She favoured the young Captain, with a spirited leer, “yes I have been coped up in that damn transport for nearly two weeks, and I wish to have a change of scenery. Even if it is merely the inside of this horrendous prison, at least it will be new walls to look upon.” She paused and shifted her head, her tone became sharper, and teasing. “Are you worried for my safety captain, I thought your men are the best our system and my father has to offer can you not guarantee my safety?”
“Of course I can my lady” Talius retorted quickly, as his face became flushed, “it is just a complex like this is no place for a member of the royal court, and well….”
“Spit it out captain.” She toyed with him once again.
“A lady of your beauty,” Talius answered, his voice and body language suddenly so uncomfortable.
She always found it amusing, when burly, powerful, military men, who seemed so able to comport themselves upon the battlefield were so uncertain when it came to how to simply talk to a woman.
“Thank you captain, but I can assure you that nothing I will see in here could possibly shock me.” Her tone was dismissive and perhaps harsher than she had intended, she had known Talius since they were both children, and if she was honest with herself, she liked him, purely platonically, yet today her mood was gloomy, and her own mind troubled.
“Really Kiera,” Claudius admonished her as he had done all of her life, as he entered the troop hold, his commanding voice causing Talius to visible sit back.
“Yes Claudius, I know you think of me as if I were still ten, but I have experienced much more than you or my Father think.” Kiera responded tersely, her dark eyes coming to bare on her protector and teacher, and a true servant of the land.
Claudius held the rank of Knight Marshal, the highest rank one without royal blood, or more bluntly a commoner, could attain. It was said amongst the members of the court that he had saved her Father’s life twice, the second leaving him with the two ugly, parallel, scars which ran down the left side of his face. The jagged edges of which, were the result of the poison tipped blade, the assassin had used in the attack.
He had the look of a warrior that had been put out to pasture, his slight paunch more pronounced these days, his once brown hair now more grey, yet his eyes still burnt with the fire of youth, and his hand always rested on the hilt of his sword. He had the look of a caged animal that although domesticated, could at any minute revert to the true, predator he had always been.
Claudius allowed a thin smile to crease, his already slightly wrinkled and sun kissed skin, which now had the look of worn leather. “You would be surprised my lady, by what your Father and I know.” He paused and seemed lost within his own World for a moment, before he continued. “You are still so young my lady, only twenty five this year, you have so much still to learn about this universe and about yourself.” Before Claudius could finish, the shuttle abruptly jolted as it touched down on the runway.
“We’re down.” The pilot’s voice burst forth again.
“You can lecture me later Claudius, for now we have a prisoner to pick up, don’t we, or interrogate or whatever it is that Father has sent us all this way to accomplish.”
As Kiera tried to get up, Claudius held a giant paw out and laid it gently on her shoulder, any other man that had touched her would have been certain, to spend at least a month within the dungeons. “Be still child,” He whispered. “Your Father did not give this mission to us, he gave it me, you are here simply so that you can observe.” He drew in a small, mouthful of the reprocessed oxygen, “One day Kiera, you will rule your Fathers land and you must be ready for all that entails.”
She shot him an impudent smirk, the same one she used to give her teachers, “I know everything I need to, about our land and what being leader entails. You know this better than anyone, as you were the one that taught it to me, yet you know as well as my Father, that is not the life that I want to lead.”
Claudius face darkened, “You know nothing about what, your Father has done or what being a leader entails.” He spat, his tone visceral and tinged with a rage, she had not felt before. “You are too young to understand what is really at stake here, all that so many are risking so that you can live in a better World. You sit there and say that, this is not the life that you want to lead, yet you were borne for this, it runs within your veins.”
Kiera felt her own ire rise, no one except her father had ever spoken to her like this. “You would speak to me in that tone, Knight Marshall.” She made sure to use his title rather than name, to remind him of her position.
Claudius allowed his roguish beam to return, “I would speak to you, my lady, in any way that I see fit, as my position requires, I am to not only protect the royal family but the very continuation of our land.”
“And what exactly do you think threatens our land?” she blurted out, “Do you think the Separatists will suddenly appear at our doors?”
Claudius, swung his face so close, she could feel his warm breathe upon her skin and lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. “There is more to fear in this universe than the Separatists, my lady, much more.”
Kiera tried to contain the awkward flash of feeling and the shiver that rose up her spine, “That may well be Knight Marshall.” As she spoke she pushed Claudius back and stood up, “However that is all for another day, for now, I require a change of scenery and perhaps a change to this filtered air.”
With that she pushed past the man who since her birth, had been with her and strode regally to the rear of the vessel, her head still spinning. She had heard the rumours, mostly from the servants about the deep divisions that had begun to materialize within the Empire. Between the Conclave and the royal families, and the more powerful elements within the Core Worlds. Yet up until now she had thought them the usual, simple stirrings and ramblings of the lower cast. There was always talk, of civil war and problems with terrorists.
She glanced back and saw the troubled expression on the man that had basically raised her, the closest thing she had to an actual Father, which was perhaps too cruel to her biological Father, yet the Baron hadn’t really been a presence in her life. He had been always too busy with court, or Empire business, or one of his many whores. She had seen Claudius worried before but never like this, something was coming and for the first time in her life she felt dread rip through her stomach. Cracks were beginning to appear, in her opulent and privileged world and she didn’t like it at all.
“Captain,” Claudius Valen said beckoning Talius to his side.
“Yes knight marshal,” Talius replied, with a clean crisp salute.
Claudius smirked, the Military with all their pomp and ceremony, they really could never get enough of it. “That’s not necessary Captain.” He said curtly, not returning the salute, “be on the lookout, I have a bad feeling about this trip. There are many dangers that could befall us before we have completed this mission, many who would like to see us fail and to see the Baron’s only heir disappear.”
Talius shook his head, “But Knight Marshall, this is an Empire facility, how can we be in any danger here?”
“I do not have time to explain events to you Captain,” his voice was terse. “You will do as I say.”
Talius nodded politely, “Yes knight marshal.” Before he bowed and marched away to join the rest of the honour guard, they may have all been dressed in the same absurd, gaudy and ornate chainmail. They may look like some kind of absurd honour guard a Royal house might employ to show off to visiting guests, or dignitaries, yet these men were killers and seemed as if at the drop of a hat they were prepared for combat.
Then he saw Kiera, a girl he thought of more as a daughter than the heir to the land that he had served since birth. Even now he could not see the full, beautiful woman she had blossomed into, to him she would always be the little girl that he had protected, and read stories to. A child he had loved as he did her mother. He felt a pang of anger and guilt in his gut, like a poker, fresh from the fir
e, he shouldn’t have been so hard on her. It had been his own fears and worries, his own remorse, and clouded mind that had caused it. He had pleaded with the Baron, for her to remain behind in the relative safety of the castle, yet the old monster would not be moved, he believed his daughter was safer off world, and away from his perversions and dealings.
Almost unconsciously, he began to run his hand over the coarse scar tissue on his cheek, it still felt like sand paper, even after all these years. A wave of images began to surge over his mind and once again he was back on that day, that everything changed.
He could still feel the sun against his bare skin, the smell of thousands of exotic spices, exciting his senses and of course the beautiful women in their summer dresses. The Baroness, her caramel hair let down, gleaming like the sun, the way she had smiled at him and the way the contours of her body had looked within the figure-hugging leather dress.
The festival of the sun had been in full swing, the whole system was in a state of celebration as the baroness had given birth to a daughter, and the Baron had pronounced a three-day public holiday to honour it.
Claudius could behold once again the royal palace, crammed full of strangers, visiting royalty and nobles from all over the system. Again the fragrant, smell of roasting animals had filled the banquet hall and how sweet the wine had tasted, the best he had ever savoured in his life. He had been happy, truth be told, he had probably drunk too much, yet he was not inebriated even then he was the Baron’s advisor, his protector as his own father before him had been to the Barons father, and back as far as the founding of the first colony. It was an honour bound duty, passed down through the generations.
It was then he had spotted her, just at the edge of his peripheral vision, a young woman dressed in a blue, tight, silk dress. It wasn’t her obvious beauty that drew his attention though, it had been the way she strode, unlike any others at the celebrations she was cautious, and purposeful. Claudius had observed her as she slide majestically across the vast chamber, before she had abruptly disappeared through a serving door and into the kitchen. That was the moment at which the part of his brain that was always on alert had triggered the alarm and he had begun to worry.
He had pushed his way across the crowded room and burst into the scullery, already the dullness in his senses caused by the drink was beginning to lift, as his adrenaline kicked in. Through the chaos of hundreds of servants carrying, immense silver trays laden with steaming food and drinks, he had caught sight of the women as she vanished through another door. He had followed her and found himself in a dimly lit corridor.
He set off running through the labyrinth of corridors used mainly by the maids of the royal household. Until finally he had come to the stairs used to gain access to the Baron’s chambers, it was there he had found the first two bodies, throats slit and hands still on the hilts of their swords. The wounds were too clean, too perfect, for this to be a simple robbery or attack, whoever this woman was she was a professional. Already a palpable terror had infiltrated his spirit, its tendrils spreading through his entire body.
Within his mind he activated the neural implant and in an instance, the view from thousands of security cameras and drones was projected into his brain. Synapses flared, he could see that the Baron and Baroness were safe, surrounded by family and their personal guard and the main entrances to the palace had not been compromised. It was then he caught sight of the woman, moving towards the nursery and instantly he knew the target.
“Alert one, Alert one, we have an intruder within the main building, all security staff we are on a lockdown, code blue. I repeat code blue, all personnel to the nursery.” He had whispered into the implant on his vocal cords.
The reply was sleepy and languid, “Is this a drill?”
“This is not a drill, code blue NOW!” he had screamed, the sound of which was amplified by the vocal transmitter.
He didn’t listen for a reply, instead he set off up the stairs. His heart was thundering so fast within his ribcage he thought it might actually explode, and for the first time in his short life, a sheer, and very ancient terror overcame him.
Through his implant, he could see the palaces security measures taking over, the doors and windows were sealed, he could see the Baron and Baroness being literally, hoisted up, and carried away to the secure room by their personal security, the rotund, Baron’s face flushed a bright cherry.
He didn’t remember drawing forth the two curved, ceremonial blades, the same ones passed down through his family since the first Knight Marshall had stood this very post. The cold and rough steel, felt familiar, and comforting in his hands. As he crested the top of the staircase, he could see four more bodies lay flaccidly upon the ground, pools of gleaming scarlet was spreading over the tiled floor.
He was sprinting now, faster than he had ever run before, lactic acid built up in his muscles and his lungs were aflame. Ahead of him he could see the door to the royal nursery ajar, the corpse of a bodyguard, lay in front of it, his face set in a grotesque visage of agony, his hands still gripping his throat, as the last of his arterial blood pumped out.
As Claudius burst through the door and into the nursery. He saw the assassin pull a small, intricate dagger from a royal nanny, letting the young girl fall limply to the ground, a red foam gushing from her mouth.
“Stop!” Claudius shouted, as the assassin danced gracefully towards the ornate crib where Kiera lay sleeping.
The assassin swung round, her face streaked in the claret and gore of her victims, yet it was not the face of a monster that met him, but a young woman, probably little older than him. Although her features were not striking, she possessed an undoubted splendour, which struck him.
“You will never get out of this palace alive, you must know that?” Claudius rasped, trying desperately to control his inhalation and relax his body, as he edged closer to the assassin.
The woman had shifted her gaze to him, her eyes glazed over and inflamed, “it will not matter she must die,” she had hissed, and he could see her tongue had been slit down the middle.
“I will not allow it.” Claudius responded angrily, his neural implant alerted him that support troops were on the way, yet for now, he would be on his own.
“You cannot stop me, you cannot stop any of what is to come, you’re weak and so is your race. The time of man is coming to an end and you will be able to watch the start of it now. Bring out your dead, because the storm is coming and when it has passed nothing will be left.”
“What do you mean?” Claudius asked, trying to keep the attention of the assassin on him so that he could drift closer to her, he didn’t care about her babbling, all he cared about was trying to put himself between the crazed woman and Kiera.
The assassin had stuck her forked tongue out, almost seductively. “The final tempest is coming Claudius and when it has passed nothing will live, only the darkness will remain.”
“How do you know my name?” He asked pointedly.
“We know everything about you and this corrupt royal family about the Baron you serve and his debauchery, and sickness.”
“I serve the family and this land, not just one man,” Claudius began as he tried to sneak closer.
“What do you think your Father would say, if he heard you say that, do you think he would be proud, or do you think he wanted something more for you, than to be a slave to this decrepit place, to kneel before a man who is not worth a tenth of what you are?”
“My father put service and duty before anything,”
Before he could finish the assassin, spat, “Do you think that is why he was so miserable, do you think that is what really killed him, the shame of a life wasted in service to these petty people.” She sneered and even now the sight of it freezes his soul, so full of fury, and vitriol, then she leapt towards the crib.
Claudius though, was fast and young, his reactions so acute after a lifetime of training, his muscle memory, so perfect, his body would react without even his mind ne
eding to send a command. He struck out with his daggers, slicing the assassins arm deeply.
She let an a low animalistic grunt and dropped her own weapon, yet in a single fluid motion she drew forth another blade with her uninjured hand and as she landed rolled, and came up near the crib. He leapt at her hoping to press the attack, he knew all he had to do was buy time for his support to reach him. For minutes their blades clashed, the clanging of steel upon steel echoed through the chamber and he could see sparks flying of the serrated edges.
Then with an almost super human movement, the assassin unexpectedly bounded up into the air, twisting her body round serenely, she slashed out, her limbs moving too fast for even him to avoid fully. If his reactions had been a millisecond slower, then he would have been dead, instead she left two deep, parallel cuts on the left side of his face.
He staggered back, fluid streaming down his face, his vision blurred from some sort of poison held within the blade itself. He could feel a familiar tingle in his hands and feet, in his heart, his combat implant, pumped vast quantities of chemicals into his system, to counteract the toxins, and that is what kept him alive and fighting.
It was now the assassins turn to press the advantage, she let out a haunting battle cry, that made his blood run cold and she strode towards him. He heard her approach and instinctively dropped the ceremonial blades onto the thickly carpeted floor and nimbly reached behind his back, and took hold of the grip of his auto-pistol. In a single motion, he drew forth the weapon and depressed his finger on the trigger. The gun roared in his hand, but it no longer mattered.
Through the mist he watched in almost slow motion, as the superheated rounds exploded from the barrel of his weapon. As they flew across the room they separated creating a cloud of red-hot shrapnel that ripped and clawed into the approaching assassin. Her body jerked in impossible angles, like some kind of possessed marionette and then flew back into the wall. Blood that is what he remembers now, there had been so much and the sound of Kiera crying; the anguished wails that sometimes still woke him up in the dead of night. They had found him unconscious minutes later the baby cradled in his limp arms.
The Last Foxhole (The Forgotten War Saga Book 1) Page 16
