by T. C. Edge
“Yes, um…twenty years, master,” says the Baron. “It took longer than we thought to develop the clones, and to master the process of accelerated growth…”
“Oh, don’t sound so worried, Reinhold. You took your time and did things right. I can’t ask of anything more.”
As he speaks, a rare shudder sounds from above, rippling down through the rocks. Knight’s eyes rise up, as a sprinkling of dust trickles down from the ceiling.
“Something I should know, Reinhold?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
Once again, the Baron answers with a nervous cadence to his voice.
“We are at war, master,” he says, gulping. “It was all necessary to get everything done…but things are all under control. The enemy army has attacked us along the coast, but they’re no match for us. The world is yours again...”
Knight takes in a long breath, a little smile sitting on his smug face. For him, twenty years must have gone past like the clipping of a finger. With his consciousness in stasis, the final day of the War of the Regions, just before his death, must seem like yesterday. As if he’s merely awoken from a long sleep, his memory only lacking the terrible recollection of his death.
Now, reborn and waking in a fresh body, the happenings of the last twenty years are irrelevant to him. Twenty years gone, passed by in the blink of an eye. I can barely get my head around it.
“I can only assume that Aeneas Stein and the Graves are now departed?” Knight asks.
“Yes, master,” says the Baron. “Many of those who rebelled against you are gone, barring those before you. And we can dispatch them now, if you wish?”
Knight shakes his head, and once more steps a little closer to us, still kneeling at his feet. His eyes settle on Cyra again, before sweeping across and inspecting me.
“You have your mother’s likeness, boy,” he says to me. “And her strength…I can feel it in you. You’re a powerful young man. Tell me, what is your name?”
“Theo,” I say sharply.
His face erupts into another budding smile.
“Ah…Theo! Isn’t that just wonderful. And I suppose Jackson Kane is your father?”
I don’t answer this time, but I don’t need to.
“Of course he is,” he says, laughing. He turns back to my mother. “I’m happy that you two ended up together, Cyra. Truly, I am.”
Standing to my left above me, I feel AK1 shift uncomfortably as he watches things unfold. The movement draws up Knight’s eyes, staring upon the mixed clone for the first time.
“Well…” he says, “with all that’s been going on, I must have missed you.”
“Master, this is…” starts the Baron.
“Oh, I know who it is,” cuts in Knight. “Such strength,” he whispers, looking upon the clone longingly. “I’ll look forward to getting inside your head…”
I see AK1’s eyes bulge a touch at Knight’s words, and notice the slightest heave of his chest. His nostrils flare ever so slightly, but he maintains his composure, just staring ahead as he’s been trained to do.
Knight looks at him for a little longer, admiring the job, before stepping back again.
“So, what shall we do with them all, master?” asks the Baron.
Knight enjoys another moment of silence, soaking it all up, his grey eyes growing colder and deeper as he considers things.
“Well,” he says, “seeing as Cyra took it upon herself to kill me, I suppose I’d better get some revenge.”
My heart thuds suddenly at his words.
“Go ahead,” says my mother defiantly. “You were always a coward…go ahead…”
“NO,” I shout, my voice breaking into the room.
“Don’t,” calls Drake, unable to hold back.
Knight revels in our pain, watching on with a smirk.
“No…no, perhaps you’re both right,” he says smoothly. “You know, I’d like to chat with Cyra a bit more, there’s so much we need to catch up on. And, well, I’d like to see her suffer a little more too…”
His hand rises up and points at the two Seekers standing to the right of Drake.
“You two…draw out your knives.”
The Seekers do as ordered, immediately pulling knives from their belts.
“Good. Now, Cyra, it’s time you watched your loved ones die…”
My mother’s eyes flare, and she shouts out. “NO…don’t! Kill me…”
“Oh no, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it.”
His fingers draw the two Seekers forwards. One moves behind Drake, the other behind me.
“NO, AUGUSTUS! PLEASE, NO….” shouts Cyra.
Her words only draw a larger smile up Knight’s face. I turn to my mother, whose eyes stream with tears, her head shaking and shivering.
“No…no…” she says weakly, staring right at me.
“On three,” says Knight, calling to the two Seekers, “cut right through their throats.”
“No…” sobs my mother.
“Not the boy!” calls Drake fiercely, drawing my mother’s eyes. “Kill me…but not the boy!”
I look at him, and then at her again, and then across at Knight as he says: “One…”
My eyes flow to the other side of the room, where Velia remains up against the wall, unconscious, Athena beside her.
“I love you dad,” cries Cyra. “I love you so much, Theo…”
She squints her eyes tight as Knight says: “Two…”
I shut my eyes, as the Seeker’s blade descends before my throat, my body calm, my focus pure.
I feel my entire form brimming with energy, with power, with a surge of strength. I hold myself firm, my concentration complete, and just before Knight calls out ‘three’, my own voice fills the room.
“NOW!”
In one movement, I rip apart the fake binds that wrap around my wrists, and AK1 surges forward, knocking the Seeker’s blade away from my throat.
We stand, side by side, staring upon our foes.
And together, we go to work…
29
Fallen Hero
Drake is the first to react to the change of dynamic in the room.
With the Seeker’s blade to his throat, he cocks his head back and leaps to his feet, knocking his executioner away. Immediately, I pull the extendable sword from my belt, click on the button once, and feel the blade come surging forth. As I do so, I glide right past my mother, swiping across the binds on his wrists, releasing her as I reach my grandfather and do the same.
It all happens in a flash, the two Seekers unable to react, still staring at AK1, their leader, in wonder. They stand back for a moment, not knowing what to do. And then, their new leader’s voice erupts in a roar.
“KILL THEM ALL!” shouts Knight.
What happens next is a blur, a burst of activity that sets the entire room into sudden motion.
Drake turns straight on the Seeker behind him, his body burning and brimming as he pours straight in. Cyra, too, her hands now free, appears reborn as she launches herself at the Seeker who was set to kill me, charging at him like a woman possessed.
Standing ahead of us all, Knight watches on with his eyes burning bright. He looks to his hands, and clenches his fists tight, and I feel a power I’ve never felt radiate out through his body. His mind itself, so old, so wise, has imbued his new form with a strength that perhaps not even AK1 can match.
I can see that he senses it too, his eyes widening as Knight smoulders and pulses with energy.
“Help your family,” growls AK1, looking on. “They cannot win alone.”
“And you?”
“I was born for war, Theo. Leave this to me.”
His words are cool and calm, no doubt in them now, no conflict bubbling inside him. He stares at Knight, who stares back at both of us, no smile on his face now. This is business, and nothing more.
Then, from nowhere, AK1 charges towards him, and Knights steps forwards too, and the two titans clash in a blast of power that spreads right through
the room. I watch for a second in awe at the speed of their limbs, slashing and clawing as they enter into a brutal ballet.
And across the room, the Baron’s voice booms once more, calling for AK1 to submit, to see sense. I look in his eyes, however, and see the voice having no impact now, only serving instead to intensify and enhance the crinkle of anger across his visage.
And then, as they continue to battle, I turn to my mother and grandfather, and add my own body to the fray.
In I go, my dagger still in hand, ready to swipe and cut at my enemy. Already, blades have been drawn up by the Seekers and my allies, glinting under the light, flashing with sparks as they clash against each other. I come straight forward, and fight the Seeker my mother faces, my own focus narrowing to him and him alone, my body brimming and overflowing with power and energy.
Across Cyra’s bodysuit, little white lines appear, places where the Seeker has attempted to cut her, the material doing enough to keep him at bay. His own armour has similar markings, and his face is deeply bruised and bloodied. I know, looking upon him, that he’s the one who fought and defeated Athena and Velia. Clearly, he didn’t get off lightly in that fight.
He appears a little weary, though, as we pour forward, my added strength giving us the upper hand. I’ve never seen my mother fight like this, with such control and concentration, her anger guided down a tunnel right at the clone in front of her.
As we push him back, he moves towards his brother, battling with Drake, drawing together to fight as one. We close in around them, and I note the fury in my grandfather’s eyes, his old body giving everything it has, emptying the tank one final time.
A little way away, the pulsing battle between Knight and AK1 rages on, my attention unable to steer away from them. I lift my eyes to them for just a moment, and see them embroiled in hectic battle, still using only their fists in combat.
My momentary lapse presents an opportunity for the Seekers. One hunts me down amid the tumble of limbs and I’m too late to see the knife come at me, surging towards my neck. As the Seeker’s blade nears, however, Cyra’s hand rises from below, knocking him off his stride, and sending the blade only grazing across the top of my neck below the chin, one of the few places on my body that remains exposed.
The graze is enough to slice through my skin, the cut only shallow. Blood begins to dribble, but not pour, and I quickly re-enter the fight.
More cuts are administered, some only minor, others a little deeper. Both sides find their bodies being peppered with injuries, but none hinder any of us.
Then, suddenly, from behind, I sense a new presence coming forward. I turn and watch as Knight comes in, AK1 knocked back onto the ground and struggling to his feet. He looks a little dazed, shaking the cobwebs from his head with a roar as he grinds to his feet.
Knight’s eyes pulse hard, staring straight at Cyra. His hand draws up with a devilish knife, flashing silver under the light. I can see it all happening now, see him moving in to strike her down, his hatred for her spewing from every pour.
Her back is turned from him, still fighting with the Seeker. I make a move to call out a warning, but I’m distracted enough to not see the other Seeker’s fist coming. It clatters into my face and I stumble back, the world blurring a little. Cyra launches herself back in at the same clone, Knight looming behind her.
The world turns slow now, everyone’s motion seeming to grow muddy. Step by step, Knight comes, his blade ready to press right through my mother’s back, right into her heart, just like she did to him all those years ago.
I call out ‘no’ just as he comes, his blade guiding right at her, all his force levied behind it. My muted bellow is enough to draw my mother’s eye, but not at the threat looming at her rear. She looks to me instead, her eyes narrowing, as I try to move forward again.
I’m too late.
The blade comes in, no one able to stop it, cutting through bodysuit and flesh alike, surging deep.
But it’s not my mother’s body that takes the hit.
It’s my grandfather’s.
Stepping right before Knight’s knife, he accepts the blade for his own. It pieces his armour, his flesh, his bone, the tip unstoppable as it penetrates right through to his heart.
I watch in horror as the blade appears out of his back, cutting him right through. My mother turns, and sees her father right behind her, staring face to face with the devil, his body skewered by the longer dagger.
Now, it’s her who stands distracted. The Seeker presses in on her, his own knife coming, and I rush on and knock him back, pummelling him to the floor. For a moment, Knight’s knife stays locked into Drake’s body, his eyes quickly fading, his light going out. And then, with a slow and callous motion, Knight pulls the blade out, and Drake’s body tumbles to the floor, right at my mother’s feet.
A short lull hits the room. All seem to stop for a moment, the Seekers stepping back to Knight’s sides, AK1 moving across to ours. We stand, face to face, three on three, with the body of my grandfather between us.
And for several long moments, Cyra just looks at him, staring at his face, watching as his eyes go dull and the blood seeps from his body. She kneels down as his eyes flash on her, weak, fading, his body broken. Her hand strokes his head, as he tries to whisper a final word, blood bubbling around his lips.
But he can’t. No words come, his life slipping away. She knows there’s nothing she can do. And as his eyes go blank, and her fingers slide over them, closing them forever, Knight’s voice spreads across the narrow gap between us.
“Don’t worry, Cyra…you’ll be with him again soon.”
A trickle of enjoyment flows from his mouth, the hum of joy in his voice. As if he wanted to kill Drake and not Cyra. As if he wants, now, to cut me down before he does the same to her. As if he wants to watch her suffer, basking in the terrible picture of pain on her face.
“I love you, dad,” I hear my mother whisper, ignoring Knight, looking upon her father one final time.
My heart breaks at the sight, tears welling behind my eyes. I blink hard and turn my pain to anger, as my mother stands up once again. On her face, I see the same metamorphosis, her agony transforming to hate, her emotion giving her strength.
And, inside me, the same force rises. My focus turns back to the enemy, waiting for us to engage, each of them smiling now as they watch us.
“Let’s finish this,” comes my mother’s voice, whispering from the side as she stares forward as I do. “For Drake…”
And then, with a burst, her body explodes forward.
And AK1 and I follow.
30
Deja Vu
My mother goes straight for Knight, moving with a pace that he doesn’t seem to expect. I move alongside her, joining to her right, as AK1 moves to her left. At the back of the room, the Baron now hides with the rest of the Cabal, locked behind the transparent barrier once more, calling out over and over for AK1 to stop.
He doesn’t listen.
Fighting as a three, we engage with Knight and the Seekers, slashing with our fists and blades, working as one as they once did. I see them now, struggling a little to keep us at bay, the two Seekers growing weary and tired, not moving as one, as a single being, as they have before.
Now, shorn of their leader, the telepathic link between them has been weakened. Knight, with his new mind, hasn’t been able to develop such a skill, unable to direct their actions and battle together in a coherent fashion.
Instead, it’s us who are the more natural, flowing around each other, hooking and stabbing and darting at the enemy, coiling them into a ball of fury as we duck and weave and warn each other of any errant attacks we might miss.
I’ve never fought like this, never had such a link while battling with others. The connection with AK1 grows, my mind somehow picking up where he’s going to attack next, my limbs acting accordingly to best strike at the enemy.
We move around the room, using any tools and equipment that we pass by, scooping th
em up and battering them down. We begin to unsettle them, wear them down, only Knight himself appearing to battle with the same assurance that you’d expect from these clones. He stands above us all, knocking us back as we advance, attempting to cut us down with the blade that saw to the end of my grandfather, still dripping with his blood.
But I see it all too early now. And so does Cyra. And so does AK1. Feeding each other with our own abilities, our own sight into the Void, we all see any attack early enough to step away from it, around it, anything that might get near nothing but a glancing blow that rattles off our bodysuits.
I note the rising anger in Knight’s eyes as he comes forward, his throat blaring out with a roar of rage. The other Seekers seem cowed by him, their connection now growing opaque and shrouded, a veil falling over the link that once drew them together.
I can see it in their faces now, and it gives me further hope, hope which spreads from me to my mother, and on to AK1. They look upon him as he fights them, quelled by the change in him, by the turn to our side, unable to figure it all out.
Only weapons of war and chaos, their minds can’t grasp all of this. All their lives they’ve done nothing but follow orders, incapable of forming their own independent thoughts. Only AK1, guiding them, leading them, has parted from the vice that surrounded him for so long, battling out of the darkness to see the light.
His focus is pure and deep, and together we begin to overpower the two clones. Soon, I’m circling round the back of one as my mother attacks the front, and my extendable dagger is surging right at him and finding its way into his flesh.
I feel it enter him and a flash of pity crosses my thoughts. I drive it deeper and hear him roar in pain, the dagger slowing as I push it through his spine. Suddenly, his body goes stiff, and his roaring stops, and to the floor he falls, his spinal chord severed.
He’s dead.
I feel no joy at his parting. He never made a decision in his life. He never had a choice. Lying before me, with a face locked in pain, I grit my teeth with anger at what I’ve been forced to do. And my eyes flash on the Baron, standing behind his barrier, quivering in fear as I search him out.
