, but the Militant had finally awoken. Cora kept shooting from the bike as Brocke sat in front of her, keeping the enemies away and driving them back to the Militant’s guns.
She knew they were leaving an awfully complicated scene behind them, but Cora had hope someone would have the good sense to read her reports and figure the whole thing out.
They needed to go, fast.
Luckily, the speeder hadn’t been named ironically. Cora’s stomach lurched forward – a few seconds before the rest of her, it seemed. The bike roared to life, the furious engine burning as Brocke stepped on the gas. The speeder jumped to action, rushing through the streets so fast everything looked like a blur. She had no idea how Brocke was seeing anything at all.
Or how he was avoiding hitting something.
Corgans weren’t that used to speeders; they were warrior toys and not very common in cities. Especially at their full speed, although Cora strongly suspected it could have gone faster.
For her part, it made little difference. She held on to Brocke as hard as she could, but the warlord gave no indication of slowing down. Cora could see the reason.
The rest of the enemies had fallen behind, but it was hard to shake a fighter even on a speeder bike. The warships kept watch over them, flying with an almost casual ease. Cora could see them as nothing more than specks in the sky, but they never fell behind.
That was until Brocke turned the bike so fast Cora almost tumbled off, diving right into a narrow pass between gigantic towers where the fighters couldn’t follow. With difficulty, Cora turned her head and saw the fighters fly higher up to try and catch the spot where they emerged, but Brocke slowed down instead.
He left the bike and extended a hand to Cora helping her off. Her legs were shaking, but she quickly shook it off. Cora figured they had worse problems than a little unsteadiness and nausea from a breakneck escape.
“Where to now?” she asked.
“That depends,” Brocke said. “The priestess. Where does she live? You said it was nearby, and we haven’t come far.”
“We can’t go there right now,” Cora protested, not believing her ears. “It’s over, you’ve convinced me. The men in masks, she definitely told them where to find me. Why go to her?”
“Because she knows something,” Brocke said. “If she could contact Condor so fast, the priestess is bound to know more, and we need her.”
“Her place will be guarded.”
In the darkness of the alleyway Brocke smiled, and his bright blue eyes shone like stars.
“That will not be a problem,” he growled.
Everything is so easy with the Corgans, isn’t it?
“That’s very nice,” Cora told the warlord, “but how do you know we won’t be greeted by more of the same? I can’t imagine we can question her while Condor’s men are shooting at us.”
<
br /> “I’m not just going to storm in there, if that’s what you mean,” Brocke said. “But we need to find her.”
There was something slightly off about his effortless confidence and overall presence. Cora gave the warlord a hard look. She hadn’t known Brocke for a long time, but there were signs that gave him away even so. Her job had provided her with the ability to tell when someone was hiding the truth from her, and right then, Cora knew without a doubt Brocke wasn’t telling her everything.
“What is it?” she asked seriously. “And don’t lie to me. I can’t make the right choices if you’re keeping something from me. I trust you. I will go with you if you ask me, but I need to understand why we can’t just leave.”
She could see Brocke’s face drop. In different circumstances, Cora would have been glad beyond anything to see that change, a hint of the influence she had over him. Cutting so easily through the guardedness of a Corgan warrior was truly something, but Cora couldn’t rejoice.
Brocke didn’t turn his eyes from her.
“There is no place for us,” he said then. “It is worse than I imagined. You are not safe in any place I can think of taking you to. The only solution is to move forward and get Condor before he reaches you. I saw what happened to his victims. The time spent in Gomor has only made his bloodlust worse.”
He paused for a second while Cora waited, holding her breath, feeling as though the darkness was closing in on them.
“If the priestess has answers, that’s where we’ll go. I wonder now if I shouldn’t have let Condor go because it has led us to this. I heard rumors of him cutting women open before they could bring another half-breed into this world. I will not let this happen to you, do you hear me, Cora?”
Brocke’s deep, powerful voice sent a shiver down her spine, but it didn’t scare her. The warlord reached out and pulled her to his arms, holding her there. Cora imagined she could hear his hearts beating as fast as hers.
“I will protect you, no matter what,” Brocke said, more quietly this time. “You and our child don’t have to live in a world with Condor. I will wipe every last trace of his vile mission off the face of this realm. He will curse the day he chose to run from me.”
