Infinity's Embrace

by Anna Carven

  The General moved, becoming a black blur as he sped forward. Ashrael had sensed his intent and his first thought was to evade him, but some instinct told him to stay where he was. Akkadian’s armored hand closed around his neck, cutting off his air.

  He forced himself to stay calm, resisting the urge to fight back, even though his ka’qui was loaded with tension. He tried to suppress his killing intent, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep his hands by his sides. He made fists, unsheathing his claws so that they dug into the flesh of his palms, drawing blood. The pain dulled his desire to fight to some extent.

  “How, katach? You tell me how they managed to cross over the most sophisticated detection system this side of the Universe and come within an arm’s length of my mate and my child, and I may consider granting you just a fraction of the terms you seek.”

  The General’s aura had turned into a maelstrom of dark fury. He didn’t seem to acknowledge the fact that the attackers had been aiming for Ashrael and Noa. All he cared about was that they’d come within striking distance of his family.

  Ashrael had to tread very carefully here. “They used qim,” he said softly, noting Elgon’s spike of surprise.

  “Qim?” Akkadian’s grip loosened ever so slightly.

  “An ancient technique,” Elgon said, a trace of fear in his voice. “It is warned against in the writings of the Zor. Those who use it are at risk of losing their souls in the void between life and death. It is dangerous.”

  “Something like that.” Ashrael felt a rush of anger at this new information. His trainers had never told him using qim was so dangerous.

  The General lowered his hand, staring at Ashrael intently. “So tell me, assassin, how does one use this qim to evade detection?”

  Ashrael stared at him with his second sight. “It is extremely difficult, and it can only be maintained for short periods of time. It is hard to explain to one who lacks the talent, but when we draw on qim, we extend our energy as far as it can go until our souls are stretched very thin, like vapor. Then we flow into the dimension that exists in-between. In a way, we exist between worlds. Our bodies become light and cold and virtually undetectable. When coupled with the invisibility technique, the qim turns us into temporary spirits. We can’t pass through walls, but we can evade any kind of detection. In a way, we momentarily cease to exist.”

  Elgon exhaled slowly, making the sign of the Goddess. “I did not know the Program was encouraging the use of qim,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  “As far as I know, there are only four who can use it,” Ashrael said.

  “And those are?” Akkadian raised an eyebrow.

  “Two are dead. You’ve captured the other. The fourth, of course, is me.”

  “Of course. And you’re sure there are no others who have mastered the technique?”

  “That was the case when I left Kythia. Now, I don’t know. The Silent Ones are always training to improve their skills. Now that they know I am lost to them, they will be seeking to train another.”

  “Hm.” The General’s attention was momentarily diverted as he inclined his head. It was as if someone was talking to him, perhaps through a comm. He turned to Elgon. “We are ready to test it.”

  “Test what?” Ashrael’s suspicion grew.

  “Elgon has a theory. It is time to test the true nature of your bond with Noali.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked sharply. Panicking, he reached out across their bond. She seemed far away.

  Noa, where are you? He wasn’t even sure if his mindspeech had reached her.

  There was a pause. His heart hammered as he waited for her answer, afraid he’d scared her away.

  Finally, she answered. Ashrael? They’re taking me up to the warship until they can be sure there are no more attackers coming for us. Silence, I think it’s called. I don’t really have much choice. If I stay on Earth, I’m at risk of being attacked again. I’m sorry, I should have told you, but I didn’t want to distract you. I wanted to give you time to heal. I was told you would follow us when you were well enough.

  I will follow you, he declared, his anger growing as he realized what was about to happen.

  “You would take her away from me?” he growled, taking a step forward, his bloodlust rising. How dare they use her as an unwitting pawn in order to gain his co-operation.

  Akkadian pressed a hand against his chest, holding him back. “Control yourself, katach. I know exactly what you are going through. Believe, me I have been there a hundred times over. I assured her that you would follow her, and you will, but this is important.”

  We’re about to take off, Ashrael. I’ll see you shortly. She said it with sweet conviction, putting her trust in the people around her. In so many ways, she was as pure as he was tainted.

  They must have departed, because their bond began to stretch, her presence becoming fainter and fainter as the craft she was on disappeared from Earth’s atmosphere.

  It made Ashrael uneasy. He glared at Akkadian with his second sight, thoughts of violence running through his mind. The General thought he could just toy with Ashrael and his sarien, and for what? Some crazy, misguided plan to topple the Kordolian Empire?

  Freedom is a privilege, not a right.

  His people were all crazy.

  Noa, he called, testing their bond. He could barely feel her presence now, and his anger was growing. His bloodlust was rising. He backed away from Akkadian as his hands began to tremble. His ka’qui swirled around him like a tempest, whipped up by his rising anger.

  These people thought they could control him?

  They would learn.

  Take him out. Do it quickly, while you have the element of surprise.

  He had to kill the General.

  Then you will capture his mate, and bring her to me.

  Ashrael channelled ka’qui into his limbs and body, ignoring the pain from his healing wounds.

  Give me speed.

  He sprang, dashing towards the wall where the Callidum throwing dagger was embedded. Ashrael leaped, grabbed it with his left hand, spun, and threw the weapon at the General’s chest.

  Terrible pain shot through him then, more intense and crippling than anything he’d ever experienced in his life. His left arm froze; he had no control over it anymore. Ashrael screamed and dropped to his knees as numbness spread through his body, paralyzing him from the neck down.

  He collapsed to the floor.

  Unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling, he saw the General walking towards him. Akkadian pulled the throwing dagger from his chest, the tiny nanites of his exo-armor swarming over the wound. He didn’t even flinch. Tough bastard. “Once again, if not for my inherent advantages, you would have killed me just now.” There was an odd note of admiration in his voice.

  Ashrael seethed, unable to think beyond the fact that he needed to kill.

  Akkadian turned to Elgon. “How far before the effects of the mindbond resurfaced?”

  “A thousand kuliks. When one considers the fact that they haven’t been bonded for long, it’s an impressive distance.”

  What? Through the fog of his bloodlust, Ashrael struggled to comprehend what was happening. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey his commands, even when he channelled ka’qui into his limbs.

  Akkadian crouched down beside him. “We are fortunate that Elgon has some ancient datafiles on the subject.”

  “Stolen from the hidden library in Palace of Arches,” the old man added, a certain note of pride in his voice. “We have been scanning them tirelessly since we discovered Noali.”

  The General nodded. “According to those texts, all bonds between sarien erode over large distances, just like any telepathic link or even an ordinary communication signal. The stronger the bond, the greater the distance before the link is lost.”

  “Your mindbond is only partially broken,” Elgon informed him. “When you are not in Noa’s radius, when you aren’t close enough to feel your bond, old habits are bo
und to return. The programming is very difficult to undo.”

  “Fuck,” Ashrael swore, his teeth clenched in frustration. At least he hadn’t been robbed of his ability to speak. That proved that the mindbond was at least partially broken. “Fucking bastard. What… what have you done to me?” Why couldn’t he move?

  “Did you think I would allow you out of your cage without putting in place some safety measures?” Akkadian said softly. “Your new arm has a neural immobilizer implanted into it. I can activate it at any time. The same thing will happen if you ever try to forcefully remove the arm. You are far too dangerous to trust with freedom just yet. You must prove yourself first. Do you understand?”

  “Let me see her,” Ashrael grated, trying to hold on to thoughts of Noa, even though the desire to kill was driving him mad. “I need to see her.” He sought the warm comfort of their bond. It was more important to him than life itself.

  “Believe me, I understand.” Impossibly, the General’s voice softened. Even though Ashrael had just impaled him with a fucking throwing dagger, Akkadian sounded oddly sympathetic.

  Crazy, manipulative, indecipherable bastard.

  “You may think I’m a bastard now,” he said, as if reading Ashrael’s mind, “but with time, you will come to understand. It will be easier when you aren’t so absorbed with trying to kill me all the time.” He stood, sheathing the small throwing dagger. “There are several ways to properly break your mindbond once and for all. You can probably guess one of them. Come up to Silence and we’ll talk about it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Noa stared through the transparent window, trepidation simmering inside her as she watched the two fighters. They were circling slowly, sizing one another up in the dimly lit space.

  Apparently, this was a training room, and the purpose of this little exercise was to test Ashrael’s new arm.

  She didn’t like the idea that he wanted to fight for no good reason, but these were Kordolians, and they lived and breathed violence.

  If she was going to co-exist with them, she just had to accept it, the way she’d accepted that she was currently on a giant Kordolian battle-cruiser, orbiting Earth.

  The journey up to Silence had been a painful experience. As soon as she’d lost touch with Ashrael, their bond strained over such a great distance, her mind’s barriers had fallen apart, and she’d been assaulted by the intrusive, unwanted thoughts of all the other passengers.

  All she could do was stick her audio-buds in her ears and listen to music as they docked, using all of her energy to suppress her rising panic. Beethoven and space seemed to suit one another rather well.

  Aside from the music, her entire experience had been awful, and her mind-state hadn’t been restored until they’d brought Ashrael up.

  Clearly, their bond only worked over certain distances. It wasn’t as if she could go to another galaxy and still expect to communicate with him.

  You don’t have to watch this, he said, peering through the clear wall, his aura washing over her. He sounded strangely… self-conscious.

  And so he should be. Noa couldn’t stop staring. Ashrael was wearing a pair of loose black training pants and nothing else.

  The only reason I’m even here is because of you, she replied, wondering what would have become of her if she hadn’t found this beautiful but damaged man.

  She probably would have gone mad, unable to rely on the strength of their bond to keep the voices out. She suspected Humans weren’t cut out to wield such otherworldly power.

  The other possibility was that she could have been taken by the Silent One and shipped off to the Kordolian Empire, a Human guinea-pig once more.

  She shuddered.

  Ashrael pinned her with his liquid obsidian gaze, staring at her in that sightless-but-not-sightless way of his. She didn’t really understand how his vision worked. He was technically blind, but he used the ka’qui to see. It was something to do with reading energy signatures.

  His aura flared, and Noa couldn’t help the heat that rose up her neck and into her cheeks as she stared at his lean body. His wounds were mostly healed, leaving raw grey scars across his pale skin. They sat amongst older scars, some faded, some prominent, marks of the brutal life he’d lived.

  A life of subservience.

  In future, I will tell you about my life, he said gently, although I have not done anything of worth.

  You saved my life, she reminded him.

  I was simply returning the favor. He turned to face his opponent. Of course, his sparring partner just happened to be the General. He was similarly attired, wearing only a pair of black combat pants. Compared to Ashrael, his skin was a darker shade of silver, and it was devoid of wounds and scars.

  Soft murmurs from behind made Noa glance over her shoulder. Behind her was a kind of viewing gallery. It was currently half-occupied with various members of the Kordolian military; she recognized several of the General’s inner circle, the so-called First Division, but there were also others she hadn’t seen before. Their uniforms bore strange markings; she assumed these were the insignia of rank.

  The General said something to Ashrael in a low voice and they both went still, acknowledging one another.

  Then the fight started in earnest. Noa’s breath caught as Ashrael made the first move, becoming a pale blur as he went for the General’s torso, aiming to throw him down.

  Tarak retaliated with a vicious punch to the ribs, causing Ashrael to backtrack.

  The fighting auras of the two warriors swirled around them, savage and powerful, yet strangely controlled. Noa held her breath as Ashrael evaded a kick to the torso, aiming a flurry of punches at the General’s head.

  One of the punches caught Tarak on the jaw, and moments later he spat black blood. He grinned, his dark lips stained with blood.

  Noa now understood why Abbey, Sera, and the other two warriors’ mates, Arin and Jia, had declined to join her in the viewing room.

  No fucking way, Abbey had told her. It will get brutal. I’ve had enough of seeing him take the blows, even if it’s just sparring. Even though he’s a nano-enhanced freak and he heals like a monster, I’d rather not see him get hurt. Not right now.

  Noa was grateful that she wasn’t the only Human on Silence. After the Silent Ones had attacked, they’d all been shipped off to Silence until the compound could be secured.

  There had been some talk that they might have to travel, but nobody had said anything conclusive to Noa yet.

  Zyara had stayed behind to look after the other SynCorp survivors, along with Abbey’s stubborn and rather intimidating aunt.

  “No way you’ll get me flying off into space and getting onboard one of their dark ships. I’m too old for that shit. I’ll keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, thank you very much.”

  Fair enough.

  Zyara had also apparently broken from protocol and requested to remain on Earth, although for what reason, Noa couldn’t possibly fathom.

  A thud reverberated through the clear wall, startling Noa as Ashrael was thrown against it, his back slamming into the window. Somehow, he landed on his feet like a cat. He rebounded, rushing towards the General. He seemed to be getting faster, and some of Tarak’s hits were starting to miss their mark.

  They were both taking a good beating, each scoring powerful blows, but whereas Tarak’s skin seemed to heal rapidly, Ashrael bled and bruised like any ordinary mortal.

  Several times, Noa had to look away when the fighting became too savage, but to her astonishment, both Kordolians were grinning, their gleaming fangs emerging over bloodstained lips.

  They were enjoying this.

  Crazy Kordolians. Their species reveled in violence; it was as innate to them as breathing.

  Impossibly, Ashrael began to move even faster, and Noa realized he was channeling his ka’qui into his body, using it to propel himself. She barely understood it, but it was fascinating to watch. Whereas the General healed faster, Ashrael moved faster, and he began to de
liver more kicks and hits, landing blows on Tarak’s torso and face.

  When it came to speed, he definitely had the edge.

  As they danced, kicked, punched, and dodged, Noa began to appreciate the differences in their fighting styles. The General was direct and brutal; he hit hard and employed several tactics she thought were rather dirty. Ashrael relied on speed more than strength, and several times he landed hits that would have instantly killed a lesser opponent, say, a Human.

  It was rather chilling to watch. He’d been trained to be an efficient killer, one who could appear and disappear without a trace.

  His ability to anticipate Tarak’s intentions was off the charts. Many of the General’s attacks were evaded before they even happened, and Noa could sense Tarak’s growing frustration.

  Ashrael was damn hard to pin down.

  They flipped and turned and ducked and grappled and hit and punched, and eventually they ended up against the transparent window. Ashrael executed some sort of brutal body throw that ended up with Tarak thrown against the supposedly unbreakable glass, his back crashing into it with a thud.

  Then Ashrael’s left fist came down, narrowly missing Tarak’s head as the General moved, sparing himself a powerful blow to the face. There was a loud crack as his knuckles connected with the window, and a split-second later his fist had penetrated the thick surface, creating a giant fissure in the glass. Shards of the clear plastic-polymer-glass-whatever-it-was material went flying, and Noa raised her arms to protect her face.

  Too late. One of the shards had struck her left cheek, leaving a bleeding gash. Slowly, she lowered her arms and raised a hand to her face, wincing. Her fingers came away bloodied.

  Her entire world seemed to tremble as she caught sight of Ashrael’s face. His eyes were wide, his features twisted into an expression of horror.

  Then he was yelling furiously at the General in Kordolian. A side-door opened, and in a flash he was there at her side, dropping to his knees.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, taking the shawl that covered her shoulders and pressing a corner of the fabric against the cut. His fingers were oh-so gentle. “Sorry, sorry.” With his left hand - his modified cyborg hand - he cupped the side of her face. His touch felt strange, warm yet cold, soft yet hard, faint static radiating from his fingers, making gooseflesh rise on her arms and neck.