“Cease!” Portan boomed. “No one is to move except on my order!”
No more sought to repeat what was clearly folly. None of those who’d advanced remained alive, but neither did Jav’s troops advance. They merely held their ground, awaiting further orders.
After allowing this to play out, Jav responded to Portan’s original question. “If you win—if you defeat me—none of my troops can remain standing. I cannot speak for the entirety of the Viscain Empire, but if I lose, you have nothing to fear from this army of the dead and all of your Heavy Land Division—those yet living—will get to live a bit longer.”
“And if I lose? What of my men?”
“I haven’t decided yet. In the end, no one survives the Viscain Empire, but if you win, you can all fight another day.”
Portan stared with compound eyes, silent and still. Despite the Loss Commander’s inhuman appearance, Jav knew that he was experiencing a very human dilemma just now, and knowing that, he also knew there was only one choice Portan could make.
Portan started forward again. He raised his splayed hand, and one of his men placed a pole axe within it. He stepped into the clearing separating the two bodies of troops and leveled the pole axe, aiming it at Jav still upon Gran Mid.
The skeletons parted to make way for the Gran, who crested the rock and eased down into the valley through the channel they opened up. Stopping just short of the last of the skeletons, Jav leapt clear, alighting just before the point of the Loss Commander’s pole axe.
“Jav Holson, First General of the Viscain Empire.”
“Portan, Loss Heavy Land Division Commander.”
They saluted each other with a nod.
Portan was first to move, shooting forward bodily. He wielded his pole axe one-handed and sent it zipping through the air alternately whooshing and whistling, with strokes broad or intricate. Once again, Jav was impressed by Portan’s speed and was forced to retreat. The reach provided by the pole axe, on top of Portan’s speed and strength, unbalanced the fight somewhat, so Jav reacted.
“Rommel!” Jav cried. Somewhere, a skeleton collapsed to the ground, and at the same moment a pole sword coalesced in Jav’s hands.
Jav raised his pole sword, parrying a series of sweeps and thrusts. Each impact was jarring, but Jav fended off the blows competently enough. He’d trained in the Secret Track Pole Sword over the years, but had never developed an affinity for it as he had so long ago with the Eighteen Heavenly Claws. It didn’t matter if this strategy succeeded. He acted solely in defense for almost five minutes, gauging Portan’s range, the kinds of strikes he was throwing, telling behavior that spoke of potential patterns in his assault. He continued on the defensive, put himself in a position that he thought would elicit a full power swing from the Loss Commander, and let it come. When it did, he matched the strike with his own and backed it with AI. Though applying AI to weapons was not at all his specialty, the effect was rather spectacular. As the edge of the pole sword struck that of the pole axe, the axe head shattered—was nearly atomized—being reduced to something like glitter. The force of the blow, cast the handle from Portan’s grip. Jav let go of his pole sword—which dissolved similarly, though this was by design, not indication of its destruction—and sprang forward.
Jav struck Portan in the face with his knee and somehow Portan defied the laws of physics, refusing to recoil from the strike, hanging in the air though raised off his feet, his arms going slack, flying at his sides as if he were already hurtling backwards until Jav finished the kick with the top of his foot, striking Portan a second time in the exact same spot, essentially less than a second apart in time. Now Portan responded to physics and shot through his men, knocking over ten, then fifty, then a hundred of them, after the effect spread like ripples in a pond.
Portan struggled to his feet, rubbed his neck with his hand, shook his head to clear the daze that plagued him. As he did this chips and fragments of chitin were unloosed from his armored neck and chinked down his broad chest and back to pepper the ground.
Jav stood where Portan had moments ago. “The True Kaiser Kick,” he said.
“Stand clear!” Portan cried as his horns lit up and flashed almost instantly.
Jav was surprised. He hadn’t thought Portan able to fire the light cannon without preparation, but rather than be dismayed, he saw an opportunity. In the split second before actual discharge, he felt his adrenaline power the Ghost Kaiser and take him out of the path of the beam. Jav reappeared at Portan’s back, kicked at the back of his knee, causing him to drop, grabbed hold of his head and spun it, sending a white bar of light into the sky before settling it upon the gate of the Loss Tower, which promptly exploded.
Portan cut the beam and fought to regain control of his own body, swinging a back fist which caught Jav square in the ribs and sent him skidding on his heels into a number of Heavy Land soldiers. None sought to engage him. They started to back off, to give him room but he was gone, delivering the True Kaiser Kick once again, and sending the Loss Commander barreling backwards.
This time, Portan turned in the air so that his head aimed at the ground and he impacted, back-first, into an outcropping of rock. He righted himself inelegantly and attempted to regain his feet. Cracks upon his neck and reaching down his chest made his armor look like a mosaic. Bits of chitin continued to dislodge with each unsteady step and each shake of his head. He nearly stumbled upon something underfoot. When he looked to see what it was, he raised a hand to his head to confirm that the left end of the horn was no longer where it was supposed to be.
Jav cocked his head and raised his hands to just before his face, left over right, poised as if holding an invisible ball.
“Farewell, Portan.”
Jav leapt forward, reaching Portan in an instant, stretched his hands out so that the left rested upon Portan’s forehead and the right gripped his chin. Performing the calculations centuries of practice had made almost reflex, Jav executed the Kaiser Claw.
He eased the body down against the outcropping, a sharp twinge fluttering somewhere behind his ribs, then turned to face the Heavy Land soldiers. “Stand down or die,” he shouted.
For a tense moment, the soldiers teetered on the edge of attacking. Jav felt sure that countless among them would charge headlong into certain death just for the chance to avenge their commander, but then it looked as if a wave of relaxation passed through the body of troops, as if they’d received some communication absolving them of duty, of responsibility, assuaging their thoughts of revenge, replacing those thoughts with some other imperative that didn’t involve fighting just now. He thought he almost felt it himself, but shrugged the absurd notion away. Some were visibly placated by whatever it was, but many were not.
Jav watched the charge, seeing it in what felt like slow motion. He shook his head in resignation. Maybe it was better this way.
“Gran Mid! Fire!”
When Gran Mid was done, every Heavy Land soldier was dead or immobile. Those who hadn’t died outright, were dying at various rates within their fused armor.
Within an hour, everything outside the tower was organized to Jav’s satisfaction. The scorched bodies had been hauled away and piled high. The gaping hole leading into the Tower remained unchanged, though Jav hadn’t been able to help looking every couple of minutes to make sure that that was so. With his main force now guarding the Tower as the Heavy Land Division had, he led a hundred skeletons inside.
• • •
The moment he stepped through the gate, Jav was transported to where he did not know. There were no lighting fixtures, but a dim, pervasive dusklight provided limited illumination. He was in a corridor that was reminiscent of those of the Root Palace. If it wasn’t Vine fiber, it was something very like Vine fiber, but gray and almost completely smooth with no striations. This reassured him that he was at least still within the Tower, but no longer in control. None of his troops accompanied him. It was dead quiet—except for the whisper which might or might not ha
ve been in his head.
“This way,” the little voice urged.
Seeing no other options, Jav followed the sound of the voice. With every turned corner and threshold crossed, the walls shifted, eliminating the way from which he’d come. He knew he was being herded, but could do nothing about it. If it came to it, he could test the walls themselves, but was not optimistic about how that might go. There was little to do but see the journey to its end.
• • •
Stepping over one final threshold put Jav into a large, brightly lit, doorless chamber. The walls were white, but occupying one was a great window, tinted nearly black. Through it, Jav could see the terrain of the planet arrayed before him in disconcerting detail. He could see his bunker, and Raus’s surrounded by corpse troops. He could see Icsain’s bunker and beyond that the Root Palace and all the mechanization Scanlan had wrought. Something about the view, so much like a child’s diorama, tugged at his stomach, nauseated him. He saw cities, too, and marveled at how none fell upon the invisible line that connected the Root Palace to him here at the Loss Tower. He walked up to the glass, focusing on first one, then two cities—a total of five distinct urban spreads—and noted that there were no people anywhere. He realized suddenly that the air was clear; there was no mist, nothing at all to obscure the view. He wasn’t sure how he could see any of what he was seeing from here without using AI, but as he stared on, he became certain that not a person stirred indoors or out within any of the cities.
“Enjoying the view?”
Jav whirled to see a figure behind him. A man, a few centimeters shorter than Jav himself, covered not in plates as previous Loss Commanders, but a smooth, waxy gray skin that either revealed or presented a perfect physique. There were seams at his joints and chitin guards covered his forearms and shins. His head was round and smooth, but his face, below an inset pair of iridescent turquoise eyes, was a complex of mouthparts consisting of palps flanking something like a fat double-edged, serrated knife jutting down to a point just past his chin.
LAGREIN
LOSS QUEEN’S GUARD COMMANDER
“Or does it make you sick?” he asked. He placed his arms behind his back, and began to pace. “I’ve treated the glass so you can clearly see the presence you’ve established here on Loss.”
Jav remained silent and simply watched the Loss Commander.
“Yes, it’s making me sick, too, though probably not for the same reasons. Thought you might like to see how far you’ve come. Or, rather, how far away from help you are.
“She said not to interfere, not to stand in your way, but how could I agree to this? How could any of us, especially with you right here? A bit of a conundrum, really. Our Queen insists that we can serve her best by stepping down, by not serving her at all, but who with a heart beating in his chest can do this? As her soldiers, we have our pride, but more than that, we swore blood oaths to uphold the peace of Loss, to protect the Queen, and to defend this Tower. Every Lossian soldier knows the truth of the Tower. It is the best-kept and most widely-known secret there is. But knowing—really knowing—puts everything in perspective, which is why every one of us to a man, has defied her orders. There is no question that she could cure the infection you represent, but not one of us would see her do it alone, or even dirty her hands. She has given too much in service to the Tower for so very long. Our lives are the only true tokens of gratitude we can offer, and we offer them willingly.
Dropping his arms to his sides, Lagrein stopped and faced Jav. “I am Lagrein, Commander of the Loss Queen’s Guard. You needn’t tell me who you are. I know your names. Now, defend yourself. As I offer my life, you may lose your own. In fact, I’m counting on it.”
Jav grunted indignantly and sprang forward.
Lagrein casually raised his right hand. His index and middle fingers were extended, his ring and pinky fingers were held by the thumb—just like the Secret Sword fist—and he proceeded to draw with his pointing fingers an obscure symbol in the air.
Jav could actually feel the Kaiser Bones attempting to translate the mark, then he could somehow feel the mark itself as he was pressed suddenly and violently backwards, almost simultaneously impacting into the white wall behind him.
As Lagrein drew his hand back, Jav felt the pressure release and he dropped to his feet, then to one knee. The force had been tremendous. Standing, he became aware of a sharp pain, like a needle lodged inside him, that he couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t debilitating. It was something that he was even now getting used to, but it wasn’t going away. Inside him, it felt like something cold and wet was spreading.
“Oh?” Lagrein said, nodding towards Jav. “Are you in pain?”
Jav glanced down and noticed that he’d unconsciously placed his right hand just below his ribs where the pain stabbed. He removed it at once and advanced again, this time using a combination of raw strength and AI to deliver the True Kaiser Kick. Lagrein, however, was ready and writing with his fingers, finishing just in time to stop Jav in mid-air only centimeters away. Lagrein took a step back and nearly faltered. Jav quivered in the air, and dropped down to his feet, apparently free of whatever had snared him. He found he was indeed free, but that further gross applications of AI seemed impossible. He ignored this handicap, and proceeded to engage Lagrein with the Eighteen Heavenly Claws.
For an instant, Lagrein appeared to be exhausted, either mentally or physically, but he wasn’t finished yet. He met Jav’s claw-hands with his two-fingered fists, turning the claws away with expert precision, wasting absolutely no motion. Jav thought that it was like fighting Forbis Vays, if Vays used an empty-hand style.
They crossed fists again and again, countering each other’s strikes, turning counters into new strikes, and through the exchange, Jav sensed that he might be the stronger of them, though this provided no edge. He opted for joint locks, but found it difficult to lay hands upon Lagrain, and when he was able, found it difficult to hold on or manipulate the joint. Indeed, Lagrein laughed when Jav shifted focus and Jav soon saw why.
Lagrein’s arms moved like slippery eels, always ahead of Jav’s and seeking to effect the lock Jav was attempting. Jav was indeed stronger, but only because he could apply AI as a supplement. Lagrein was, by far, superior to him in this regard or any other joint lock tactician he’d yet encountered. Raus’s Sarsan wrestling was as an infant’s blind flailing by comparison.
They continued in this way for minutes, moving back and forth and crossing the room several times in a fluid, shifting embrace. Minutes stretched on, but neither gained any advantage. Both were starting to tire noticeably, and both chose the same moment to attempt to end the fight. Jav’s hands shot for Lagrein’s head, gripping crown and chin, his right being pierced by the serrated mouthpart at the latter. Lagrein didn’t resist, shot his arms through the gaps between Jav’s arms and his body as if trying to embrace him, his fingers coming back around to hook into Jav’s eye sockets.
Reference points continued to be elusive, and the positioning Lagrein had put them in made movement difficult, but Jav had locked on and was able to initiate the Kaiser Claw. Lagrein’s already brilliant turquoise eyes, began to blaze. As Jav twisted his hands to finalize the Claw, he felt an immeasurable tug at his very life. A tumult of forces erupted at once, separating them. Jav tumbled head over heels through the air, and perhaps through a few walls, losing all sense of direction, of up or down, and finally he blacked out.
4
THE LOSS QUEEN
10,923.023.1500
Planet 1612 (Loss)
Sanga Mountains • Loss Tower
When Jav opened his eyes, he was surprised to see himself standing. He was in another white chamber, but the window of this one looked on the setting sun, white and struggling. Lagrein was gone, but before the window was a girl, whose back, adorned with spectral butterfly wings of dark gold, was to him.
“Are you awake?” she said.
It was a simple question and though her voice was not in and of itse
lf remarkable—neither was it unpleasant—the sound of it hit Jav harder than anything he could consciously remember, nearly flooring him with the cocktail of emotions it elicited. Faces, moments, tragedies flashed through his mind in fast succession, culminating with the girl with the red hair and her unfortunate fate. Hilene. That was her name, but the association wasn’t quite right.
The girl turned to face him, revealing herself to be a petite woman, with perfect porcelain skin, and glossy black hair, straight until it curled on either side under her chin. Seeing her, Jav swallowed hard and felt a flush suffuse his entire body: familiarity, connection, lust. He studied her shamelessly. She wore a white and gold bodysuit of soft, flexible plates that showed her figure. He felt like he knew her body—ample breasts over a tiny waist—felt like they’d been intimate, like they’d known each other forever.
Jav closed his eyes and threw his head back, trying to focus, to fight the traitorous feelings raging through him. Focus proved impossible, though, as his mind raced, pursuing its own agenda. Last had been Isleyna. Before her there had been others, countless others. His mind spun, reaching backwards through time, acknowledging some he knew, many he didn’t, each one bringing more emptiness, more pain. His memories slowed: a blond girl he’d known for the span of a few days who’d died in his arms; Mai Pardine, whom he’d known substantially longer, killed by Laedra Hol; and then. . . Jennifer Gordon, the first of them all. Jennifer Gordon. She’d been so beautiful, so like the woman before him right now. But the image of ragged red holes opening up across her chest and stomach, of her being beset by the Sun Lion, and literally torn apart helped him to begin to compartmentalize. His memories jumped forward again to Isleyna, to the moments before he’d lost her, to the pair of animate ink-spot eyes belonging to whatever it was that had driven the knife into her temple.
The Loss Queen (Approaching Infinity Book 5) Page 9
