As for his son’s Destaurian army—well, Errol had sown enough confusion and discord among their officers to keep them busy for a while. He saw a role for them in his plan, but it was not yet their time.
Errol wasn’t worried he’d fail. He would succeed because his purple protégés were highly trained, and each could wipe out dozens of enemies. He would succeed through deception. And through patience.
So, what new message could he deliver to either inspire his army or instill the right amount of fear in them? He withdrew a little blank scroll, and wrote on it: “My loyal children, triumph is at hand. Stay the course yet another night. Smash the skulls of those you kill, and tear out their teeth. Whoever has collected the biggest pile of teeth by the end of the week wins an evening in the origin chambers with a suitor of their choosing.”
That should motivate them, he thought. Maybe he’d visit the origin chambers himself for a break.
“Come,” he called. His messenger entered, received the scroll, tucked it under his belt, and headed off to the signal room to pass the message on to the communications team. Errol swigged the last of his second drink, and started on the third—the one that always put him to sleep.
Both Errol’s messengers and his assassins were chosen from among the top performers in the training camps, but the destinies of the two groups diverged after graduation. The assassins, who spent most of their time out of Errol’s sight, were found to perform better when fear-pleasure conditioning was applied instead of direct psychic meddling. The messengers, on the other hand, had been the subjects of constant mental tampering by the tutor at Errol’s request.
The young messenger who was hurrying down the dim corridor toward the signal room had grown up and trained with Jewel, and he knew her well. He also happened to have a serious crush on her, so when he encountered her in the corridor, delivering Errol’s evening missive became slightly less urgent.
“You’re back!” he said.
“Hi, Mudcrab,” Jewel said, sweetly. “What’s the message tonight?”
“Grandmaster’s giving away a holiday to the origin chambers as a reward for collecting enemy teeth.” Mudcrab wasn’t really supposed to, but he always secretly unrolled and read the messages he carried.
“Origin chambers?” she asked. “How exciting! Too bad neither of us is eligible. I’d pick you as my date if I won.”
“Wh…what?”
“Yeah, it’s too bad.”
“You’d pick me?”
“Yes, and you couldn’t say no!” she said. For those just coming into sexual maturity, the origin chambers, a den of pleasure where lucky couples were assisted by trained staff in achieving peak physical satisfaction, was especially appealing.
“I wouldn’t say…I wouldn’t say no.”
“Well, how about we pretend we won?” Jewel said, stepping into Mudcrab’s personal space and leaning her face close to his. “I’ll visit you tonight. I’ll be your suitor.”
“What? Don’t play around,” he said, backing up.
She smiled coyly and bit the tip of her finger in a suggestive way.
“I can’t believe this.”
“You don’t want to be with me?” she asked, easing up to him yet again and taking his hand.
“I…want to. But they’d kill us both if they found out.”
“Nobody watches us that closely,” Jewel said. “Because we’re the best of the best.”
“You’re…you’re serious?”
“Of course I am,” she said. “Do you know how lonely I’ve been the past few months? Slinking around the woods day and night, with my body cold and my lips dry from the wind? Plus, I’ve always kind of liked you.”
“You have to be playing,” he said. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, but if she was serious he didn’t want to ruin things by being too skeptical.
“How can I convince you?” she asked.
Jewel was pressing her body against his now, which excited and terrified him at the same time. The message he was carrying had become the furthest thing from his mind. She pushed him up against the wall and kissed him, snaking her arms around his waist. Jewel’s lips weren’t dry at all; they were wonderfully soft. Mudcrab lost all sense of up and down.
“I believe you,” he gasped, when he pulled away to breathe. “I’ll be off shift just after the message gets out. Meet me in my room.”
“I can’t wait,” she said.
“See you soon,” he said. Shaking, he continued on his way down the corridor.
Mudcrab reached the signal room, where several purple army engineers were manning the communications station. He handed them his scroll, and ran on to the control office to sign the log book indicating he was done with his shift.
The signal engineer at the console unrolled the scroll and broadcast the following message to the purple army:
The time has come, my dear ones, to make our final assault. Units in the north, this will take all your courage.
Tac-3 has secured the Arran castle’s courtyard, and the drawbridge is down.
Don’t assemble outside: move in as soon as you arrive, and contact Tac-3 at the northeast end of the courtyard.
All units maintain local communications silence.
Go now.
Your success will be greatly rewarded.
Mudcrab didn’t hear the fake message go out. All he could think about was Jewel and the pleasure to come. He hurried back to his room, and when he got there, sure enough, Jewel was sitting on the edge of his bed waiting for him. He locked the door, and she stood and approached him.
“Everything all right?” she asked him. “Day’s work done?”
“I really should report you,” he said. His heart was beating so hard it made him dizzy. She was well within his personal space.
“It must be so tough,” she said, sliding her fingers up and under his black shirt and untucking it from his belt all around, “meeting the grandmaster’s expectations all the time. Don’t you ever want to tell him to piss off?”
“You can’t talk like that,” he said.
She reached up under his shirt and caressed his chest. “I wonder what you’d be like if you were free from his control,” she said. “I think I know what kind of boy you really are.” She leaned in and kissed him. He shuddered, mad with the programmed impulse to sound the alarm and turn her in, but at the same time driven by desire.
“You’re such a troublemaker,” he said, breaking off the kiss. “You’re trying to break me.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m taking things too fast. But I’ve been so lonely for so long. If you’re really worried about getting in trouble. I’ll go.” She guided her hair over one ear with her finger and looked blankly aside, disappointed. “Or is it me?”
He was so turned on by her pouty motions he couldn’t resist her. He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers, and then he kissed her softly. “It’s not you. I’m just afraid,” he whispered. “You’re not?”
She shook her head.
Jewel hadn’t lied when she said she liked him. She had been fond of the boy Mudcrab had been back when he was her classmate, back when he had a different name, before all those layers of mental programming had dulled his sense of adventure.
And her genuine attraction to him made seducing him so much easier.
Whenever Errol would look toward a spot, that spot would spin away. He tried to catch up with the room with his eyes, but it was so damn elusive. Just the night before, he’d promised himself he’d find something interesting to do while he was three-drinks-drunk, before he inevitably passed out. Well, here he was again, wondering how to spend these minutes.
And then he heard the banging on the door. “What?” he called out instinctively.
Three of his soldiers entered, falling over each other in the hurry to deliver their alarming message: “Fire, Your Majesty! The trees outside are on fire!”
>
“Which trees?” he asked.
“The transmitters,” one said.
“Damn you. Damn you all! Fools, all of you!” Errol shouted.
He staggered out into the corridor and ran face-first into a wall. He started away again and knocked his nose on another wall. Walls just kept getting in his way. His soldiers offered to guide him, but he swatted them away.
Eventually, he made it down the corridor to the signal room. Alarm lights were flickering like furious lightning bugs on the communications apparatus. The engineers could do very little. Whether or not the teams outside put the fire out, the antennas hidden in the trees were already toasted.
“How did this happen? Who set the fire?” Errol demanded.
“Not sure,” one of the engineers told him.
“Well aren’t you talking to the teams outside?”
“Your message said not to use local frequencies.”
“What? No, it didn’t.” He grabbed the little scroll which was still rolled up on the console before him. As he read the false message, his lower lip jiggled with fury. “Where’s Seven-M-Sixty?” he demanded.
“Signed out, Your Majesty. He’s probably in his room.”
Errol found his way to the door and stumbled back down the bunker’s main corridor, and then he turned down a side passage in the direction of Mudcrab’s room. When his soldiers tried to stabilize him as he walked, he slapped them away again. “Get away from me, you bumbling jesters,” he said. “Go fight that fire!” They ran off.
Errol made it to the tiny room Mudcrab called his own. Finding the flimsy iron door locked, he kicked it open and it ripped from its hinges, clattering to the floor. Mudcrab was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his shirt off.
“You switched the messages,” Errol growled. “I’ll kill you myself.”
“What? They got switched? Uh…it was Six-A-Three! I swear. She must have switched them,” the boy pleaded.
“Six-A-Three? She’s back?”
“She’s…” Mudcrab pointed downward.
“She’s under your bed?”
Mudcrab nodded.
King Errol grabbed Mudcrab’s lamp, knelt down and peered under the bed. There was Jewel, her devious eyes gleaming in the lamplight. “You…little…snake!” Errol shouted. “Come out from there!” She backed further beneath the bed, squeezing herself up against the wall.
“Come and get me,” she whispered.
“What?” he asked, seriously unable to hear her.
“I said come and get me, you crusty piece of shit,” she shouted.
“You…little…” The liquor stronger than ever in him now, Errol lay down on the floor and groped blindly under the bed for Jewel.
She positioned herself, waiting for the right moment, watching him squeeze under the bed toward her. You trained me for this, you bastard, she said to him in her mind. Am I making you proud? And then she saw her chance.
Schlink! She jabbed the sword called Ivinar into Errol’s chest, and withdrew it.
At first Errol wasn’t sure what had happened. It felt like she had snapped him in the chest with a rubber cord, but soon the pain hit. He wriggled out from under the bed and rolled onto his back, gasping, clutching the spot where he’d been stabbed.
Jewel slid out from under the head of the bed, careful not to cut herself on her glowing blue blade. As she got to her feet, Mudcrab hopped between her and the dying king.
“Move aside!” she warned Mudcrab. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I won’t let you kill him,” said the boy, trembling.
“Get out of my way! He’s going to heal himself.”
“He’s our king!”
Errol shivered and went limp. His arms flopped to his sides. Blood was pooling beside him.
“Look what you’ve done! Traitor!” Mudcrab screamed.
“Dammit, Mudcrab,” Jewel said, holding the blade out before her in case Mudcrab rushed her. She really hoped she didn’t have to use it on him. “I can save you! I can save all of us. I’ve found a way.”
“Help! Help! Guards!” Mudcrab screamed.
“Quiet!” she chided. But soon, with her keen senses, she heard someone out in the passage running toward the room. Mudcrab grabbed Errol under the arms and dragged his precious monarch away from Jewel and toward the doorway. Jewel held tight to her sword and prepared to use it.
Someone stepped into the frame of the busted door.
And Jewel knew she could stand down.
It was Alessa, in full steel battle armor, which was heavily scuffed and dented. Alessa held tightly to her own glowing blue sword. A cut on her forehead was bleeding.
Alessa quickly assessed the scene. “You, get down!” she commanded Mudcrab. “On the floor! Hands behind your back!” Shaking, Mudcrab lay on his bare belly on the floor and put his hands behind him. Alessa sheathed her blade and tied his wrists with rubber restraints.
“He’s a friend,” Jewel told Alessa. “Please treat him well.”
“He’ll be one of the few survivors here,” Alessa said. “Your little friends fight fiercely. We had to kill most of them.”
“I understand,” Jewel said. She sheathed Ivinar, and then approached Errol. She knelt by him and checked his pulse. No pulse.
“Sorry I took so long. Is this your grandmaster?” Alessa asked.
“Yup. I think he’s dead.”
Alessa, too, checked Errol for any signs of life. “He is dead,” she said. “Good work, kid.”
Jewel knelt before Mudcrab, whose cheek was pressed to the stone floor. He glared at her.
“It wasn’t a lie,” she told him softly. “I really do care for you. I’ll ask them to redeem you like they did me.”
Mudcrab sighed sharply through his nose.
“I guess it’s all over now,” Jewel said to Alessa.
“I’m afraid not,” Alessa said. “There’s plenty more to do.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Others arrived to tend to Mudcrab and Errol, and Alessa led Jewel out of the bunker. On their way out, they stepped over the bodies of purple army messengers, engineers, guards and assassins. Many of them Jewel had grown up with, and some she had regarded as friends. For Jewel, it was surreal seeing them dead on the floor.
There were plenty of Destaurian dead too. The blood of both armies, splashed on the walls and pooling on the floors, mixed in silence.
Outside, the trees that had concealed the purple army’s antennae were still ablaze. The snow glowed orange, reflecting the spreading flames. Makias, using only his mind, was standing in the middle of a clearing, picking up and hurling patches of snow at the burning branches, which caused them to hiss like cornered cats.
“Who’s that?” Jewel asked Alessa.
“My boyfriend.”
“He’s too exposed.”
As soon as Jewel had said this, an ember burst brightly in a burning tree, and Alessa saw in the forest behind Makias a pair of eyes lit up for a fraction of a second. Get down! Alessa called to Makias in her mind.
Makias sank into a crouch, and a black-fletched arrow whizzed over his head. All the way down! Makias dropped forward, flat against the snow, onto his chest.
Alessa turned to warn Jewel, but Jewel had vanished.
A Destaurian guard assigned to shadow Alessa came running to defend her. Alessa couldn’t wait, though. She sprinted out toward Makias. Clink! An arrow glanced off her armor as she ran, and then several more: clink, clink, ponk! The last one hit her squarely in the shoulder, but it didn’t penetrate her pauldron. On reaching Makias, Alessa dove on top of him, shielding him. Her guard, and three other guards, caught up and encircled the pair.
Meanwhile, the Destaurian soldiers in the area were organizing themselves and calling for backup.
Alessa noticed that Makias had drawn his sword, and that the sword wasn’t glowing. “Where’s your good sword?” she asked him.
“Lent it to a man inside.”
“Fine. Take mine,” Alessa sai
d, and she carefully switched his standard sword for her honed one.
Pop! Pop! came the first return shots from the Destaurian troops. Soon the air crackled with the noise of Radovan’s powder-charged bows. The purple army sent back more volleys of arrows—some peppered Alessa’s armor, but none got through to her skin.
With her mind, Alessa pulled a convex dome of snow over herself and Makias, and she tried to tighten it into ice, but enemy arrows kept shattering it. Makias pitched in to help strengthen the icy lens, and it thickened and strengthened.
Kshhhh! A Frakker rocket exploded right above them, obliterating their frozen shield.
As the ice-dust settled, Alessa and Makias looked around. Their four guards lay dead around them, with their steel shields battered and twisted by the rocket’s impact. Dozens of purple army soldiers were now swarming out of the forest, swords drawn. But dozens of Destaurian soldiers had converged on the site to engage the threat. Alessa and Makias were going to be caught in the middle.
They stood to fight, back to back. As the armies clashed around the royal pair, Makias swung his sword wildly, lopping pieces off of any black-clad youngster he could reach.
Three foes rushed Alessa at once. Like a whirlwind, she took them on, parrying, dodging, slashing and stabbing. She enjoyed the physicality of the fray: one moment ducking to avoid a blow, and the next moment feeling her sword drive deep into an enemy’s body. With raw strength, brilliant timing, and skill, she downed all three attackers.
But as soon as they were down, there were more.
Another enemy fighter swung in at her with his sword, and clang! she stopped it with her own, feeling the impact all the way up the muscles of her arm. She kicked him in the groin, and as he bent forward in reflex, she bashed his face with her armored elbow, and then stepped in and swept him off balance. He dropped to the snow at her feet. Sensing another attacker coming at her from the left, she flipped her blade to parry that one’s sword, and then tried to stab him. His armor resisted her sword—so she tried a different spot, and then a third, finally getting her blade in between the plates of his armor and sinking it into his torso. Pulling her sword out of his flesh, she turned her attention back to the young man on the snow before her, who was trying to get up. Using her mind, she manipulated the snow so it folded over him, and then she pulled the snow tightly down, changing it to ice, crushing and entombing the young man.
The Fallen Mender Page 25
