Secrets of Silverwind

by Sanders, Richard L.

  No! I’m not one of you. We aren’t the same.

  He pulled the helmet over his head, the foam inside it pressed against his ears and the world became silent. He activated the helmet’s power and the crisp buzz of the room was picked up by the mic and routed through the internal speakers. He flipped the visor down. Instantly his vision was filled with static but the visor blinked, configuring to his needs, staying in the visible light spectrum but adding a touch of extra contrast.

  He looked again in the mirror and saw a fully armored enforcer looking back at him. He moved a bit, and felt light as a feather. The suit responded to his motions, amplifying them. He couldn’t lift a car over his head but his strength had much more bite than before.

  He raised his left hand absent-mindedly and examined the scarred tissue under the light. The ring-mark could be seen clearly. He wondered what had happened to his ring. With it, he would be so much more powerful.

  He met up with the others in the main hall. They were seven in total. All fully suited enforcers, and all male. Everyone but him wore dark green. A strange color for armor, one Caythis did not understand. The academy issued white armor for air enforcers, red for fire, and blue for water. There was no green element. Only overseers and masters wore different colors. So why the green? And why so many? He assumed this was one of Lucida’s twisted ideas. Perhaps she used green to identify the enforcers she favored above the rest.

  One of them was talking animatedly, using his hands. Caythis’ armor automatically adjusted the volume so he could hear everything clearly.

  “This has to be quick. We meet back here in two hours, is that clear?” asked Almach.

  The others voice agreement. Caythis remained silent. Almach faced him. They stared at each other for a minute. Nether able to see the other’s face. Caythis noticed a handcomputer strapped to Almach’s belt, and thought instantly about how it would help him. Once he took it from Almach.

  Each enforcer was given a specific task. They would travel to an entry point, go into the underground, infiltrate the Manors Borough—which housed the government and the wealthy—and then resurface near the Prefect’s mansion. They would confirm both prefects were inside and secure all the exits. At that point, there would be a controlled flame and the whole building would go down along with everyone inside it. Almach explained the exit strategy and extraction procedures and Caythis couldn’t help but imagine the scene. A family, probably with children, a few servants. All sleeping in their beds only to find themselves locked in their own house. Unable to escape. Burned alive with everyone they loved. It made him sick and yet... it felt oddly familiar...

  “Since he is the fire enforcer here, Caythis will start the fire,” said Almach.

  Caythis didn’t let himself react. That had been the plan. He had to pretend to go along with them. Of course, he would have made his move long before.

  “Isn’t that right, Caythis?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Caythis. “For the greater good.”

  “For the greater good indeed.”

  Almach dismissed the others and they filed out. Caythis remained in place.

  “What is it?” demanded Almach.

  “I haven’t been able to perform magic since you revived me,” Caythis lied. “I might not be able to torch the house. We should bring along an incendiary device, just in case.”

  “Very well,” said Almach. “Come with me.” He led them down the hall to a set of stairs. Caythis expected the incendiary devices to be stored somewhere along with other weapons and hazardous materials. Hopefully something that could penetrate the few weak points of enforcer armor. If not... he’d have to hope he could summon more magical fire than he gave himself credit for.

  They descended a few flights of stairs and ended up at a metal door. Almach unlocked it and they entered.

  The room could only be described as an armory. The walls were dripping with weapons and ammunition of all levels and varieties. Much more than the enforcers who staffed the place could hope to use. Especially since, as a rule, enforcers preferred swords and magic to firearms. Lucida could only be planning a revolution with such a stockpile. Either that or she was going to sell them to Rigil, the despot whose iron grip squeezed the life out of Citadel.

  Class two weapons and armor, including bullet-resistant synthetic fiber, rifles, shotguns, and similar tactical equipment seemed to outnumber everything else. Almach strode meaningfully toward the far side of the room. While he was busy collecting an incendiary device, Caythis looked around for something that could punch through enforcer armor. There wasn’t much but he settled on something. He picked up a shotgun, loaded a metal slug, and walked up to Almach, whose back faced him.

  “The others will get there before we do, their van will have left by now. We’ll take our own ride. Do you remember how to drive?” Almach was saying, still not facing him.

  Caythis walked closer, now only feet away. Almach finished securing the incendiary device and stood up, turning around. Caythis pumped the shotgun.

  “What the hell are you doing?” asked Almach, he dropped the incendiary device and tapped his helmet, trying to enable a wide-band voice message.

  Caythis wouldn’t let him. He pointed the shotgun at Almach’s knee, where the armor was the weakest, and fired. There was a loud report and Almach crashed to the ground, the lower part of his leg partially severed. The armor around his lower leg was blackened and torn and blood seeped through the shredded undersuit and painted the cement floor.

  Caythis came closer, watching Almach struggle. His screams were lost inside his helmet. Again he tried to send a message, desperately reaching for the wide-band transmit switch on his helmet.

  Caythis bent down, tossed the shotgun aside, and gripped Almach’s helmet with both hands. Almach resisted weakly but he was no match. Caythis pressed the release and ripped the helmet from Almach’s head. Revealing his agonized face—he seemed dazed now, perhaps on the verge of unconsciousness, and in so much pain. Caythis grabbed Almach’s head and forced him to look into his eyes.

  “That was for Raven.”

  Wanting to put Almach out of his misery, Caythis took Almach’s sword, pressed Almach’s ring against its activation chip, and watched it glow furiously to life. Without hesitation, he guided it firmly through Almach’s armor and into his chest. Any life left in Almach’s eyes faded.

  Satisfied, Caythis de-activated the sword, strapped it to his back, collected Almach’s handcomputer, and took Almach’s ring. It was cold to his touch because it wasn’t his and didn’t recognize him, so it could not enhance his magic. But it would still activate an enforcer’s sword which was his weapon of choice. He placed the ring around his left thumb, since it was too wide for his middle finger, and ran.

  An alert sounded in his helmet. Probably was sounding in everyone’s helmet. Damn! How had Almach gotten it off? Maybe someone had heard the gunshot? “All units commence alpha sweep,” a voice crackled over the helmet’s speaker, it was a priority message picked up by every enforcer in the building.

  He raced up the stairs but avoided the main hall and primary exits. He was sure he’d seen a more subtle backdoor that led to the complex’s garage. He darted around another corner, cut through a side hallway, and dashed for the exit.

  It was unguarded and unlocked. He opened it and rushed inside. It didn’t lead to the garage, unfortunately. It was just a storage room. With yet another exit on the far side. He ran for it but ducked and hid behind some boxes when he heard someone enter from behind. The way he’d come in. He snuck to a better position, wanting to assess the threat.

  It was a single enforcer, dressed in white armor. His sword was out, but inactive, and he was definitely searching for something. He walked through the room, checking things over, and approached the boxes Caythis was hidden behind.

  Caythis could probably incinerate the man with his magic, or else defeat him in a swordfight. But he didn’t want to kill the man if he didn’t have to. He only killed those who
deserved it, and even then didn’t relish the task. The man probably didn’t deserve it. He was an enforcer, but his white armor seemed to showcase that he was not favored by Lucida. Perhaps he’d been coerced by her?

  Caythis snuck around some more stored equipment and came up behind the man. He snapped his hands around the man’s helmet and twisted it hard, clicking the release button in the process. It popped off and Caythis tossed it aside.

  “What the hell?” said the man. He was older than Caythis had expected, hair and mustache already turning gray. He reeled to face Caythis, who was all too ready. With a firm shove the enforcer was knocked onto his back.

  “I don’t want to fight you.”

  The man’s palm glowed. Caythis had to act quickly! He snatched his inactive sword from behind his back and swatted the blunt metal against the man’s head. Miraculously, the man stayed conscious and held his concentration. A jet of magical air exploded from his palm.

  Caythis leaned forward, trying to brace himself. But was blown off his feet and thrown into the wall. He collapsed onto his hands and knees. He rebounded quickly—his armor having absorbed most of the impact.

  By now the enforcer had climbed to his feet as well, and strapped his helmet back on. He drew his sword and activated it. Caythis activated his too. The flow of charged plasma lit the room brightly and both their helmets adjusted accordingly.

  “I’d rather not kill you but I will if I have to,” said Caythis.

  “It’s too late. They already know you’re here,” the man’s voice crackled back over the speaker. Just then the doors on both sides slammed shut and sealed, due to some kind of automatic switch.

  “How?” asked Caythis.

  The enforcer pointed up to a camera on the ceiling. Caythis hadn’t spotted it before. Interesting that Lucida keeps her own people under surveillance...

  “I can carve through the door,” said Caythis. “So stand aside.”

  “Not fast enough. Even if you killed me, these are reinforced doors. Only an enforcer’s handprint can open them.”

  Caythis ran to the exit and palmed the plate with his left hand. It didn’t budge.

  “You don’t have clearance.”

  “But you do,” Caythis guessed, pointing his sword. “Open it for me. I don’t want to kill you.”

  “I... can’t,” he almost sounded disappointed.

  “What do you mean you can’t? Don’t you have clearance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do it! There are people’s lives out there that depend on me. Lucida has ordered the execution of two government officials. I have to stop it. Don’t you remember your duty is to the people?”

  The man was unreadable behind his visor. Caythis debated attacking him. He didn’t want to if he didn’t have to, this man was old enough to remember how the enforcers used to be, if only he could jog that memory.

  “Do it,” said Caythis. “Open it.”

  “I want to—you have no idea how much I want to! But I can’t. I have no choice,” his words were grim.

  “There’s always a choice," insisted Caythis.

  The man seemed to visibly tremble for a minute. Grappling with some deep internal conflict. Then he lowered his sword and looked up at the camera. Defiantly. “All right.” He marched to the door and pressed his palm against the plate. The door whisked open. Then he collapsed face down.

  Caythis had no time to lose. But instead of bolting through the exit, he ran to the enforcer, had to see if he was okay.

  The enforcer was unresponsive. Caythis shook him. “Talk to me, friend.”

  Nothing.

  Caythis unsealed the man’s helmet and pulled it off. Blood streamed from the man’s nose and squirted out around his eyes. Caythis let go and took a step back. Repulsed and confused. It was like a small explosive had gone off in the man’s head. Nothing else made sense. He looked up at the security camera and realized Lucida was a truly sick person.

  He dashed away, through the exit, and down a narrow hallway. Unfortunately, there was no access to the garage, but he found a rear exit. There was only one problem with it.

  Lucida stood in the way, fully clad in her lavender armor, facing him. Helmet and all. Her inactive sword at the ready.

  “You are a heartless murderer,” her voice crackled over his speaker. “You killed Almach, your own friend, in cold blood.”

  He wasn’t about to let her play mind games with him. “You’re the heartless murderer,” he said. “You put an explosive in a man’s head and when he disobeyed you, you terminated him.”

  “Don’t make this about me,” she said. “This has always been about you. About you trying to prove something to yourself. Let go, for once. Accept what destiny has offered you. Even now I am willing to take you back. All can be forgiven. Let yourself see the whole truth.”

  “I’ve seen enough.”

  “You’ve seen nothing! You close your eyes to the truth. No one is more blind than the one who refuses to see.”

  “I can’t let you murder those men. I can’t let you take over the government, no matter how bad things are in Silverwind. You can only make them worse.”

  “Those men will die, you’re too late to stop them. I’ve already personally ordered their deaths by any means necessary. Wheels are in motion that you cannot stop. All you get to decide is whether you’re on top of those wheels, or under them.”

  He took a step closer. “Out of my way, Lucida.”

  “You think you’re some kind of hero?” she said, also taking a step closer. “You think you’re a good person? Then you truly remember nothing.”

  He ignored her, refusing to let her undermine his confidence.

  “Tell me one thing, Lucida,” he said. “Did you order Raven’s death?”

  She activated her sword and it roared to life. “Goodbye, Caythis. We could have been great together.”

  He activated his own sword and attacked. She met him halfway and their blades collided.

  A lot of slashes, quick jabs and thrusts were exchanged. He tried to keep her on the defensive. His style was extremely aggressive but sloppy, and she quickly turned things around. Driving him back the way he’d come with sweeping stroke after sweeping stroke, each time her attacks came closer and closer to cutting him.

  He saw his window before long, and ducked her attack. Rolling to the side, he regained his footing and plunged his sword toward her. She flew out of the way, narrowly, and with incredible finesse. Before he could attack her again, she came at him wildly. Driving him back down the hall, pressing her advantage with extreme prejudice. He found her strokes easy to parry but difficult to keep pace with. He would not relent, though. So much fury boiled inside him. He was desperate to avenge Raven, and even more desperate to escape this luxurious hell and thwart her plans.

  They fought vigorously, both going for the kill. It was exhausting and he was tiring faster than she was. A jab sizzled just an inch from his chest. But he refused to die, and that fear gave him energy.

  Instead of a parry he sidestepped, a gamble that paid off. He swung an aggressive stroke upwards at her, which she hadn’t expected. She stopped her attack short to block his and he charged. Throwing powerful blows that threatened her chest and jolted her arms with extreme recoil. He gained momentum and pushed her against a wall, utilizing his superior strength. Ready to strike her down once and for all. His sword carved through the marble wall but missed her somehow. His brain couldn’t figure out how she’d escaped. Her finesse was astonishing.

  And that left him somewhat exposed. She raised her palm and it glowed blue. A huge tide of water materialized and slammed into him with the blunt force of a truck, knocking him off his feet. His sword sizzled, boiling whatever water it touched, but the tide carrying him didn’t let up. It poured across the room and broke through the glass window, throwing him outside. He landed in a crumpled heap against the hard stone stairs of the back of the building. The armor protected him from injury but it still hurt.

 
He groaned as he fought to stand. Water poured through his air filters and into his mouth, nose, and eyes. He coughed violently but the water continued to pour over him. He deactivated the sword and tossed it aside. Hands free, he struggled to his feet and removed his helmet.

  The water lowered and spilled out into the street, the flow having stopped. He was on the outside steps, streetlights shining down on him. He stood in a daze, completely drenched. He coughed and cleared his airway then stumbled over to his sword and plucked it from the ground.

  He stared back at the exploded window, millions of glass shards glistening atop the many water puddles. He saw Lucida standing superior, looking down at him.

  He wanted to beat her so much, to take his revenge. To stop her from doing any more harm to the public, to the government, and even to her own enforcers. But he didn’t have time for that. She’d given him a window to escape and he had to take it. Had to rescue the prefects. But he promised himself that someday he’d be back. And she would answer for all she’d done.

  6

  At 15th Station he waited. Thunder rolled deeply as he stood under the covered canopy. He wasn’t at all surprised to see a few homeless people had fallen asleep here, taking advantage of the cover.

  He pulled out Almach’s handcomputer, which fortunately had survived Lucida’s soaking, and studied the path to the Prefect’s mansion. It revealed the positions of the other enforcers. They had a sizable head-start on him, but they weren’t there yet. In fact, they were only now entering the underground. That gave him just enough time, maybe, to get there first. So long as he stuck to the surface and didn’t use the underground. How he’d get inside Manors using the surface entrance would be a problem, since the borough was off limits to most people, especially enforcers. And guarded. The underground was definitely the safest way to sneak in. But also the slowest, since it was effectively an indirect maze.