Hunter (The Hero Rebellion 0.5)

by Belinda Crawford

  Subria jerked upright.

  'Temple!' The name snapped though the foyer, a laser driving away the last of the ring's magnetic pull.

  'Stop playing with my recruits,' the same voice said.

  'Ursula!' The man's – Temple's? – smile changed. 'How nice to see you.'

  Instructor Bayard didn't waste a word, but something radiated off her with every snap of her boots. Not anger, exactly, not disgust either, but something else, a sense that reminded Subria of a predator stalking larger prey, like a skunk-wolf pursuing a pea-dragon.

  Wariness.

  Subria shifted her feet. Bayard's watchfulness settled in her spine, making her look at the scientist, at Temple, with sharper eyes.

  'No hug?' The scientist spread his hands, teeth gleaming.

  Bayard crossed her arms. 'Just get on with it.'

  'Of course, of course.' Temple turned, his hands coming together, not quite rubbing with glee. His gaze caught Subria's, seemed to pick her out of the recruits and held on. Then again, he might have seen Erebos wrapped around her neck.

  Nevertheless, Temple's grin stretched to its original cheek-splitting size, and he gestured them to move towards the big lift doors at the back. Subria had the notion that Doctor Temple looked at her deliberately, had sought her out of the crowd. The thought made her shudder, and for a second it was as if a worm slid out of Temple's eyes and into her soul. A prayer was whispering from her lips, her hand starting to make a cross over her chest, before she clenched her fist and chided herself for letting her imagination take hold.

  Erberos shifted, the soft warmth of his tail tightening around her biceps.

  Temple's attention turned away, and she knew that he hadn't seen Erberos before, that the 'adder had only now lifted his head out of the concealment of her hair, by the alarm that stole across the doctor's features. It was there and then gone, replaced by a considering look that slithered through her insides.

  'Follow me, then.' Temple gestured behind him, and was it her imagination, or did he speak directly to her? 'Into the bowels of the Farm we go.'

  A shiver ran down Subria's spine.

  The lift opened, and for several shocked seconds, Subria's brain struggled to believe the evidence of her eyes. A forest spread out before them, a dozen paces of pale steelcrete separating the lift from a swarth of grass so green it hurt her eyes. The grass disappeared into a line of trees, thin trunks and spindly branches reaching towards a blue sky.

  Her classmates brushed past her, out onto the half-moon of steelcrete, murmurs of wonder rippling between them. She followed them out and turned, taking in the lift, standing all on its own amidst the intense green, following it up and up and up until it disappeared into the sky, blue studded with fluffy clouds.

  She should be panicking; the thought was clear as a bell. She should be holding her breath and running for the safety of the lift before the spore that saturated Jørn's lower atmosphere infested her lungs.

  Take a beat. Her dad's words rang in her memory.

  It was probably already too late, another, sane part of her pointed out. Panic would make her breathe harder, draw more toxin in, and besides… Instructor Bayard wasn't wearing an enviromask.

  Her gazed sharpened on a hint of static rippling through the perfect clouds.

  The holograms were good, really good, she thought as she brought her attention back down. It would have been better if they'd muted the colours and tweaked the enviros to produce a breeze, added the sweet scent of grass and the dustier one of wet soil. If they had, she'd have doubted her sanity, been reaching for an enviromask, or, like Bank, dashing for the lift, before she got Pollen poisoning.

  Instructor Bayard stepped aside as Bank hit the lift, frantically stabbing the controls, terror in the frantic looks over his shoulder.

  'Come on!' He screamed the words, and Subria wondered if it was at his classmates or the lift's closed doors. They opened, and he dashed inside, jabbing at the controls there. 'Come on,' he yelled again. 'Before we all get Pollen poisoning!'

  'Uh.' Canavan stepped forward, his hand outstretched and face twisted in an expression that was alarmed but sheepish at the same time, as if he too had experienced the moment of panic that gripped Bank in its talons. 'Bank, it's just a—'

  Instructor Bayard held up a hand, forestalling him, and glanced around the set of the recruits. 'Does anyone wish to join Recruit Bank?' No one moved.

  Bank stopped jabbing at the control pad, and his eyes widened to saucers in his pale face, his mouth dropping open, and Subria guessed logic was finally taking over from the blind rush of adrenalin.

  He started to step out of the lift, but Instructor Bayard pushed him back.

  'That's a fail, Mr Bank. See you at the shuttle.'

  'But—'

  The doors closed.

  Subria stared at them, at the way they reflected the holographic forest, capturing it under the milk-white skin of the plascrete and bouncing the scene back.

  That had been… Unexpected. Strange. Worthy of consideration. She stroked Erebos's tail, wrapped around her bicep.

  Something wasn't right here, and it was more than Doctor Temple's ring.

  Bayard crossed her arms. 'Temple, I believe you can dispense with the… ' Her mouth twisted with distaste as she gestured at the forest.

  The doctor beamed. 'Yes, of course.' A click of his fingers, the huge ring encasing his index finger flashing. 'Time to get to the main show.'

  The forest vanished, and the urge to duck hit Subria so hard, her hands were halfway over her head before she checked the movement.

  Embarrassment surged up her cheeks, and she scowled, even as she darted looks at her classmates to check if any of them noticed her nerves.

  A sheepish glance from a half-crouched Canavan told her she hadn't been the only one, while a smirk from Tyvian had her cheeks flaming brighter and her scowl deepening.

  She straightened, pulling the ends of her jacket down and lifting her chin.

  Where there had been trees and sky, there were now off-white walls and a ceiling that stretched high overhead. But none of that was what captured her attention. No, that was all for the twelve huge striders waiting behind the doctor.

  Five different species of the riding companions waited next to their handlers. The pea-dragon was the smallest, with its long graceful neck and sleek, scaled body, half-covered with brilliant plumage. Its back would only come up to Subria's breast bone, even if its head towered over her.

  The sternards, on the other hand… There were five of the great beasts, each one a tower of muscle and fur, their chests platted with heavy scales that ran under their bellies and crested their blocky heads, running from the tips of their big black noses to the ends of their stubby tails. They loomed over their handlers and made the dober-shepherds, the same height but sleek and lithe, seem small.

  'Recruits.' Bayard's voice rang through the silence. The instructor stepped out in front of the group, into the centre of the semi-circle made by the stablehands and striders. 'Riders do not pick their companions, at least not in whole. Whether or not you walk out of here with a strider at your side is not up to you, but to the stablehands and companions beside them. Your test starts now.'

  The recruits scattered.

  Subria took one stumbling, half-step forwards before her gaze caught on the companion standing at the end of the curving line, apart from the others.

  Erebos growled, too low for Subria to hear, but she felt it, running through her blood, turning it cold.

  No other human noticed, but the ruc-pard did.

  The blue-grey animal swung its gaze to Subria.

  Her heart froze. The animal was huge, taller than the sternards, but where they were mountains of muscle, the 'pard exuded danger and death. Its blue-grey coat shone under the lights, gleaming in shades of silver and violet, while its black hairless tail swished from side-to-side. Wicked claws were sheathed at the end of its six long, muscular legs, and unbidden came the memory of how they
looked soaked in blood, how they tore flesh.

  The animal gaze caught Subria's, deep and dark, pulling her forwards—

  Erebos hissed, the sound jerking her out of the 'pard's gaze.

  Air shuddered into her lungs, and she spun away, staring blindly in the opposite direction, fighting the memory of a dark, dead forest and blood. It rang in her head, the sickening crunch, the hot, metallic scent.

  Erebos hummed, his tail wrapping tighter around her bicep. The prick of his claws bringing her attention back to him.

  His forepaws were propped on the leather pad over her shoulder, lifting himself upright on his forepaws while the rest of him remained draped around her neck.

  She concentrated on breathing, on Erebos's tail wrapped around her arm, his paws kneading her shoulder, the rustle of his wings. She focused on all of that, using it to push the darkness away, behind the thin shield of denial. Prayed it would hold.

  Instructor Bayard was watching her, the older woman's expression considering. Subria imagined the dark gaze peeling back the layers of her skull, peering inside and prying out her nightmares.

  She looked away, caught a glimpse of Doctor Temple disappearing down a dark corridor, and fell into huge caramel eyes set in a broad blunt face. Subria forgot about the scent of blood and decay, about the ruc-pard, and saw only the honey-coloured sternard.

  Her feet moved of their own accord. One moment she was in front of the lift, the next she was surrounded by the musky scent of fur and the warmth radiating from the sternard.

  'This is Yaara.' A woman Subria hadn't seen spoke. 'But I don't think you two need an introduction.' The handler grinned at Subria's outstretched hand, the one she didn't remember lifting.

  She snatched the limb back.

  'Sorry,' she said, forcing herself to look at the woman, even though everything in her itched to stroke Yaara's big, hairy nose.

  It wasn't just rude to touch another's companion without permission; it was dangerous. She knew that well enough; Erebos wasn't shy about sinking fangs and talons into those stupid enough to forget. Like she'd just done.

  And yet, she couldn't help reaching out again, wondering if Yaara's fur was as soft and deep as it looked.

  'I just…' Her attention drifted back to the sternard, and she heard rather than saw the smile in the handler's voice.

  'I get it, kid, but you're safe enough with this girl. She wouldn't hurt a fly.'

  Her breath caught in her chest as the sternard reached back, dipping her great blocky head, angling it so Subria's hand slipped behind her ear. The breath left her chest, and her heart stopped as her fingers sank into Yaara's pelt. It was softer, warmer and thicker than… than—

  Yaara butted her in the chest.

  From somewhere far off, the handler laughed and said, 'Breathe, kid.'

  Subria took a deep, shuddering breath, the sweet, warm scent of Yaara's fur soaking the air.

  Erebos slid out from under her hair, a sleek shadow resting his forepaws on her bicep, his double wings half-mantled, his neck arched and all four eyes locked on Yaara.

  Subria held her breath, thought the handler did the same.

  The sternard rolled big brown eyes, almost as big as Erebos's head. The strider could eat the little flyer in one bite and pick her teeth with the shards of Subria's bones, if she wanted. The only companion more dangerous than an angry sternard was the blue-grey ruc-pard in the corner, the one whose gaze she could feel boring into her back.

  Carefully, Subria started to pull away, feeling the loss in her bones as keenly as the embarrassment for letting herself get carried away, for not thinking. If Erebos decided to attack—

  The flyer crooned and, quick as a linch-adder, leapt from Subria's arm to wrap himself around Yaara's head and rub his jaw between her ears.

  She snapped her mouth closed. 'I think he likes her.'

  'Yeah.' The handler grinned again. 'Well, congrats, kid. That's got to be one of the fastest bondings I've ever seen, although I will admit, when that flyer came out from under your hair, I thought we might have a problem—'

  Pain exploded in Subria's ears.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Subria dropped to her knees.

  She had no breath to scream. There was only the pain in her head, drilling through her ears in a high-pitched whine, digging through bone and skin until it reached her brain. It split, lightning under her skull, wrapping around her brain with electric fingers, digging into the grey matter like it was searching for something.

  What? She wanted to ask. What do you want?

  She'd have given anything for it to stop, just for a second, a heartbeat. Half a heartbeat.

  Distantly, she was aware of Yaara's handler crashing to the ground, of Erebos taking flight, talons leaving rents in her jacket.

  She couldn't think. There was only feeling left, only the pain, that excruciating lance digging and scraping and searching some more.

  Her sight was fading, the stables blurring at the edges, going white as her entire being narrowed down to the sound, to the pain. There was nothing else, no room for anything else. The sound was in every bit of her, under her skin, in her blood, bound to the pain, twisting and turning until she couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.

  It was in her DNA; her genetics changing, the molecules splitting and reforming, making new patterns, and she knew that for the rest of her life, however long that was, the screech would equal pain.

  There was no stable anymore, no grass or steelcrete, no handler passed out by her side or honey-coloured sternard in her face. Just the inside of her eyelids. It took several moments for it to sink into her pores, for her to recognise it. She heard nothing, not the beat of her heart, the harsh draw of her breath. Nothing.

  It was... beautiful. Heavenly.

  In the pit of her being, something clicked.

  After the silence, the sound rang through her skull. Loud. Sharp. The vibration shook her bones, shivering her skin. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. Other sounds came with it. The thump thump thump of her pulse, the drag of air through her nose and into her lungs. The ear-shredding screech.

  Except it didn't shred her ears anymore, didn't bring pain. It just...screeched. A low-pitched siren on the edge of her hearing, the distant sound of nails on chalkboard, twitching her skin.

  It was nothing.

  And yet...there was something under her skin, a vibration to counter the noise. It shivered and danced, mixing with the screech, reaching for it and becoming something else, something powerful.

  Subria blinked, vision clearing, walls and floors coming into focus, sensations pinging on her consciousness. The hard floor under her knees, leeching warmth from her bones, the trickle of sweat down the side of her face. Her hands, palms pressed to the floor. The taste of copper on her lips, the sticky, cooling puddle in the spread of her fingers, bright red and shiny. A matching drop formed on the tip of her nose, the liquid she'd thought was sweat rolling into a thick, heavy ball before falling in slow motion.

  Subria breathed, a great shuddering gasp, and now the sweet, salty taste on her lips made sense.

  She shot to her feet. Stumbled as she backpedalled.

  Blood, a swath of it spilled across the white floor.

  How—? 'Oh, God.'

  The prayer rang in her head as her every neurone froze at the sight of Yaara's handler.

  The woman sprawled at Subria's feet, eyes and mouth open, her throat ripped out, a bloody mess of red meat and the silky, translucent gleam of tendon.

  Vomit burned Subria's throat, exploded out of her mouth, landing in a doubly sickening plop in the blood, drawing another heave out of her stomach.

  Bent at the waist, she heaved a third time. Tears pooled in her eyes. She waited for a fourth, and when nothing came, she wiped her mouth, trying to ignore the sticky strings of congealing blood mixing with the stomach acid and spit on her sleeve. Wanting to ignore it, but still, some part of her needed to know.

  She dragged a hand across h
er cheek, through the warmth she'd though was sweat. Her hand came away bloody.

  Another wave of nausea rose from her gut, but Subria swallowed it.

  Slowly, careful not to slip in blood, she turned.

  Bodies littered the stables, human and companion alike. She thought most of them moved, small muscles twitching in their faces, limbs jerking, chests rising and falling, and no more pools of blood.

  Pressure lifted from Subria's heart, made it easier to breathe, even if that breath wanted to shudder and jerk, to tear out of her body on a sob. She fought it, wrapped her arms around her middle and squeezed tight.

  Take a beat, little tiger. The memory of her dad's voice, clear and warm despite her visor's echoing comms, steadied her.

  'Take a beat,' she whispered to herself. 'And think.'

  Something had knocked all the humans out, but… there weren't enough companions lying on the floor.

  The pea-dragon was there, half-covering Tyvian with its wings, the spideruck next to it, and there, the black and tan of the dober-shepherds, and next to them the great shaggy hides of four sternards… But no ruc-pard.

  She turned around all the way, trying not to look at the woman and her pool of blood.

  And no Yaara, neither hide nor hair, only bloody paw prints the size of her head, leading away.

  Panic bubbled along with the acid in her gut, while nightmares played at the edges of her memory. She said another prayer under her breath.

  She needed a rifle. The thought was still ringing in her head when a shadow moved in the corner of her vision.

  She spun, nightmares momentarily transforming the stable into a long-abandoned park, populating it with the slim trunks of trees, branches denuded of leaves, covering the floor with a layer of grass and dead foliage that crackled under her feet.

  The shadow stepped out of the hallucination, and for a moment the sharp muzzle and bloodied fangs filled her vision.

  Subria scrambled backwards.

  Her sight cleared, the old park giving way to the clean, bright lines of The Farm's stables, the bloody muzzle emerging out of the darkness becoming Yaara's broad, blunt head, lips pulled back from her teeth, her eyes liquid pools of madness.