by Keri Arthur
The earth obeyed. As a foot-wide sliver of solid ground began to extend across the liquid soil, I unslung a pulse rifle and fired at the bipeds. They were too far away for the weapon to do much harm, but I didn't really care as long as it slowed them down enough for the scouts to reach my bridge.
A slow shudder went through the vast wall behind me—something I felt more than saw. Then, with little warning, it began to sink, slowly at first but with ever-increasing speed, until a hundred-foot length of it splintered away from the rest and began to fall vertically.
Straight at us.
Twelve
As the scouts scrambled madly onto the sliver of solid ground I'd created, I screamed, “Run!”
I grabbed my knife, thrust to my feet, and pelted toward the sheer canyon wall. Our only hope for survival lay in me creating a shelter strong enough to protect us from the mass of stone now tumbling toward us.
I gripped my knife hard and envisioned a deep cave being punched into the black surface. The blade pulsed, the earth shuddered in response, and a fissure appeared in the wall, growing wider and deeper with every step I took toward it. Huge chunks of stone began to thunder all around me, the force of their impact shuddering through the ground. But they were little more than a warning—the main bulk of the wall was still coming. I could hear the whistle of it falling, could see its ever-increasing shadow gather all around me.
Seconds. That’s all any of us had left.
I swore and dove for the fissure, tumbling through its entrance and scrambling back to my feet. I swung around, saw a dozen scouts racing toward me. Where the others were, I had no idea—the earth bridge I'd created no longer existed and the liquid soil was awash with waves as ever-larger chunks of stone thundered into it. There were no bodies in that turbulent sea, and no Volker evident beyond it. Even those who'd clambered out of the crevice had halted their charge and were currently raising gauntleted fists to the sky with what looked and sounded like glee.
One scout made it into the fissure. Then two. Three. Four. Another threw herself toward us in desperation, only to be knocked sideways and crushed under a huge slab of wall.
Two more figures appeared out of the dust, both of them bloody, the woman all but dragging the man. I shoved the knife into the nearby wall and tried to extend the stone outward to give them some sort of shelter from the deadly rain. Pain began to pulse through my head, and the hilt of the blade was slick with blood. My blood, coming not just from my sliced hand but the multiple tears and bites across my arms and shoulders. The man stumbled and fell. As he did, he wrenched himself away from his partner and pushed her forward. Hands reached past me, grabbed her, pulled her inside.
The man never made it.
He disappeared under a mountain of stone that hit the ground so hard it sent a wave of dirt and debris rolling toward our cavern. I swore, wrenched the knife free, and quickly followed the others deeper into the fissure.
Darkness enclosed us. Darkness, and air so thick it was almost choking. For several minutes none of us moved; the mountain above us groaned and shuddered, and the cries of the Volker grew in intensity.
They'd broken the garrison's spine. A full attack could be only minutes away.
Nash moved out of the gloom and stopped beside me. “We can't stay here. The garrison’s going to need every soldier still standing if we're to have any hope of beating these bastards off.”
There was little enough hope of that happening, and we both knew it. But all I said was, “I know.”
I raised the pulsing knife. Her golden light flowed across the dusty darkness, an indication there were no mages or dark magic in close proximity.
But it also revealed the wall of rock that now filled the fissure that had saved us. We weren't getting out the same way we'd gotten in. Aside from the fact it would probably take more strength than I currently had to move that wall, doing so would only put us in the path of the Volker and death.
I took a deep breath, ignored the wash of weariness, and studied the rest of the small cavern. A number of fissures littered the surrounding walls, some of them wide enough to pass through, providing the tantalizing possibility that this cavern was, in fact, part of a deeper system running through the mountain. “Nash, see if you can contact comms, and tell them what's happened. I'll see if the tunnel over there goes anywhere.”
“And the rest of us?” Orli asked.
“Tend to your wounds and grab some rest. You're not going to get much chance to do either if we do get out of here.”
As they obeyed, I walked across to the largest fissure and carefully edged inside. There was very little room—I still had a pulse rifle slung across my back, and in an effort not to damage the thing, I was instead scraping my damn breasts. The uniform's tough material and the vest underneath were both offering some protection, but if the wall got any rougher, the uniform, at the very least, would start fraying.
Thankfully, the fissure opened into a wide tunnel and then into a cavern with almost cathedral-like proportions. Water tumbled down the slick black walls and a large lake dominated a good portion of the area. I walked around the water's edge, picking my way across rocks that were wet and slick with slime. Another tunnel led me away from the water cavern and sloped upward. I trudged on wearily, battling exhaustion and the desire to just give up and sit down, vaguely hoping that I wasn't getting lost and this tunnel would lead somewhere.
As it turned out, it did.
I turned a sharp corner and was confronted by a door. A metal door that was thick with slime and rust, giving every indication that it hadn't been used in years.
Even so, relief surged so thick and fast that my knees threatened to give away. I flipped the knife around, stepped up to the door, and hit the rusted metal as hard as I could with the hilt of the blade. A gong-like sound echoed loudly across the silence, but there was no immediate response. I hit it again; again, the sound echoed.
There had to be someone out there. Had to be.
I leaned back against the wall and pressed the halo. But either I was too far underground or the damn thing was on the blink again, because there was no response, which left me with the choice of waiting or forcing the thing open. Given the growing tide of weariness, I decided on the former—a good decision given that, after a few more minutes, footsteps approached.
“Who's there?” a gruff voice said.
“Caracal One. I've injured people down here—we need a medic ASAP.”
“Step away from the door.”
I did so. After a moment, and with a huge amounted of protest, the old door swung open, revealing not just one man but ten. All of them wearing the red gowns of the queen's guard and all with weapons pointed straight out me.
And they didn't relax even when it was blatantly obvious I was the only one in the tunnel and no threat to them.
One of their number raised a hand and pressed the circular disk sitting close to the lobe of his ear. “My queen, the intruder claims to be Caracal One.” He gave her a quick but accurate description, and then added, “Can you confirm identity?”
She obviously did, because all ten guards immediately relaxed. The man in charge gave me a quick smile and then said, “How did you find yourself in this cavern?”
“That's neither here nor there. I've got injured people in the cavern beyond the underground lake, and I need to know what has happened to the garrison.”
“How many are we talking about?”
“Five.”
He didn't immediately answer, and his expression suggested Marttia was speaking. After a moment, he unhooked the disk from around his ear, handed it to me, and then ordered all but one of his people forward. The remaining guard motioned me to follow him and walked away without waiting to see if I did. I hooked what I presumed was the Mauvaissian equivalent of the halo around my ear and then said, “Marttia, what’s happening?”
“Chaos. Why did the wall collapse? I thought you went out to stop it?”
“By the time I got the
re, the ground around the foundations had already liquefied. There was nothing I could do.”
“You couldn't solidify or repair it?”
We came out of the tunnel into the harsh brightness of a red wall walkway, and I realized abruptly where I was—in Rodestat. “No. What happens at the garrison?”
“Despite the breach, the bipeds are being held.”
That was something of a miracle given their greater numbers and the hundred-foot expanse of wall that had fallen.
“And Donal?”
“The wind rages on, but its force is waning.”
I swore softly. “I need to get over there.”
“No, you don't. You’ve already said the wall can’t be repaired, and I cannot allow you to put—”
“You can't stop me,” I bit back. “I'm the goddamn queen of Cannamore by right, and I'll do whatever ever needs to be done to protect these lands and all her people.”
There was a brief but shocked silence before she said, amusement evident, “And the monarch finally rises. Good. But don't ever use that tone with me again or you and I will start your reign on very unfriendly terms.”
I snorted. “Let's survive the next few hours before we start worrying about shit like that.”
“I agree, which makes it all the more imperative that you—”
“Marttia, if we're going to beat these bastards, we need the King's Sword. To get that, I need to grab the restraint bracelets because the king will not let me anywhere near Divona without them.”
And to get near Divona with any sort of speed, I was going to need Donal’s help.
The guard turned left, into a wider corridor. An open door lay at the far end, and beyond it stars glimmered. Night had fallen while we'd been trapped underground.
“Ah,” she said. “That is an entirely different matter. I've just ordered a transporter to take you there, but it will wait—”
“I'm not abandoning the garrison. Not unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”
“Which it will,” she snapped, and then took an audible breath. “But fine. Do as you wish.”
I half smiled. For the first time in a long time I'd actually won a battle of wills, and no matter how slight it was, it felt good. “Have you begun evacuating Rodestat?”
“Yes, and don't presume to tell me what to do when it comes to the safety of my people.”
Her people were also mine, but I bit the comment back and simply said, “Do you send them to Divona?”
She snorted. “That place will undoubtedly be the Volker’s next target. The bulk of our population is going to Og-dour Cove, where we have a fleet of barges at anchor. They’ll carry them offshore if it becomes necessary.”
Meaning I had a lot to learn when it came to the territories I might one day rule. I had no idea that the Mauvaissians were, in any way, seafarers.
A carriage pulled up as we exited the corridor. I ran down the steps and climbed inside. The driver immediately took off, his speed such that I was thrown backward into the seat. He'd obviously been told to hurry.
The main street was quiet and empty, and the houses and buildings on either side dark. It was only when we neared the no man's land that divided the city from the garrison that we slowed, and it quickly became evident why—there was a steady stream of people and vehicles coming into Rodestat from the garrison.
As the driver wove his way through the exodus, I opened the window and leaned out; thick black smoke billowed from the section where the wall had come down, and flames leapt skyward, bright in the darkness. Lightning flashed overhead, but it barely held enough power to illuminate the top of the remaining curtain wall, let alone any of the soldiers who were up there fighting for survival. Another flash peeled through the darkness, but this time it was more over the peaks. And in the fading glow, there was movement.
An ashy gray mass of flesh was crawling silently down the mountainside toward the garrison.
Panic surged and I hit the ear disk. “Marttia, are you in direct contact with the commander?”
“Yes—why?”
“There’s a massive force of Volker coming down from the top of the mountain—the breach attack is a ruse. The garrison has ten minutes, if that, before they're swamped.”
“May the gods help us all,” she muttered before the line went dead. I hoped it was because she was contacting Gallego and not because the bipeds had somehow disrupted communications.
I thumped the wall between the driver and me and ordered him to hurry. As the vehicle lurched forward once again and people scattered and swore at us, I swung the rifle from my shoulder and restocked the chambers with what little ammo I still carried. Then I drew my knife and took a deep breath in a somewhat useless attempt to calm the fear and growing sense of horror.
As preparations went, it was pretty goddamn useless, but there was little else I could do. Raising the earth wasn't going to work—I simply didn't have the strength to make a wave of rock and stone large enough to swamp the sheer number of bipeds now coming at us. I doubted if even the king and my brother combined could do that—even if they had been capable of controlling the earth—especially given that Racinda and her people had failed to stop these creatures not once but twice.
Our best chance of survival was to regroup behind Rodestat's solid walls—and then find some way to stop the Volker doing to that city what they'd already done to the garrison.
What did surprise me was the fact they hadn't already attacked Rodestat, especially given they'd clambered up that mountain without anyone actually noticing. But maybe they simply wanted to deliver a killing blow on the garrison first, thereby destroying the city’s most obvious defense before they turned their attention and their resources to the city itself. If the utterly straight line of the tunnel they’d created through both dead lands and the Skaran grasslands was any indication, they were creatures who didn’t believe in any major deviation from a set course.
The carriage swept through the garrison gates into the chaos Marttia had mentioned. Thick black smoke filled the air and there were people, bipeds, and bodies absolutely everywhere. The pulse cannons were still barking, an indication that soldiers remained on the curtain wall, but most seemed to be either on the various levels or here on the ground; they were all still fighting, still trying to win.
I flung the door open, caught sight of several stretcher-bearers, and waved them over. “Use the carriage and get as many as the wounded out of here as possible. The whole place is about to be overrun.”
Their faces went pale, but they the nevertheless hit their halos and began a rapid series of orders. The carriage driver started to protest but shut up at my glare.
I spun and ran for the nearest stairs. A fierce scream shattered the silence and jerked my gaze up—a biped had launched from the walkway two flights above and was arrowing straight at me. I didn't stop; I simply raised the rifle and fired until his blood and brains rained around me and his body slapped onto the steps behind me.
I didn't look back. I just kept on running. Another Volker came at me. I ducked his blow and used the knife and the force of his momentum to gut him. He screamed in fury, twisted around, leapt again; I rolled underneath him, somehow avoided his slashing talons, then spun and fired at the back of his head. As his brains joined his intestines on the walkway, I ran into our bunkroom, grabbing the edge of the door to steady myself as I spun around the corner and into my cubicle. But as I wrenched the locker open and slapped on the restraint bracelets, the garrison halo came to life. “This is a code one evacuation order for all personnel. Follow retreat procedures immediately and leave all possessions behind.”
I hit the halo and said, “Commander, this is Nyx. Have you heard from Donal?”
“Not for at least ten minutes, but he was still up on the wall last report.”
I swore and ran out of the room. The black smoke was even thicker and the walkways more crowded as remaining personnel began to evacuate. But the Volker weren't about to let anyone slip past their ta
lons without a fight, and multiple flashes lit the darkness, some of them green-yellow, others the bright white of the pulse rifles.
I scrambled down to the courtyard, raced across to the stairs that led to the top of curtain wall, and pushed my way through those coming down as quickly as possible, but many of them were badly injured and being carried, and that by necessity slowed me down.
Then a familiar voice yelled, “Nyx!”
I looked up, scanning the bloody features of those above me for several seconds before I recognized one. “Raj, have you seen Donal?”
“He and his team are providing cover for the retreat. Where are you going? Didn't you hear the evac order?”
“I did, but I'm needed up top.” I squeezed his arm as I passed. “Keep alert down there—the bipeds have infiltrated the garrison.”
If he made a reply, I didn't hear it. I was already pushing on. The higher I climbed, the thicker the smoke became, and the more the air stunk of fear and death. The wind was little more than a whisper now and provided no relief from the gritty soot staining the air. And that could only mean Donal’s strength was giving out.
A heartbeat later, the rattle of the cannons silenced, replaced by the pulse of rifles. But there were too few of them, given the weight of bipeds coming at us.
I swore and raced up the remaining steps. Two bloody figures dragged an unconscious Donal toward the stairs while another seven—including Margreet, Donal's second—held their ground and fired at what looked like a wall of ashy flesh and glistening talons.
I swung the rifle over my shoulder then shoved the knife into the wall and said, “Rise up and smother the bastards.”
A rumble ran through the stone, gathering speed and intensity as it raced toward the oncoming Volker. It passed the scouts and then rose up in a wave that drowned the Volker in stone.
But the walkway under my feet vibrated with movement—there was at least a hundred more Volker climbing the broken wall. We had minutes, if that.
