“This is not as clear as I remember,” she said absently. There were more trees than she remembered. But that was years ago. Still, it was much clearer than everywhere else. Darius said nothing for a long moment.
“I have to apologize,” Darius said finally as he moved around a larger puddle of rain water. “You can wed whomever you wish. I should not disparage Kasidyne.” Rebekah chuckled a little.
“No, you shouldn’t. Lucky for you I didn’t tell him.” Darius nodded.
“Well, I have a feeling he already knew,” he said simply. “Men can tell when they don’t like one another.”
“I love him Old Man. I always have.” Rebekah lowered her eyes a second, almost embarrassed by how glad she was. When she raised them again, her eyes caught the distinct glimmer of steel above them in the trees. It all seemed to happen in an instant. The glimmer took form and streaked toward the center of Darius’s spine. Rebekah could only watch as the spear point stuck into his back with a thud.
“DARIUS!” Rebekah cried out, watching her bodyguard’s face contort wildly. Darius let out a hoarse cry and fell, clawing at the weapon. Rebekah threw off her blue robes and grabbed up her lancet. She knew she wasn't battle ready, but she wasn't going to get taken without a fight.
"It's actually not like a funeral march," a new voice said from the trees. Rebekah watched silently as a black clad figure dropped from the cover of the trees and unceremoniously yanked the lancet from Darius's back.
"It’s like a funeral," a second voice said. Rebekah watched a second form fall in next to the first. Considerably shorter and stockier, the pair cut a very distinctive shadow for her.
"Boy, have I been wanting to find you two," Rebekah grated. She tightened her grip on her lancet and grit her teeth. Finally, she was face to face with Rand Alquiza and Skeel Follin.
Sage practically dove through the door to his quarters and began to manipulate the wall that housed his pet project. It took a few moments, but he was finally through all of his self-made security and interfacing with the computer. It told him exactly what he thought. The object was trying to escape its magnetic prison.
"Oh no, you don't," he muttered, typing in a few quick recalibrations and hoping that would solve the problem. He watched through the plexi-glass view port as the object shuddered and became still. It was a long moment before Sage allowed himself to sit back and sigh. His reverie was interrupted as the deck shuddered again. This time, the subject hadn’t moved.
“Oh, brilliant,” he muttered. This was a larger problem than he thought.
"Sage?" a voice called through the door. Sage started the auto lock sequence, standing from his chair and doing his best to seem casual. The voice coming from the hall wasn't familiar to him.
"One moment," the wall slid closed and sealed itself behind him. Sage breathed a little easier and went to the door. The computer shushed the entry open and Sage saw Tracy there, a stern look on her face. "Miss Lesnin," Sage said in surprise. Tracy started forward, not waiting to be invited. Without another word, Tracy shoved Sage out of the way with one hand. Sage smacked into the wall, surprised as Tracy started rifling through his paperwork.
"Now wait just a second," Sage blinked just once as he said it, and his vision changed suddenly. His elven eyes, which he’d never honed before, didn't see Tracy. Instead, standing in her place was a slight, dark armored female, her black hair pulled back away from her slightly round face. Sage didn't have time to do a double take before he felt her armored hand at his throat. He let out a futile squeak as the mysterious woman lifted him into the air.
“You see too much elf-boy,” the woman growled. “Where is it?” She shook him slightly, hoping to dislodge the truth from him. Sage knew what she was after. But he kept his mouth shut. "Where?" she asked, her voice as cutting as her demeanor. Sage wasn’t about to let her know that he knew what exactly she was talking about. He blinked again, his elven vision clearing further, showing this woman in full dread paladin regalia.
"You can't have it," he croaked. The woman sneered a little, glancing about the room with narrow eyes. She looked at the wall that had sealed itself only a moment before, and felt Sage's breathing go still. She smiled.
"Thank you." With a flick of her arm, Sage flew into his bunk, bouncing and thumping against the wall. He wasn't out for very long, groaning in pain. He opened his eyes as the Dread stepped over to the wall, examining it with her hands. Sage smirked a little. He had designed a nearly foolproof locking mechanism.
"You're wondering how I could possibly break into this little vault of yours," she said, her voice icy and cold. Sage reached up for his Repeater, pulling back the bolt quietly. The woman's hands searched the wall slowly, until they met in the middle of her vision. "You can't design a trap sufficient to stop us Cortez. We will have what we seek." With a move that Sage barely saw, both tiny hands dug into the three-inch-thick metal and tore it apart like corrugated paper. Sage stood aghast as the woman stepped through her self-made portal and into the secret lab.
"Intruder. Fail-safe!" Sage barked. The lights in the room went red, and a dozen cords zipped out of the walls, wrapping the Dread where she stood. Sage got up off the bed and held the Repeater in front of himself.
"Now, if you're quite finished," he chided. “Stay still so I don’t have to shoot you.” The woman in front of him just smiled. “I’m not kidding. I will shoot you.” All Sage heard was a chuckle before she ripped the cords from the walls with a mighty yank. Sage opened fire, only to watch a dozen crossbow bolts ricochet off her armor. She glanced back at him, winked just once and tore open the console. Sage could only stand in awe of what he was witnessing.
"This is truly a prize worth protecting Sage. I commend your efforts, futile as they are." Sage could feel his heart sink. He watched in horror as this mysterious Dread reached into the now broken dome and pulled from it the object he'd been studying all these months.
“And that’s all I need from you,” she said dryly. Sage raised his Repeater again, only to see it flipping out of his grasp a moment later. She moved so quickly, he couldn’t react in time. The fist caught him right under the chin, snapping his mouth shut with such a force he thought she’d shattered his teeth. Sage tottered for a moment, and then collapsed sideways onto his bunk. The Dread smirked slightly, flipping an eyeless helmet onto her head and turning for the door. Sage rolled slightly to see her go, his eyes unfocused.
In her hand, grasping at something that simply wasn’t there was the phantom gauntlet of Noganus Xandra. Sage tried to focus his eyes, and a scintillating light danced from the fingers of the gauntlet. In an instant, his whole world went black.
The Wraith blew open three more passageways before Marcus caught up to it. The starboard corridor looked like a war zone, Azaghal having bulled and clawed its way down the hall. The hexagonal alloyed walls now had deep, uneven gouges where the Wraith had made contact. The Wraith obviously wasn't used to traveling in straight lines. Ian and the rest were helping anyone who’d gotten in Azaghal’s way, escorting officers and crew to the Infirmary. The injuries didn’t look severe, but no one knew what contact with a Wraith would do to a person.
“I’m not in the mood for a chase!” Marcus said, cutting in front of the creature. The creature shrieked in horror as Marcus brandished his blade again. Azaghal shifted right, then left, but Marcus kept the blade in front of it, cowing the creature. “And I don’t like getting tired!”
“Only a fool fights in a burning house! This ship is doomed!” the Wraith rumbled menacingly, claw-like tendrils wisping from the folds of the shroud. “You’ve already lost paladin!” Marcus knew better than that. He knew this Azaghal was afraid of something. And his sword seemed to be the key.
“I’m willing to bet that’s not true.” The Wraith seemed to cower a bit, and Marcus tightened his sword grip. "And it seems I've got the one thing that makes you cringe. Back down!"
“I will be free!” Azaghal lunged, and Marcus struck with all his speed and stre
ngth. The blade caught the left tendril of the Wraith, sending the nearly immaterial creature into a spin. The right wall buckled under the impact, leaving a gouge almost a foot wide behind. But the Wraith kept going, blowing through the double doors that led to the engine room.
“Tell me you killed it,” Donavan said as he skidded to a stop next to Marcus. Marcus glanced at his sword, sliding it into the sheath.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “I’m not used to fighting flying blankets.” Donavan grimaced. He glanced down at the floor, seeing a small scrap of shadow flopping about. “I did hit it though.” Donavan watched in awe as the tendril fought to maintain its form before it finally withered into a puff of smoke and evaporated.
“This isn’t how my day was supposed to go,” Donavan said as he checked his ammo. The others came around the curve of the hall, all huffing and puffing. They didn’t have Marcus’s stamina.
“Just what the heck is going on around here?” Ellis asked as he and the rest of the class met Marcus at the door to the Engine Room.
“The Wraith is in the Engine Room,” Marcus said simply. “I might have hurt it, but I can’t be sure. I don’t know anything about these things.” Mary produced a piece of paper from her bag and handed it to Marcus. He glanced at it and frowned.
“What I’ve seen bears out the theory Captain Dirk and I have. But the Wraith shouldn’t be able to exist away from the Falseblade. And it certainly shouldn’t be able to make physical contact with anything. It’s not supposed to have substance.” Marcus handed back the paper and turned toward the door. He hadn't read it. He didn't have the time.
“One of the things you learn real fast in the field Miss Wyllder is that nothing is ever the way you think it should be.” Donavan wasn’t wrong. Marcus stepped up to the corner of the doorway, careful not to touch the edges of the crumpled steel. The metal was black, seeming to pulse darkness into the air. The Engineering crew was unconscious all along the deck, the Wraith’s rampage leaving them all sprawled across the floor. Marcus couldn’t see the Wraith anywhere, and that bothered him.
“No Sage,” he muttered. Donavan took a glance about, trying to spot his engineer.
“He said he had a theory about the Wraith. I have to assume he’s checking it out.” Donavan didn’t look too sure. He had a hunch about trouble like this. Wherever Sage was, he was in deep.
“What do we do?” Jack asked, lifting a chunk of metal from the ruined wall, careful not to touch the blackened end. He didn’t have his blade, so a club would do fine. Marcus peeked back into the engine room and thought.
“Uther, is this the presence you felt around campus?” Uther closed his eyes, trying to feel the Wraith in the room. He took a long, slow breath and everyone watched as his fur rippled on his face. Whatever he was feeling, it wasn’t pleasant. After a moment, he nodded.
“It is and it is not. I believe I have felt more than one malignant spirit. But they are unified. They think alike.” Ian shrugged.
“Makes sense,” he said. “The thing was talking about two equaling one.”
“But Lady Safira always said that was impossible,” Mary offered.
“She was talking about math,” Ellis said, almost annoyed. “Not ghosts.” Marcus waved the two off.
“Whatever it’s talking about, the Wraith obviously wants something in the Engine Room. Uther’s confirmed it's still in there, which means it either came here to find something or it came from here.” Marcus leaned in on the five and called them into a quick huddle.
“So, what’s the plan?” Donavan asked. Marcus put his hand on the hilt of his blade nervously.
“Donavan. You, Ian and Jack are going up around the catwalk. I want you guys to take a good look around and be my eyes.” Donavan nodded, glancing at his former corporal. Ian knew almost immediately what it was Donavan was thinking.
“Mary, Uther, you’re with me. We’re going to try to draw the Wraith out. Maybe we can fool it into telling us what it wants.” Mary and Uther both nodded. Ellis raised his hand all of the sudden.
“Wait. What about me?” Marcus frowned slightly.
“Ellis, that thing went right for you. I don’t think you should go in there.” Ellis shook his head.
“But I want to know what this is all about. I need to know.” Marcus could see the pleading in Ellis’s eyes.
“Another body might be a good idea,” Jack offered, testing the weight of the club in his hand. Ellis was a little surprised that Jack, of all people, was backing him. But he didn’t question it. A part of Marcus wanted to let him come along. But he knew better than that.
“Sorry Ellis. We can’t risk it." Ellis's sullen look reasserted itself. "But I do want you to do something for me.”
Chapter 23
Crisis
“You’re a dead woman,” Rand said through his dark helmet. Rebekah could almost imagine his lips curled in a wicked smile. Rand had always been the more sadistic of the two. Rebekah leaned down to check on Darius. His vitals were nearly non-existent. He didn’t have very long.
“A lot of things in this world could kill me Rand. You’re not high on that list.” Rebekah stood, taking a quick physical check as she did. She wasn’t in top shape. But she didn’t think she needed to be. It was Rand and Skeel after all. They were two full degrees below her in Dragoon training.
“We outnumber you,” Skeel said in a dull tone. Rebekah hefted her lancet, setting her feet and tweaking her neck slightly. She could feel the nausea setting in again. But she ignored it. This wasn’t the time to get sick.
“What, two against one? Not exactly overwhelming guys.” Rand motioned to trees above him and nodded. Within seconds, ten more warriors fell into formation, circling about Rebekah and Darius. Rebekah groaned inwardly. You talk too much, girl.
“I call for a recount,” Rand said simply.
“How’s about a dozen to one then?” Skeel said smugly. They all looked wrong somehow. The armored troops seemed like marionettes, each held up by invisible strings. Their movements were jerky and strange. Each of the warriors wielded a lancet, and each was wearing black armor with a polished silver dragon on it. Rebekah had seen that symbol on a Manticore once in Horthok.
“Khasarinth the Hollow Dragon,” she groaned. It was so obvious. “I might have known. You Dreads worship the Perilisk.” Rebekah felt her hands tighten on the grip of her lancet.
“We are no Dreads. We are the Absolute Guard. The personal sentinels of the Manticore called Perilisk the Untouched. We are the Claws of Khasarinth. We do his bidding.” Rebekah knew the old legend of Khasarinth. She knew what these men had given up for power. The circle began to close slightly as Rebekah realized the trouble she was in. In that moment, she wished she’d stayed home.
Ian took point, starting up the utility stairwell of the engine room. Donavan was heading up the other side, meeting in the middle where Jack was heading. Jack was moving slowly up the main staircase leading to the core. Ian glanced about nervously, hoping the Wraith didn’t suddenly leap from the shadows like a carnivorous animal. A quick look behind him told him exactly what he thought. Marcus and his two charges were beginning into the room. Donavan was feeding reports over the ad-hoc tactical network they’d set up through Lacey. Ian wasn’t really listening to them. He knew what he was looking for.
The Engine Room was eerily quiet, except for the dull, stomach-churning thrum of the unevenly spinning core sphere. Ian didn’t know anything about airship design or core engineering, but he knew that the throbbing wasn’t right. The core, according to what Sage had said, should’ve been quiet. Even the look of it was wrong. It seemed to warp and shift as it spun. Something was seriously wrong with the core.
“Still nothing,” Donavan said over the tactical net. Ian glanced around again, seeing Marcus’s team nearly halfway between the door and the main engineering console at the center of the room. The lights started to dim a little, and the thrumming became more intense. Ian grabbed the handrail to keep from losing his balance.
>
“Bridge to Captain Dirk,” the intra ship sounded. Donavan grunted a little and answered it.
“What is it Miss Vargas?”
“We’ve been monitoring your activities from here. The ship is experiencing a massive power fall off. Something seems to be interrupting the core’s power output.” Ian looked at the core again. The spinning seemed to be slowing ever so slightly. The lights nearly died altogether, leaving only the pulsing blue light of the core to guide them. Ian blinked. He could’ve sworn he’d seen a shadow at the auxiliary console, just to the side of the magnetic confinement apparatus.
“Jack, are you near the auxiliary station on the catwalk?” Ian asked quietly, trying not to speak too loudly. Jack sounded in his ear a little louder than Ian expected.
“I’m at the top of the ladder rungs. Why?” Ian watched the shadowy form manipulating dials on the panel in front of them. He accessed his Lacey quickly. The child-like voice informed him of exactly what he suspected.
“Thermal imaging shows seven conscious people in the room Sir Sodaro.” Ian frowned.
“Marcus, someone’s tampering with the core. I can’t tell who.” Marcus looked up at the core sphere and grimaced.
“That’s not a wraith,” Mary said gratingly. Uther closed his eyes and frowned.
“Focused and with ill intent,” he said simply. Marcus tapped the comm button on his glove and frowned.
“New plan guys.”
Sage did his best to rouse himself, his mind full of fractured thoughts, images of monsters and darkness and death flooding his consciousness. Whoever that Dread had been, she was long gone now. She’d taken Noganus’s Phantom Gauntlet and had knocked him cold with a punch that could’ve caved in his skull. And whatever that flash of light was, it was potent. He’d never felt anything like it.
The Paladin Archives Book Two The Withering Falseblade Page 35
