by Amy Miles
When it does it is swift and stabbing. I cry out as tears stream down my cheeks. “Deep breaths, Queeny. It’ll all be over soon.”
I feel him lift my leg and unravel the bandage. I grit my teeth, moaning but determined not to cry out. Around the edges of my pain I can hear the pounding of boots and raised voices. I feel Hyde’s fingers tighten against my leg and I shriek, jerking back from his grasp.
“Illyria!”
I open my eyes and stare into Hyde’s widened eyes. There is pain there, deep and visceral. His mouth falls slack and his head plummets forward. He collapses onto me and I fight the agony of his weight against my leg.
“Hyde!” I scream, yanking on his arm. “Hyde! Get up!”
“Illyria?” I blink through the tears, raising my gaze to a dark figured man approaching. His knees are bent, his gun poised to strike.
I feel my grip on reality waver as Bastien rushes toward me. “Are you hurt?” he asks, tucking his gun into the clip on his belt. I stare up at him in disbelief. Bastien? He’s here? He’s alive?
Bastien grunts as he shoves Hyde’s body off me. I cry out as my friend collapses to the floor, his gaze unfocused. It is only now that I realize a wide patch of blood has seeped into my clothes, mirroring the growing stain around Hyde’s heart.
“No!” I scream, bucking wildly against Bastien’s grasp. “You killed him!”
I claw at Bastien, lost to the agony of Hyde’s death. “He was hurting you. I heard you screaming.”
“He wasn’t hurting me,” I cry, unable to tear my gaze away from the image of shock froze on Hyde’s face. “He was helping me.”
Bastien’s sapphire eyes narrow as he glances between my fallen friend and the unraveled bandage on my leg. His knees give out on him and he collapses beside me. A strangled moan rises from his throat as he reaches out toward my unbandaged leg with trembling hands. “Oh god,” he gasps for breath, “did he do this to you?”
“No,” I shake my head, feeling a quake begin in my toes and work up through me. I can’t look away from Hyde. His death is on me. It’s my fault! “He saved me,” I whisper.
Bastien kicks out his leg to move closer to me and shoves Hyde out of the way. I cry out and throw myself toward the floor. Darkness sweeps in to steal away my vision for a moment as brilliant lights of pain flare before my eyes when my incision slams against the floor. I shriek in agony but force myself to move, to reach Hyde.
I can hear Bastien calling to me but I ignore him. I can heal him. I can save him.
Pressing my hands to Hyde’s chest, I close my eyes and focus. The warmth of his blood gushes around my hand as I lean into him with increasing pressure. The healing warmth doesn’t come. Tears slip between my eyes as I realize that I can’t save him. Please, I silently beg to my unborn children. Help me save him! I know that you have the power to do so.
I did not expect an answer as I have never physically heard them before, but their complete silence crushes my soul. Bastien’s hand grips my shoulders and pulls me away. I allow him to draw me to him but I can’t look away.
Strong arms wrap about me, holding me as I begin to sob. The pain in my leg can no longer compare to the ache within my soul. “He was my friend,” I cry.
Bastien rests his head atop of mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “but he’s not who you think he is.”
I wrench away from him, anger rising up within me. “How dare you,” I growl, pointing at Hyde. “He is dead because of you, and now you want to destroy his memory too.”
A part of my heart breaks when I see how crushed Bastien is by my accusation. I want to reach out to him, to comfort him and tell him how relieved I am that he is alive, but I can’t. Not yet. The pain of this loss is far too great.
Bastien hangs his head. I can see him trembling and feel his pain. When he finally looks up at me I am astounded by the depth of his despair. “Did he ever tell you what his last name was?”
I blink, confused. “No. I only ever knew him as Hyde. What does that have to do with it?”
Bastien leans forward, cupping my face in his hands. “His given name was Duturi.”
TWENTY-SIX
I stare down at Hyde’s body, knowing that he has already begun to grow cool. I had refused to let Bastien help me up, even as men poured into the base from the ground above. He rose when it became obvious that I wasn’t ready to leave, allowing me time to grieve, to say goodbye.
Reaching out my hand, I brush my fingers along the back of Hyde’s hand and then turn it over. His palms are calloused, his fingers heavily so. The definition along his abdomen and arms spoke of years of hard manual labor, of fighting, training and who knows what else. I close my eyes to the tears that fall.
How could he have betrayed me so completely? Hyde was my friend...at least I thought he was. How could I not have known it was all a trap?
Him being left behind back at Drach’s compound was a brilliant ploy to draw me in, but surely he couldn’t have known that I would come for him. I had no reason to apart from general human decency. Even still it was a huge risk to take.
He had been terrified on that roof, with flames licking at his boots…wasn’t he? Was it all really a lie? Could someone give so much of themselves for nearly two full months all for the sake of greed?
I draw my hand back from his and gently lift a thick band of hair from his forehead, setting it aside so that I can see into his eyes. I have always prided myself at being able to read a person but maybe, just maybe this time was different.
I was so desperate to have someone take care of me and he slipped right in and gave me exactly what I needed most. I was a fool.
Turning away from Hyde, I feel sickened by my actions. I should never have been so careless. All of this, this place, being on the ship together, this masterful story of noble freedom fighters was all a ruse and I fell for it.
Hyde warned me about the Duturi. I guess in some off way he was really just trying to warn me against himself.
I can hear numerous voices in the hall beyond but make no move to join them. Bastien is out there, waiting for me, but I can’t bring myself to go to him. I hang my head, knowing that deep down I really thought he was dead. How can I face him now, knowing that I gave up hope of ever seeing him again? What will he think of me when he discovers how close I came to giving up?
“Psst.”
My head whips around and I catch movement just in the shadows near the medicine cabinet. It has been ransacked. All supplies have been confiscated for the good of the group. “Who’s there?”
“Reyes,” the voice calls again. I squint against the dim lighting to see him but can only just make out the golden hue of his hair.
He pokes his head out to look at me and then ducks back in. “You shouldn’t be here. They will find you,” I warn. Any moment Bastien will return. I fear that when Reyes is discovered he will be tied up with the others as prisoners. I’ve heard the men beyond my room discussing what to do with them. It doesn’t sound good.
“I needed to tell you something. There is a room down the third--” he cuts off with a howl as a green laser blast temporarily blinds me. Reyes’ mouth goes slack as he tumbles to the floor, his spine arched, his arms pinned tightly to his sides as he spasms. A darkened figure approaches, kneeling beside him.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe now.” I suck in a breath when I spy a thick lock of fire-red hair trailing down from the dark helmet covering the figure’s head.
“Callisto?” I gasp.
With a deep chuckle, Callisto pulls the covering off and tucks the helmet into her side, her hip jutted out. “Nice to see you again too.”
I blow out a breath, raising a hand to rub my temples. “Man, you people sure get around.”
She chuckles and kicks at Reyes, shoving him onto his side. His fingers curl inward into claws, his eyes wide with pain as he continues to twitch. I look away from him. “Bet you didn’t see that one coming, huh?”
“Can’t say that I did,” I admit
.
She steps toward me, holsters her gun and holds out her hand. I glance back at Hyde, hesitating. “Don’t mourn for the dead, Illyria. Especially those who are traitors.”
I bite my lip but nod, knowing that whatever reason Hyde had to trick me, I will never be able to convince myself that he meant me harm. No. He cared for me...in his own way. I am sure of it, but even bad people have feelings.
Grasping her hand, I grunt as she hefts me onto my foot. I wobble, sorely off balance but she places a hand beneath my arm and lets me rest against her. “You’ve gained a few pounds since we last met. Motherhood looks good on you.”
I snort and motion for her to grab my walking stick. No matter what it costs me, I am determined to face Bastien and his new friends on my own terms. Callisto’s grip is firm until I stabilize and then she takes up the rear behind me, present in case I need her.
I glance down at Reyes as I pass and feel a pang of regret filter through me. “What will happen to him?”
“What happens to all turncoats.”
I get the distinct feeling from the sharp edge to her voice that he’s not about to just get a slap on the wrist and be thrown into a cell to live out his days. I look down into his face and a single tear slips from my eyes. I’m sorry, I pray silently then turn my gaze forward and leave him behind.
The corridor is far brighter than I have ever seen it. The glow of dozens of laser guns brightens the space. From time to time I am forced to lean against the wall for a moment to catch my breath but each time I shake off Callisto’s offer for help. I know that I am drawing near to the main room. Although I am afraid to see what I might find, curiosity pushes me beyond the pain.
The instant I reach the final bend, Bastien glances up and rushes forward. He casts a livid glare at Callisto before wrapping his arm around my back. “I got it,” I protest but he doesn’t listen. Instead he grips me tighter, refusing to give in.
A small group of men part before me, allowing me passage through. My throat clenches when I see Donan, Natasha and Vondran kneeling on the floor, their hands laced behind their heads. A deep gash runs down Natasha’s temple. She looks as if she took the butt of a gun before she went down. Donan and Vondran look bruised and beaten but still conscious. I’m beginning to doubt that this is a good thing.
Bastien kicks at the foot of a soldier before him. The young man glances back over his shoulder and pales when he sees me and then rushes to get out of our way. “The chair,” Bastien growls, waiting impatiently for the soldier to dart toward the table and bring back a seat for me.
Despite my desire to remain emotionally indifferent to this coup, I find myself near tears as I stare at my three former companions. None of them I was overly fond of, Natasha least of all, but they took me in when I needed help. Like with Hyde and Reyes, I struggle to understand their motives.
A tall dark skinned man steps forward into view. A wide crimson cloth is tied about his forehead. A full beard, bushy yet trimmed recently, makes his face seem fatter than what I suspect it really is. His eyes are black and his teeth startlingly white against his dark skin. His hair is cropped short, revealing a wide scar from temple to his throat. One eye seems to be lazier than the other and I wonder if this was a birth defect or effect of an earlier wound.
All eyes are on him, including mine. When he speaks I am not surprised to hear a deep resounding voice come forth. “We have prisoners, men.” He turns in a wide circle, staring at each one in turn. “You know our laws. None are left alive.”
Donan’s jaw flinches but he gives no other hint of fear. Vondran on the other hand reeks of it. It floods off him in nearly visible waves. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t have a wet stain running down his pant leg soon.
I stare at Natasha, amazed at her stony expression. For a girl so young I would have expected terror, pleading, but there is none. Nothing save for grim resignation. I admire that. In this moment, when all hope seems to have been lost she does not let fate steal her conviction. There will be great honor in her death.
The black man turns to look at me. Though his expression gives nothing away I suspect a hint of a smile. That smile makes me shiver with apprehension. “My name is Hendrix,” he announces to the group. “By the power given my by the Assassin's creed I hereby sentence these men to death.”
Assassin? As in the Aegon Assassin Hyde claimed to be?
I watch as Donan’s face changes at the man’s words. He looks livid as he spits at Hendrix’s feet. “Traitor!” he bellows. “You are not one of--”
His heads twists around so suddenly I hardly have time to grasp that fact that Hendrix closed the two foot gap separating them and snapped his neck. Donan falls to the floor before me with a thud that reverberates through my thoughts. I close my eyes, turning my face away.
I can hear Vondran’s muffled protests as Hendrix approaches, unable to speak around the cloth that has been shoved in his mouth. “You need to watch this,” Bastien whispers into my ear, bent low with his hand upon the back of my chair.
“Why?”
“Because you need to learn their ways. They are brutal but just.”
“Just?” I hiss, staring at him in disbelief. “How is this justice? No trial? No judge to pass a sentence. This is not justice. This is murder.”
“No.” I cry out at Hendrix’s booming voice beside me. I glance up at him, realizing just how tall he is. He towers over me, at least a full foot taller than I am. “I am the judge here. It is my right. We do not take prisoners. We have no way to house them, care for them. Nor do we wish to take on such a burden.”
He dips down beside me, his hollow eyes meeting me at eye level. “I am not a murderer. I am a peace keeper.”
I bite back my retort at the pressure Bastien applies to my shoulder. Tears well in my eyes but I do not speak. He stares at me for another moment before nodding once and then rises before me.
With a reflex far too swift to be human, Hendrix pulls his gun and a red laser slams into Vondran’s chest. He is blasted back off his knees, his skull cracking as he smashes into the cave wall. He slides to the ground leaving a wide crimson smear on the wall.
Hendrix approaches Natasha and I begin to tremble. No. He can’t possibly be willing to kill her in cold blood! She is only a girl!
With steady, sure steps, Hendrix walks in a wide circle about the girl. She holds her head high, her gaze focused on the wall before her. Not on the men cat calling around her or the gun still poised in his hand. To those she remains bravely indifferent.
“You can’t do this,” I protest, shoving off Bastien’s restraining hand. I try to lift myself off the chair but my arms quiver and I fall back. Bastien grabs my chair, holding it firm so that I don’t topple backward. Panting, I glance up to see Hendrix watching me.
“You feel strongly about the girl?”
I look to Natasha, surprised to see that she has turned her gaze toward me. I see no fear. No pleading. Her resignation has melded into something else...into curiosity.
“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat. “I care for her.”
“Interesting,” Hendrix muses, tapping his laser gun against his leg. “She does not seem to care much for you.”
I tilt my head side to side, shrugging my shoulders. “That does not matter. She is one of my people. My concern for their wellbeing extends to her as well.”
Rubbing the edge of his beard with the butt of his gun, Hendrix seems to think over my words. “And if I were to put a gun in her hand and demand that she take your life to save her own, which do you think she would choose?”
Bastien stiffens beside me. I can feel his rising anger but he holds it in check for now. I swallow, feeling as if my throat will close completely on me at any moment. “I do not know. That would be for her to choose.”
“Indeed.” Hendrix glances down at Natasha, now finally positioned in front of her. “It’s a shame we won’t have a chance to find out today.”
My eyes narrow at the not so subtle messag
e behind his words. I press my lips into thin lines, refusing to accept his bait. Instead, I wait and watch.
Natasha’s steady gaze falters for a split second but it is enough for me to note her surprise at my comment. Then Hendrix steps between us and she is lost to me. He bends over her, appearing to speak in her ear.
I crane my neck to see. The sound of the laser gun charging sends a ripple of fear coursing through me. I’m sorry, I whisper, lowering my gaze. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to save you.
I clench my eyes shut at the sound of the blast. The sound of Natasha’s manacles hitting the floor wrenches a cry from my lips. Bastien wraps me in his arms, holding me as the tears come.
Now everyone is dead.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I swirl my spoon around the rim of my bowl, not the least bit interested in its contents. The smell is getting me. Death has a funny way of making you lose your appetite.
Bastien refused to let me see the bodies as they were removed and taken outside to the pyres. He tried to shield me from the horrors, but it was too late. Blood has been shed and much of it rests on my hands. These people, whether friend or foe, fell today because of me. Because of my children.
I place a hand upon my belly, feeling my babies stir. They are cramped, kicking and punching to claim more space. I wince at a swift jab to my kidneys.
“Feisty ones, aren’t they?” Bastien mutters, casting a glance over at me. His gaze takes in my full bowl of mush. He said it was some sort of cooked grain but it looks and tastes like slop fit to be eaten only by a pig. I can’t stand the feel of it on my tongue. It is far too cold and slimy.
“They seem to have a mind of their own,” I smile, feeling wearied to the bone. The trek from my room to the main hall really took it out of me, but I’m glad I made that call. I needed these strangers to know that I am not weak. I lean in as close as my belly will allow. “Why are you with these people?”
His brow furrows as he lowers his knife. It is a long serrated blade which he uses to peel the flesh from a bright yellow fruit. Juices run down his fingers, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he lowers his hands to look at me. “They saved my life, Illyria. They have weapons, food and shelter. They also have the numbers that we need.”
