The Traitor's Bride: A sci fi romance (Keepers of Xereill Book 1)

by Alix Nichols

  When she came back to herself, she whispered his name.

  “Yes, sweet pea.”

  There was so much she wanted to say to him!

  But she couldn’t find the right words to describe the intensity of how she felt in her heart and in her body after such a short acquaintance. It would’ve sounded pathetic and shallow to confess that she knew she’d never feel like this about anyone. She’d come across like a drama queen if she told him she’d happily agree to spend the rest of her life paralyzed like Mayka if she could have a year with him…

  “I love you,” she said.

  His chest heaved. “That’s… unfortunate. My advice is to backtrack and fall in love with someone more dependable. Someone less likely to lose his head, literally speaking. Young Geru, maybe?”

  She half giggled half sobbed. “Much too late for that, I’m afraid.”

  “Pity. Well then, if it’s any consolation”—his gaze grew solemn—“I love you, too, sweet pea. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before.”

  Their bodies still joined, she bent down and kissed his lips, his bearded chin, his jaw, his nose, his eyes. She traced his features with her fingertips, smelled his skin, and drank his face in with her eyes.

  It was as if she wanted that face branded into her heart, forever, so that she could always see and feel him, whether he was with her or far away across the galaxy. Or even farther away in the Eternal Garden.

  A long while later when they lay on the pallet beside each other with their bodies entwined in a snug embrace, Areg’s commlet emitted an unusual sound.

  He reached over and picked it up. “Dammit!”

  The device had turned completely off.

  28

  They set out to Fort Crog shortly after two.

  The commlet still showed no sign of life, despite having spent all morning in bright sunlight.

  “We don’t really need it,” Areg had said to Etana before they left. “Yaggar knows where we’re headed. He has the coordinates. He’ll be there.”

  She’d given him a sardonic smile. “Of course. What can possibly go wrong?”

  A few minutes later, the device blinked and woke up, to Etana’s delight.

  At five to three, they reached the fort.

  “My detachment was stationed there for almost a month during the war,” Areg said, when they stopped to take the imposing building in. “I know it inside out.”

  The dark-gray stone stronghold had been bombed by the Teteum Army, but its thick walls had resisted. Well, most of them. The northern wall was blackened by fire from thermal bombs, and part of the front face and a tower had crumbled, but the fort still stood.

  They hurried up the main staircase to the top.

  “This is Sutor Voqras, first-class hive cyborg.” a harsh, amplified voice called from outside the thick walls.

  Etana halted, panic blanching her face. They still had another floor left to climb.

  Areg refused to give in to fear. He had no idea who Sutor Voqras was and how in hell that hive cyborg had found him. But there was still a chance Yaggar and his lieutenant were already on the top floor of the fort, or about to fly in. It was a chance worth taking.

  He tugged at Etana’s hand. “We have to keep going.”

  The cyborg repeated his announcement twice more, his voice reverberating through the fort’s stairwell.

  Areg and Etana reached the top floor and burst into a windowless room. What it offered was much better than windows—a dozen well-angled embrasures around its perimeter. This room had served his detachment well during the war. He hoped it would do him one last service.

  Areg checked his blaster—a few dozen rounds left.

  Enough to keep Voqras and whoever there was with him at a distance for a while.

  He switched the safety off, unfolded the stock and stuck the barrel through the embrasure.

  Yaggar had better turn up now.

  “Areg Sebi.” Voqras’s voice was a little more distant, likely coming from the other side of the fort. “You are surrounded. All ground exits are blocked by the police. We have three heavily armed cyborgs in the air. Show yourself if you want to spare Etana Tidryn’s life.”

  It was Areg’s turn to flinch. They knew Etana was with him. How?

  He peered through the scope. At least twenty cops had encircled the base of the fort. They must’ve arrived a few seconds ago in the motorized van parked near the main entrance, its doors flung open. In the distance, a large mounted unit was racing toward the tower.

  Up in the air, a cyborg in black armor hovered. His eyes seemed to be equipped with targeting implants, judging by the manner in which he swept the area. Both of his arms were extended with retractable guns. His fingers stroked the triggers.

  “Sebi! Go to a window where we can shoot at you!” Voqras bellowed. “It’s your best option. No arrest, no torture, no beheadings. Do it now, and no one else dies today. Etana will leave here alive—and free.”

  He turned to her, an infinite sadness in his eyes.

  She shook her head once, twice, then began to say, “no, no, no, no,” as if the word could ward off the inevitable. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back, fighting to calm her breathing.

  Areg guessed she was making a last-ditch attempt to freeze the world. Except it wasn’t working.

  “I won’t make that offer again, Sebi,” Voqras yelled. “You have three minutes to get to a window. Failing that, we storm the fort.”

  Just as Areg pulled his blaster out of the embrasure, his commlet buzzed.

  It was Yaggar. He and Thraton were closing in. They’d spotted three hive cyborgs around the fort and needed help flying in undetected.

  Between Areg’s vantage point and theirs, they identified the best entry—through a south-facing window, which none of the hive cyborgs seemed to be watching.

  A moment later, Yaggar and Thraton ran into the embrasure room.

  Both of them wore helmets with reinforced black visors covering most of their face but leaving their mouths and chins exposed. Their clothing had white and gray camouflage patterns, and was no doubt reinforced as well. Colonel Yaggar opened his big backpack. Lieutenant Thraton pushed her blaster’s barrel into an embrasure across from Areg’s.

  Yaggar pressed a finger to his lips. They listened.

  In the eerie quiet of the building, a dull sound of steps—several men’s steps—became audible. The cops had started the attack, in breach of Voqras’s three-minute offer. Or, as part of his plan.

  “How well do you know this building?” Yaggar asked. “Any escape routes?”

  “There’s a tunnel my men dug during the war,” Areg said.

  “Who knows about it?”

  “The military command. Possibly other people.” Areg watched Etana inch toward an embrasure and peep out. “I can’t be sure.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “To the woodland a mile away. I hope it’s still accessible…” Areg yanked Etana away from the opening. “And that no one’s waiting at the other end.”

  “The alternative is exiting through a window.” Yaggar sucked on his teeth. “Too risky with three hive cyborgs right outside. I’d rather deal with the cops in the staircase.”

  “Understood.”

  Thraton moved to the door, jerking her chin at Etana and Areg. “Stay behind me.”

  Yaggar closed his backpack again.

  Voqras’s steely voice carried from outside. “Your time’s up, Sebi! We’re going in.”

  The next ten minutes were a rush of running, shooting, kicking, ducking when they passed a window, and making sure he never let go of Etana’s hand. They descended the narrow staircase, with Thraton first, then Areg with his arm around Etana, and Yaggar behind them, the enforcers’ clothing impervious to the fire coming from the cops or the hive cyborgs.

  On the second floor, a cyborg appeared in front of Thraton out of nowhere. He had the same black uniform as the hovering cyborg Areg had spied outside. He co
uld’ve shot and killed her at such close range, but he wavered. For the briefest moment, the two looked each other in the eyes. Then Thraton hit him on the neck—the least protected spot between his helmet and vest—with one powerful, precise blow.

  The hive cyborg collapsed, knocked unconscious.

  Less than a minute later, Areg pushed a small door to what looked like a dead-end utility room, and then they were in the tunnel.

  They ran without stopping to catch their breath. Etana wheezed and went red in the face with the effort, but she kept up.

  When the opening of the tunnel came into view, Yaggar reopened his backpack.

  “He’s your size.” He glanced at Areg, shaking charred bones out of it. “Found him in a Silver Path mortuary. Should keep them off your tracks.”

  The exit looked clear.

  Thraton went out first—and received a blast to her chest that projected her against the wall. The shooter was in the bushes right in front of the tunnel’s exit.

  Areg pushed Etana down to the ground, shielding her with his body.

  Recovering from the shock, Thraton dropped on one knee and launched a round, scorching the shrubbery. There was a second shooter on their left, in the trees, and a third one on the right, their fire high and wide.

  Yaggar lifted his gun, sending plasma in the direction of one of the attackers.

  Cocking his blaster, Areg took aim and squeezed off a clean shot. A cop dropped dead next to a tree.

  Orange bolts zapped in the afternoon sun turning the air around them to a plasma. Vegetation went up in flames. Smoke spread, making it hard to see or breathe. Areg heard a scream. Then all went quiet.

  Making sure Etana was unscathed, Areg crawled out. Colonel Yaggar ran to his lieutenant. She staggered, blood gushing from the gaping hole that had been her jaw and throat.

  Yaggar caught her before she hit the ground. “Unie! Noooo!”

  He growled low in his throat, then closed her eyes and yanked off her ouroboros.

  “May you find peace in Aheya’s Garden,” he whispered, fingered the inside of her vest’s collar, and stepped back.

  Lieutenant Thraton’s armor blazed, cremating her body within seconds.

  “It’s the protocol for covert interventions,” Yaggar said in a choked voice.

  Then he grabbed Etana’s arm and pulled her to him.

  She tried to break free. “I won’t go without Areg.”

  “You have to, sweet pea,” Areg held her while the colonel snapped sturdy belts around her chest and hips, attaching her to him. “You must survive for me.”

  The thump, thump, thump of footsteps and the sound of branches cracking alerted them three or four men were running through the woods and getting closer by the second. More would soon follow.

  Areg glanced at Yaggar who was spreading his wings. “I’ll cover you.”

  “It was an honor,” the colonel said.

  “Areg, run!” Etana yelled at him, her eyes wide.

  The cyborg soared high into the sky.

  “I’m done running,” Areg said.

  He pointed his blaster toward the footsteps and steadied his aim for a final fight.

  Someone shot him.

  Areg staggered, pain jolting through his body. As he hit the forest floor, more shots zipped around him… but not at him.

  Sinking into a borderline state in which he could no longer tell reality from hallucination, he lay prone on the ground and listened. Blasts hissed through the air, people cried out in surprise, screamed and whimpered in agony.

  Then everything was quiet.

  Someone loomed over him, but as Areg struggled to hold onto consciousness, he could only make out that it was a robust man wearing a camouflage jacket and a helmet.

  The man crouched, heaved Areg up and draped him over his shoulders. As he set off through the woods, Areg’s body throbbed with pain. Gradually, the jolts subsided.

  And then he blacked out.

  << <> >>

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  Will Areg survive? Can he and Etana have a chance at happiness together?

  And what’s in store for Nyssa, locked away in Jancel Heidd’s residence?

  You’ll find answers to these questions in The Commander’s Captive, Book 2 in the Keepers of Xereill saga.

  Get it now!