by Ben Hale
The white-horned dakorian removed his blade from her throat, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The dakorian’s expression was disappointed as he retreated a step. Then Olana’s features darkened.
“Kill the boy,” she said.
The dakorian grinned and raised his weapon. Ero grimaced at his helplessness, while Kensen closed his eyes. Ero had done all he could, and Olana knew she held all the cards. But in the split second before the hammer’s axe blade fell on Kensen, a figure burst into motion.
Brand rotated and stepped between the dakorian and Kensen, the energy blade appearing in her hand. The light stretched into shape and hardened, and she plunged the weapon into the dakorian’s chest.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Siena stood rigid, her blade extending into the dakorian’s chest. The soldier stared back, disbelief twisting his features. He looked down at the energy blade and then back to her. Then he stumbled backward, the blade pulling free. He reached to the mortal wound and raised his bloody hand with a grimace.
“But you’re just a slave,” he managed.
He dropped to his knee, sending a tremble through the room. His hammer fell from his grip and clattered to the floor, his eyes going dim. With a thud, he fell on his side and slumped in death.
Siena stood with her chest heaving, staring at the soldier she had killed. She knew she should feel remorse or guilt, but there was only a sense of triumph. The guard would have killed Kensen, and she had stopped the murder. She—a slave—had prevented an act of brutality.
“Kill her,” Olana said.
The words broke the silence, and Siena looked to Olana. The krey woman regarded her with disgust. Then Siena registered the words and spun to face the other dakorian, who smirked.
“With pleasure,” he said.
The dakorian raised his hammer, and Siena ducked, the hammer swinging over her head to crash into a cabinet of drey. Expensive liquids poured onto the floor, and Siena slashed her blade across it, the energy from her blade igniting them into a wall of fire.
“Have you gone mad?” Kensen demanded as Siena dragged him away from the flames. “You killed a dakorian!”
“Would you rather be dead?” Siena replied.
“I told you she’d be trouble,” Olana snapped, retreating behind her desk while Ero watched the fight, his expression delighted.
The slave Olana had intended as a replacement for Siena fled to the door, and Siena shouted a warning. Too late, the dakorian swung his hammer, striking her down. As her body silently hit the floor, a boiling anger filled Siena’s chest, and she darted around the fire, raising her blade. The dakorian sneered at her and swung the back of his hand.
Siena ducked and rolled across the floor, rising to slash across his leg. Her energy blade cut deep enough to do real damage. He bellowed in pain and stumbled sideways, taking weight of the injured leg.
“You gave a slave a weapon?” Olana demanded.
“Of course not,” Ero said. “You think I’d be foolish enough to give a ferox a weapon?”
Siena retreated from the enraged dakorian, torn between laughing at Ero’s blatant support and terror at what she’d done. The dakorian growled and swung his hammer, but she circled around him, dodging out of reach.
“Do something, Ero,” Olana said. “She’s your slave.”
Ero raised his hands helplessly. “What do you suggest I do?”
Olana reached to the crystal on her hand, and Siena realized she was going to ask for help. Siena clenched her free hand into a fist, the action one of helplessness. As her fingers closed, a strange shock ran up her arm and seemed to spark on her hands. Desperate, she looked to Olana, but when the krey woman touched the crystal holoview, it burst into sparks.
“What in Sevana’s name . . .?” Olana’s growled as her wrist cortex blackened.
“You should buy better quality,” Ero said.
“You!” she snapped, turning on him. “You brought her. Use your inflictor and end this.”
Ero patted his cloak. “I seem to have forgotten it on my ship. I do apologize.”
“Use your holoview!” Olana snarled.
“Mine does not have that function, sadly,” Ero lamented. “I had to sell mine when a certain House acquired all my assets.”
Olana glared daggers at Ero. The statement was an obvious lie and was tantamount to refusing to help. Siena wanted to thank Ero but kept her attention on the limping dakorian, who seemed to have realized that she was a legitimate threat. Kensen had retreated to the glass wall opposite Ero, while Olana stood behind her desk. Alone, Siena faced an armored soldier twice her height and ten times her strength.
“I’m going to squash you like an insect,” he rumbled.
He lunged, and she retreated, desperately avoiding the heavy hammer. Ducking and twisting, she tried to remember everything she’d learned, but all semblance of tactics was gone, and there was only instinct.
He pursued her across the room, but his steps were hampered by the injury to his leg. She attacked left and right, but he easily blocked, and each time it put her inside his superior reach. The hammer came for her body, and only her agility saved her life.
She felt her back strike something hard. The dakorian smirked and swung the hammer in an overhand blow meant to crush her into the carpet. Whirling, she leapt across the Olana’s desk. Olana bolted out of reach and joined Ero, while the dakorian managed to stop the hammer before it struck the wood. He glanced to Olana, who gave him a look that would have melted seracrete.
“My desk is priceless,” Olana said. “You are not.”
Recognizing the opportunity, Siena steeled herself and swung her blade, slicing a long piece from the edge of the desk. Olana fixed her with a glare, and the slave in Siena wanted to look down. She refused.
“How much do you really like your desk?” Siena placed her blade against the wood.
“Stop her,” Olana snarled to the guard. “Or it will be your bones.”
Siena attacked the desk again, but the dakorian swung his hammer beneath the blade, blocking the strike. Siena hacked again and again, slashing at the furniture while the dakorian tried to block her strikes. Then she used his distraction and swung for him, driving the blade at the inside of his arm. The ploy worked, and her blade pierced the flesh and bone of his elbow. Unfortunately, it also put her close to the soldier, and the dakorian caught her wrist, yanking her from behind the desk and flinging her across the room.
Siena hit the floor and rolled toward the fire. She ground her hand into the carpet and stopped short. Fortunately, she’d retained her grip on the hilt of the energy blade, and she stood to face the advancing soldier.
“Is the little slave hard for a dakorian to kill?”
Olana’s mocking voice elicited a snarl from the dakorian, and he lunged, swinging his hammer right, left, and up. He favored his good arm and leg, but even injured, he was far superior to Siena.
She slipped out of reach, but the hammer came closer and closer. In desperation, she feinted high right, and the dakorian swung his hammer, allowing her to leap inside his reach. But his reaction was a ruse, and he caught the handle of his weapon and leveled it at her chest, firing the lance.
Rolling to the side, Siena barely evaded the streak of an ion bolt, which burned over her shoulder. It hit the side of Olana’s desk, blasting a hole all the way to the wall. Bits of burning wood filled the air.
Olana screamed her fury, and the dakorian recoiled in horror at the destruction. Siena jumped in and slashed across the dakorian’s arm, drawing blood. When he swung the hammer at her, she smashed her blade against the handle. The contact spat sparks but deflected the weapon’s swing above her head. She saw her chance attacked again, driving her blade into the dakorian’s chest. He grunted as the blade sliced through his bone armor and into his upper heart.
It was a mortal blow and both knew it. The dakorian’s features twisted in pain and disbelief, but Siena’s moment of triumph ended when the dakorian punched his bone-
armored fist into her face. The impact sent her skidding across the room. She struck the glass window hard enough for it to crack.
She slumped to the floor in a heap, struggling to move, to think, her vision swimming. Panic made her hands tremble, but they were slow to respond. A thump reverberated through the floor, the sound of a dakorian’s body collapsing. But it was hard to recall why that was significant. Dazed, she reached up to her face, her hand coming away bloody. She grimaced, and as her vision cleared, Kensen caught her arm.
“Don’t move.” His voice was urgent, terrified.
“Mmmm fine,” she slurred.
Her face didn’t work right, and the terror on his face indicated it was bad. Oddly, the pain seemed distant, and she reached up again. He tried to stop her, but when she touched her face, she felt the fracture in her bones and hissed.
Her gut clenched, and a strange energy flowed from her core, rising to her face. She grappled with the energy, but it brought blessed numbness. She twitched when the bones ground back into place and—impossibly—knit together.
Bone and tissue bonded and sealed, the muscles and tendons reconnecting and healing one cell at a time. She could feel the energy coursing upward to her face, like a conduit of power rising from within.
She gasped, in shock as much as in pain, and then realized the pain had begun to recede. Blood still seeped from a wound on her face, but the bones were no longer broken.
The bones repaired, her skin gradually sealed together. She stared at Kensen’s worried expression, but it was obvious he had not seen it. He had tears in his eyes and was trying to tear a portion of his shirt as a bandage. Even if he did look, there was enough blood to obscure what was happening to her body.
The shock bound her thoughts as she gently touched her face, ignoring Kensen’s pleas. Even a cell regenerator could not heal so quickly, yet her bones had been broken, and now they were whole. Had Ero done something to her? She’d been injured while a slave to Secondous Laurik, and not healed, but that had been before . . .
The experiment.
She shuddered, and bile ascended her throat. Refusing to even consider what had happened, she finally focused on Kensen’s face. His face was long with dread, his eyes carrying an ache. He finished ripping off a strip of fabric and fumbled to wrap it around her cheek.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”
She caught his hand. “Kensen,” she said, wincing as the last of the skin knit together. “I’m not hurt.”
He finally looked up. Confusion washed across his features before he leaned in, scanning her cheek. Beneath the blood, the skin probably appeared whole. Kensen shook his head, and then again, obviously grappling to explain what he’d seen with what he now saw. Then Siena looked past him and spotted Olana’s sneering features.
“Your slave may have killed two dakorians, but she died a coward’s death,” she said to Ero.
Siena realized the woman thought her dying from a fractured skull, and the expression on Ero supported that theory. Siena’s smile was grim as she pushed herself off the floor and stood. She had the extreme satisfaction of witnessing pure shock on Olana’s features, and then she raised her energy blade to point at the woman.
“Not today,” Siena said.
The woman stared at her with wide eyes, the shock finally stilling her vile tongue. Kensen hovered at her side, still stunned, while Ero glanced to the second dakorian, who lay on the floor.
“You really should employ better soldiers,” Ero said. “He was as weak as a slave.”
“Clearly.”
Olana recovered and backed to stand with Ero, probably guessing that the two of them could overpower Siena and Kensen. But Ero stepped away from her and shook his head, his expression apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Olana, but you are no longer my ally.”
The woman’s features twisted in shock and anger. “You would betray me?”
“I think you would call this retribution.”
Siena watched the exchange, grateful for Ero. He might have been krey, and her owner, but he was choosing a side. Ero was standing with Siena—against Olana. And the pleasure on Ero’s face made it clear he relished the moment.
“You would ally with a human? Over me?” Her shrieks echoed in the room.
“It’s just business.” Ero walked to the dead dakorian and yanked the coding crystal from its position on his belt.
“You’ll pay for this.”
“Why?” Ero swept his hand to the dead guards. “It seems your dakorians fought each other, tragically killing a slave in the duel.”
He strode to the door and used the coding crystal to open the portal. Then he motioned to Siena and Kensen. Siena didn’t hesitate, but Kensen did. Catching her hand, Kensen forced her to turn.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” he hissed. “You have a blade, and you’ve killed two dakorians. Why would you go with him?”
“Would you rather stay with her?” She motioned to Olana.
Olana folded her arms, and Kensen grimaced before falling into step behind Siena. He cast a backward glance as they exited, but Siena hurried to catch Ero at the door. Ero smiled to Olana as the door shut.
“Good-bye, beautiful,” Ero said.
“Good-bye, handsome,” Olana replied.
The door shut, and Ero spun the coding crystal in his hand. There was a spring in his step as he walked up the length of the corridor to the riser. With each step, Siena’s adrenaline faded, leaving her grappling with a surge of fear. She’d killed two dakorians.
Killed.
Two.
Dakorians.
They were soldiers, trained for war and combat. She was a slave, a tiny girl in comparison. She would be punished and killed, and if she’d had children, they would be killed as well.
Her hand was trembling, and Kensen took it, but she couldn’t hear his words. Dread buzzed in her ears, tearing into her thoughts. Her gut clenched, and she fought to breathe.
“That went better than I expected,” Ero mused.
It took several seconds for his words to register through Siena’s rising panic, and then she whirled to face him. She expected to see fear or worry, but instead he seemed . . . pleased.
“You expected me to kill two dakorians?” Siena asked.
“Of course not.” He tapped the blade still in her hand. “I would call that a bonus to the negotiations.” He grinned and motioned behind them, where the glowwood doors were shut. “Shall we be going? It appears our business is complete.”
Without waiting for an answer, he made his way to the riser. Siena stared at Ero’s back, unable to comprehend his casual flight from the crimes she had just committed. Without an answer, she looked to Kensen, who shrugged.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
Then Kensen followed the krey, leaving her to her confusion. She glanced back to the door—to find a dakorian now stood at the portal. His eyes were fixed on Siena, his hand gripping the hammer lance resting on the floor, as if he wanted her to attack. She looked to the blade in her hand and swallowed. Extinguishing the weapon with a touch, she tucked the hilt back into its hidden sheath and then hurried to follow her companions.
Chapter Thirty-Six
When Siena caught up to Ero, she lowered her voice. “Shouldn’t we be hurrying to escape?”
She glanced back at the dakorian at Olana’s office, but he had not moved. That did not relieve her tension. Olana was the type of krey that liked to lull her prey into a sense of security—before removing their heart. The doors of the riser whisked open, and the trio stepped onto the circle of light. Ero touched the coded crystal to the riser, and it began to lift them toward the surface.
“Why would we need to hurry?” Ero asked.
“Because Tertious Olana will send more guards.” Kensen said it like it was obvious.
Siena stepped to the glass wall of the riser and scanned the intersecting tubes above, but t
hey remained empty. Her burgeoning panic did not subside, and she couldn’t shake the image of two dead dakorians on the floor.
Ero turned thoughtful before waving in dismissal. “I doubt it. That wasn’t the first time blood has been spilled in our conversations. I doubt it will be the last.”
“Yet you called her an ally?” Siena demanded.
“You saw her.” Ero chuckled to himself. “She is certainly deadly, but that is part of what makes her attractive.”
“Are all krey this stupid?” Siena demanded.
Kensen sucked in his breath and jammed a finger into her shoulder, hard enough that she glared at him. His eyes were wide with fear and anger, but his words came out in a hiss.
“You can’t talk like that to a krey.”
“I think he likes my honesty,” Siena said.
“Oddly enough, I do,” Ero said.
Despite Ero’s words, she could not shake the lingering tension. She, a slave, had killed two soldiers. Olana would not just allow them to depart. Repeatedly, she looked down at the shrinking corridor below, expecting to see hundreds of dakorians approaching the riser. Then she realized they would probably intercept them above, if Olana managed to get her beamcast crystal working.
But there was nothing but empty corridor, and as they passed through the mine, there was no sudden rush of dakorians. She clenched her hand on the hilt of her energy blade, resisting the urge to draw the weapon when they rose above the surface and approached the World Gate on top of the mountain.
They glided to a halt and exited to find the krey operator standing at his panel, just as bored as he’d been when they had arrived. He didn’t seem to care that Kensen walked with them, or that Siena was covered in blood.
“Olana would like to thank you for your visit,” he said. “And has agreed to transfer ownership of your new slave.”
Kensen’s earring changed from yellow to blue. Siena was as confused as ever, but Ero inclined his head in gratitude.
“Inform her I look forward to our next encounter.”
“She said the same,” the krey said. “Now where is your destination?”
