by O. J. Lowe
When the beep came through that the code had been cracked, she let go of the sigh she’d been holding in, relief flooding out through her. Already Wade was punching in the code and scanning the fingerprints in. Nothing happened at first, then she saw the faintest traces of movement as the gears inside spun and the vault door gradually began its movement, swinging open with a final decisive thump.
He looked at her. “Ladies first?”
She decided to ignore that, strode in like she owned the place. Might as well start as she meant to go on. He trailed after her like a shadow, a light already flickering on in the vault at their arrival.
Not what she’d been expecting, but at the same time, she wasn’t entirely sure what she might have found in the vault. If it did belong to Coppinger, at the very least, there could be a huge pile of credits in there, more than she or Wade would ever see in their lifetime. None of that though.
Crates though, there were plenty of them, sealed up wooden boxes stacked as high as the eye could see. Lots of statues and stonework, most of them figures that looked somewhat familiar but that she couldn’t even hope to name. Curiosities and mementos lined the shelves, some of them useless, some of them attractive and some of them radiated power. Slowly the two of them advanced into the room, looking at each other.
“What is this stuff?” Wade asked, wonder in his voice. She couldn’t blame him. Based on an initial speculation, she’d guess that a third of the stuff was crap, a third was valuable and the final third was really bloody dangerous in the wrong hands. Some of it was spirit caller stuff, some of it looked like weapons that hadn’t been seen for decades.
“Hells if I know,” she murmured, trying to shake the horrible feeling of suspicion starting to cast a pall over her. More and more, she was starting to feel the impression that they weren’t in the right place. Beyond that, they were in trouble just by walking in here. Every instinct was screaming at her to get out of here, to leave the building before something bad happened to them. “Wade…”
He ignored her, strode into the centre of the room, he looked like a child in a candy store, trying to take in every sight and sensation as fast as he could.
“Wade!”
She couldn’t blame him, there was power in this room. Seductive, alluring power that called out to be touched. It wanted to be used, to reach its inky tendrils around you and take everything that you were. Power whispering to you, urging silently to come forth and take it, to realise your dreams and make your enemies nightmares come to fruition. She could feel its influence, she had enough sense to ignore it. Temptation held no dangers for her, she’d wanted for more in the past and let it be.
“Wade!”
Still nothing, she watched as he reached out and put a hand on one of the crates, his face contorted into concentration. She made her choice, hurried after him, a hand on his shoulder.
“Ignore it!” she said, whispering it into his ear. “Whatever it’s offering you, it’ll not be what you think.”
He tried to pull away from her, she tightened her grip, turned him to face her, fingers digging into pressure points on his shoulder. “It’s not a price you want to pay!” she said. She saw his eyes narrow, fought the urge to slap him out of it. Anger seared through his pupils, she could feel his muscles tighten.
“Wade!”
Something changed, his eyes softened, and the anger retreated, a long breath slid from him. She could feel the relaxation of his muscles.
“Damn,” he said. “That was…”
“It wasn’t true,” she said, moving to cut him off. “Whatever it was whispering to you, it wasn’t true. I don’t think we’re in the right place, let’s go find another vault.”
Pree made to turn, heard the burst of sarcastic laughter from behind her and her heart fell. She knew then that they were in trouble, saw the tall frame at the door, the hair framing the scarlet and yellow that made up his face. It was a skull, not like any that Wade would have seen before.
She had, too many times and it never ended well when it did. Darkness swirled around him like a cape, a malignant smell of sulphur and rot heavy in the air.
Shit!
Suddenly she wished she’d brought a different weapon with her. The blaster felt painfully inadequate for the situation at hand.
Wade didn’t hesitate, he knew that the guy was bad news and they had to put him down quickly. Lingering would cost them. He gripped his blaster tight, saw Pree react just too late… “Don’t!” … he rose, aimed and fired. His aim was good, his eyes were better than they’d ever been before, meant to send it straight through the forehead.
That had been the target. Somewhere between blaster and skull, the bolt had stopped, stuck frozen between them. The ground beneath it shone with its effervescence, he could feel the heat from across the room.
The masked man looked at him, a hand outstretched in front of him. Dark gloves coated his fingers, fingers that he waved lazily in the air at Wade. Gradually, the bolt started to retreat from him, inching backwards to whence it had come. Wade’s eyes widened, he went to drop, found his legs wouldn’t move. His fingers slid open, the X9S fell through them and bounced away into the shadows.
“You had one free shot,” the man said, his voice muffled behind his mask. “One shot and you wasted it. Terrible. The price of failure, dear boy, is always the steepest.” He took a step forward, the bolt dancing backwards as if it feared him. “That you would even consider facing me with a weapon like that is nothing short of insult.”
The hair, the frame… Realisation dawned on Wade, his mind racing as he tried to work a way out of this. He couldn’t see Pree, she’d vanished from sight. Maybe she’d made a run for it. He couldn’t blame her in these circumstances.
“You’re Allison, aren’t you?” he said. “The guy who owns this place.”
Maybe he blinked behind the mask. If there was any sign of surprise externally, Wade didn’t see it. It was like staring into a portrait, whatever he was thinking hidden behind the layers.
“You’re smarter than you look,” he said. “You know, I didn’t think anyone would ever find this place. You both picked the wrong vault to wander into, son, you know that?”
The wrong place at the wrong time. Story of his life. He managed to contort his lips into a bitter grin, tried to force his legs to work. They wouldn’t oblige him, refused to follow his commands. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat beaded on his forehead. He didn’t want to admit how bad it was right now.
“Right now, I’m holding you in place,” the man said. “I’m slowly bringing you to a standstill. First your body becomes unable to move, as your muscles freeze. Then your blood starts to stop flowing as your heart goes with it. You were dead the moment you set foot in here.” He sounded almost apologetic. “A shame, but it is what it is. Such is life.”
He sniffed the air, head cocked back like he’d heard something, eyes darting across the corners of the black.
“Interesting,” he said. “Someone else’s in here, aren’t they? Not just you.” He looked pointedly at Wade. “You’re not doing that, are you?”
Doing what? Wade didn’t know, couldn’t even start to give an answer. Again, he tried to move, made to twitch his frozen fingers. His body screamed with the effort, fought against the invisible force wrapped around him. Nothing. Not a thing. Still he strained, felt the tips of his fingers twitch before the effort overwhelmed him. A grunt slipped out, he couldn’t feel his tongue any longer, the taste of copper flooded his mouth as teeth met muscle.
Pree had known and she’d bolted. Not a chance she was going to get caught up like Wade. That man was trouble, she wanted to face him on her own terms, from a position of strength rather than one of weakness. Right now, they were both in the latter position. She wanted the former.
Shadows leant their cover to her, she slipped into them like a fine cloak, creeping around the boxes. Somewhere here, there had to be something. Come on, please! Anything! Blasters weren’t going to be much us
e against the figure, she might as well go throw rocks at him. It’d likely be marginally more effective.
She heard his voice, exactly how she remembered. A wind across dry leaves on a stormy day. Those had been her impressions, and nothing had changed.
“I know you’re there, little mouse.”
He wasn’t referring to her directly. He didn’t know what she was, just that she was amidst the shadows. He might not even know for sure, merely suspect. Suspicion was just as bad as confirmation though. Worse perhaps. With suspicion, the feeling only grew and grew. Suspicious people did stupid things. Both trains of influence in her life had taught her that. It’s better to be suspicious than dead.
She saw the light before she heard it, felt it streak towards her and she was up and running, diving behind a crate as the orb struck the spot where she’d hidden. She watched it bounce, shielded her eyes as the flames exploded out into dusty air, as bright as a miniature supernova. She could feel the heat searing across her forearms and screwed up her face at the pain. Another came her way, struck a crate above her head and tore a chunk through the wood, showering her with the contents. Various debris rained around her, bits and pieces of flotsam she couldn’t even start to guess the purpose at.
All bar one. She looked at the cylinder in front of her, took in the metal and her heart leaped. Yes!
She brought it into her grasp, twisted one end of it open to check the crystal inside. One was present, she tipped it out into the palm of her hand and felt the weight. It danced with energy, she knew that much. It was alive and ready, filled with the eager presence of something so long locked away.
Okay. This was good. Her heart danced with relief. This she could work with. It gave her a fighting chance at least, all she’d ever wanted. She locked the cylinder back into place, ran a final examination to ensure it wouldn’t blow up in her hand.
Maybe this was a stupid thing to do, some part of her cautioned. Either way, she’d die if she failed. Better to go out on your feet than cowering in the corner.
She didn’t know who had trained her to think that way, maybe the two fields of influence converged on that point. Live for nothing. Die for something.
“She runs,” the masked man said, his attention slipping back to Wade. “Your conspirator has abandoned you, she saves her own skin. No matter, for I will sluice it from her body, she will suffer. You both will. This place is mine. Mine!”
He didn’t hear the words, still too busy trying to wrap his reeling mind around what he’d just witnessed. Those orbs, they’d not been natural. He’d known that in an instant, had felt them more than he’d seen them. They left a very distinct impression in his mind, tingling and gleeful. The corners of his mouth twitched up into a grin, he was aware of how much a buffoon he looked.
They weren’t grenades, he’d summoned them out of nothing and pitched them out in the darkness. He’d seen her run in the flash, had heard her yell out. Then nothing. Silence.
He hoped Pree had gotten away. She’d tried to stop him, he’d ignored it, and this was where he’d ended up.
That confidence in himself that he was going to win. It had been there, flooded through him, only to be wiped away in an instant. The price of his own hubris, he guessed. He mentally kicked himself.
“Wherever she will run, I will find her. Be sure of that.”
He heard her throat clearing before he saw her step out of the darkness, hands behind her back. The look on her face was a thing of sheer beauty, powerful determination etched into her features. Right there, Prideaux Khan was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, he could feel the radiance from her like he never had before. Normally, he got the impression from her that something was being held back, like she was deliberately making herself out to be less than before. A curious mind might have wondered about it, he’d chosen to accept her choice. If that was what she wanted to do, she could. It made her more effective, was the reason she’d been nicknamed the Spectre.
Now though, all of that had been cast away and her full terrible glory apparent, brought to the forefront of her being.
“Who’s running,” she said, her voice playful and deadly. “I’m right here.”
He gave her barely a glance at first, saw her and reconsidered, his head bobbing back and forth between the magic man and the partner he didn’t recognise. Ignoring a woman who gave off impressions like that could either be your worst mistake or your greatest triumph.
“Nice mask,” she said. “I name you Tarene, if I’m not mistaken. Lowest of the Lords, the Keeper of Curiosities. I’m sure you have others as well, but those two are the only ones I could ever be bothered to remember.”
That shook him, Wade noticed, more than getting shot at. He went stiff, his body arched back like she’d slapped him.
“You’d do well to show some respect to your betters, girl,” he growled. “Or do you wish to spend your last minutes of life learning the error of your ways.”
Pree smiled at him, her grin growing and growing. “Oh, teach me, teach me!” she said. “Please! I’ve always been a slow learner.” He could hear the sarcasm in her voice, could read the way she was coiled like a spring. She had a plan, he hoped. Otherwise this was going to end very badly for them both. Bravado only took you so far unless you had the capabilities to back it up.
The sudden return of movement to his body took him by surprise, everything came back to him in a heartbeat, he fell to his knees as Tarene turned on her. Pree held both hands up, glanced past the masked man and winked at him.
“Okay, okay,” she said. “I didn’t expect that to work. But since it did…” She thrust both hands out in front of her, locked together at the wrists, fingers outstretched. He felt the effect rippling in the air, and then Tarene was airborne. Wade watched as he flew off his feet, hit the far wall and bounced, hitting the ground in an untidy heap. He didn’t look so threatening suddenly. Seeing someone get tossed around like a ragdoll tended to decrease their threat impact.
Down but not out, Tarene rose to his feet, shaking himself like a dog. Gloved hands came up to adjust his mask, the eyeholes out of kilter with the glittering orbs of malice. “You’re an insolent little bitch!” he snarled. “I’ll tear your head off!”
“Head, skin, you’re all talk,” Pree said. There was no anger in her voice, just calm detachment. If she was intimidated, she did an outstanding job of hiding it. “Threats of violence aren’t anywhere near as effective as violence itself. If you want to regain some dignity, you know where I am.”
Tarene’s hands moved, fingertips stretched out in front of him, Wade saw the steam rise from them before the liquid blasted out, streaking towards his partner, drenching the ground beneath its path. One moment she was there, the next she wasn’t, stepped aside and raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t even seen her move. Scalding water struck the space where she’d stood, splashed harmlessly to the stone floor.
“You’re a blade,” he said. “That cocky disregard, the lack of subtlety. I see it all now. The princes and the Dark King will have your head for your betrayal. You have attacked one of their lords and they will cut you down for it. Your name will be mud, your deeds and your possessions forfeit for the glorious cause.”
She giggled, a strange sound seeping out the darkness. “Only if I lose. The dead lose everything, and the living take it all. You know the rules, my lord.” The last word should have sounded respectful, Wade guessed, she made it sound so mocking.
Not for the first time, he wondered exactly what he’d gotten himself into here.
She hadn’t been lying. She remembered Lord Tarene, had recognised him the moment she’d seen the mask. Of the eight lords, he was the lowest, the one recognised to be most likely knocked off his perch, though saying it and doing it were different things. Not for nothing had he ascended to the rank of lord. The scalding water was a nice trick though, as ineffective as it might have been.
Blade and proud, that was her. She’d hit him with one of her best, he’d shaken it off
quickly enough. She wasn’t going to beat him in a throw-down over their mastery of the Kjarn. Lords knew secrets. Secrets only the princes and the Dark King would share with them when their loyalty was assured. The only way to ascend to lord was to prove yourself by removing the previous figure in the role, without arousing suspicion until after the fact.
If they were killed, they were weak. They prized power and strength alongside the will to use it. If they were killed, there was someone more deserving of the place.
“You challenge me then?” Tarene asked, the anger gone from his voice. Perhaps now he considered her a threat, she might have overplayed her hand. The cause of death in ninety-five percent of cases where lords had been overthrown, killed and succeeded by their murderer was overconfidence. For him to take her seriously might have damaged her chances of success.
“I do,” she said. “In this place, at this time, I challenge you for everything that you have and everything that could be mine, as is my right.”
“Grant me your name, Child,” he said, his voice not free of condescension. He was doing it deliberately, she knew that, trying to get inside her head and rattle her. She’d seen too many of these exchanges between lord and blade before to let it fool her. Psychology only took you so far. By ignoring her hard-earned title, he diminished her as a warrior and hope to force her into rash decisions.
Since it was going to be her last fight as a blade, she smiled and threw caution to the wind. Leave nothing behind “My name is Prideaux Agnes Khan, Agent of Unisco. Yet you can call me Blade Telles, the name that was bestowed upon me by my master upon cessation of being his apprentice.”
He wasn’t impressed, she could tell with his body language, stood languid with his hands at his side. That was her first impression, until she looked closer at him. His fingers twitched like an old-time gunslinger. If he did have a blaster, she wouldn’t feel the worry flooding through her. Blasters she could deal with, no problem. She’d been shot before, more than once. Underneath her clothes, her body was pocked with the scars of a hard life.
