Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  At that, something broke in Kyra. A roar she didn’t know she was capable of making welled up from inside her, and she launched herself at Evie.

  It was exactly what the assassin had been waiting for. As Kyra’s sword arm came up, Evie stepped inside it and struck at the elbow. The sword flew from fingers gone suddenly lax, and Evie’s follow-up blow slammed into Kyra’s chest like a steel ram.

  She staggered backwards, one arm flailing for balance, and crashed to the ground.

  Evie stood over her, a tight smile on her face. “A little disappointing, I have to admit. But legends so frequently are. You know what would make it better? If you begged.”

  Her gleaming metal arm gave a click, and a broad blade extended from it. Sunlight bounced lazily off it, leaving streamers of every hue in its wake. Evie moved a step closer, and the brilliance of the blade’s tip was almost too bright to look at. “No begging? You’re sure? Nobles are usually the worst. No spine.” Evie’s eyes glittered with something like lust. “But you’ve got a spine, Kyra. I might even keep a piece of it.” Then she laughed, a sound so discordant it hurt Kyra’s brain. She leaned forward. “You want to know something? I’ve never killed a princess before. I bet you look just the same on the inside.”

  She raised the blade.

  Kyra didn’t have a whole lot of options. So she drew her remaining pistol from the small of her back and fired.

  Evie twisted out of the way just in time, the blast of energy sizzling across the front of her suit. Kyra got one more shot off as she scrambled to her feet, then abandoned the weapon — just as a white-hot blade sliced it in two. The assassin stooped to pick up one of the pieces, moving so quickly she was a blur. One of her glowing blades had disengaged, allowing her to hold the remains of the pistol up — and crush it in one shiny silver hand. A contemptuous sneer rode her face.

  “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother. You can’t hurt me with toys, Kyra.” She patted her chest, where the pistol’s shot had left a barely-discernible mark. “Ceramine fabric, they call it. At least I dressed for the occasion.”

  That hurt.

  Kyra drew herself upright. “Say what you want… about my weapons,” she summoned a snarl. “But don’t you dare… diss my wardrobe!”

  The grenade she’d palmed whilst getting up vibrated in her hand to signal imminent detonation. She tossed it right at Ella’s feet, and launched herself backwards.

  Her shoulder hit the ground, but she wasn’t nearly coordinated enough to turn it into a flip. She lay on her back, gasping for a second, then managed to roll onto her side.

  A greenish cloud had enveloped Evie. The grenade choice had been lucky dip; evidently she’d picked a toxin bomb.

  The assassin was not impressed.

  Kyra’s pounding heart counted less than five beats before Evie strode from the cloud, wafting the air in front of her face with one hand. In her other, she carried the grenade; wisps of toxic green gas still curled from the canister.

  “My lungs filter nerve agents, too,” she said, as though their conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “I must say, I’m glad you’re trying, though. It would be so boring if you just stood there and let me poke holes in you.”

  She crossed the remaining distance between them, and stood looking down on Kyra. “Grovelling in the dirt? This pose suits you. Surely you haven’t run out of tricks already?”

  Kyra saved her breath. She didn’t have a lot of it left. But even dazed, she remembered the lessons of her youth. She’d discovered early on that aggressors always expected something new…

  They rarely expected you to pull the same trick twice in a row.

  So as Evie extended those pesky blades, and stepped forward to skewer her, Kyra flung herself away with as much violence as she could muster.

  Leaving behind the inferno grenade she’d been lying on.

  The explosion was deafening. A great gout of fire leapt up, blinding her instantly. She felt the heat like a physical impact, slapping against her armour hard enough to roll her over again. Super-heated air scorched her nostrils; she blinked furiously, trying to regain her sight whilst forcing herself up to her knees.

  No way she can shrug that off! Damn it… need my swords…

  A quick recovery was beyond Kyra. Her head spun, playing havoc with her sense of balance. Getting to her feet was impossible. As her vision cleared, she peered into the blaze, hoping to see the shrivelled corpse of her enemy. The fire was hot, but short-lived; already it was flickering lower, dwindling…

  Going out.

  Revealing Evie standing behind it.

  The assassin’s outfit was ruined. Kyra could at least take comfort in that. The ceramic-whatever-it-was seemed to have cracked, falling away in chunks. Livid red flesh could be seen underneath, and Kyra could smell burning flesh. One side of the assassin’s face was raw and glistening, and most of the hair on that side was gone.

  But the look in her eyes was pure murder.

  The pain of her injuries only seemed to feed her hatred. Evie waited until the flames had died down to boot height, then stepped over the spent grenade. Her blades gleamed like fire themselves, their pure white brilliance so bright Kyra was transfixed.

  There was nowhere to go. Her last reserve of strength was used up. Fight-or-flight had kept her alive this long; now even that ebbed away, leaving Evie’s image to waver and flow like quicksilver as the assassin came to kill her.

  Sharki. Kyra clung to the thought, knowing it would be her last. I tried.

  And from somewhere above her, a streak of light blazed out like a comet. It connected with Evie, throwing her backwards to land in a heap. The sound of fresh pain filled the air between them, a melodic wail that made Kyra’s heart sing. Rainbows exploded all around her as her mind gave up its grip on the present, finally soaring out on the wind with the dancing, shimmering colours.

  When she came to, one of the huge lizard-things was standing over her.

  She recoiled in horror — only to find that her body refused to obey.

  The beast reared up, shrinking and swelling, its great head blocking out the sun.

  She groped for her sword, but her fingers were stiff with pain.

  The lizard’s shadow engulfed her in darkness. “Kyra!” it said.

  She stared, open-mouthed. “You… can talk?”

  “What? What the—?” Two hands came up. Human hands, they wrapped around the lizard’s head twisting it to the side. Twisting it… off? “Kyra, it’s me!” One of those hands darted in, striking her on the shoulder. Grabbing her. Shaking her.

  And sunlight caught the edge of the face that loomed above her, painting it in familiar colours. “Lukas?”

  The big man glanced around. “No, he had to go home. I’m his identical twin. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Evie…?” she gasped, not comprehending the transition.

  “Now she did go home. Or she went somewhere, anyway. A little skimmer burst out of the shed when I was on my way down. I thought I’d got her pretty good, but I guess she’s above my pay-grade.”

  The words were coming too fast for Kyra. Suddenly the fog in her mind was a palpable thing, a dark cloud that she could see obscuring her thoughts. “I can’t… I don’t…? It’s the Bliss…”

  “Bliss?” The big man mumbled something under his breath, and the shadow retreated. Kyra lay back, feeling the rays of the sun stab into her like daggers. Her whole body was on fire. She could barely move at all, and even trying caused waves of pain and nausea. “L… Lukas? I think I’ve been… poisoned.”

  The big man was back, his shadow providing welcome relief from the sun. “Poisoned, you say?” He held something against her arm. “This one’s for the Bliss. The whole shed back there is full of drugs and anti-venoms. What did she give you?”

  “Not she… what. Plant. Like a… tree. Sharp… sharp vines.” The pain was growing now, even as she felt her mind clearing. Lukas must have found an antidote to the hallucinogen, but she hadn’t
realised the Bliss had been helping her cope with the pain.

  Lukas had gone again, and while she waited for him to return she tried to analyse what had happened. How she’d got here was a mystery — along with where ‘here’ was. Some kind of supply depot? Evie’s words came flooding back. Graduation ceremony… This was one of the Priesthood’s secret training bases.

  Thank Sydon it was empty.

  They must only use it at certain times. Otherwise we’d be long dead.

  Something bothered her about that. Then she gasped.

  Dead! Sharki!

  She tried to crane her neck, but she’d have to sit up to see him; there was no way she could do that. None of her muscles were functioning. Even breathing was difficult, and she knew a moment of panic as she felt the stiffness in her chest. She was being paralysed, some effect of that damn plant, probably intended to keep its victims still while it digested them. The memory of that spongy, glistening interior made her shudder. Or it would have, if she could move.

  She heard Lukas trudging back, his armour clicking and whirring as he came. A fully-enclosed suit, it must have provided significantly more protection against the environment than her ruined pink outfit. “Sharki!” she gasped. “Where’s Sharki?”

  Lukas squatted down beside her, momentarily hiding the sun again. “I’m sorry, Kyra.” His voice was gentle. “Evie left him here, but… I think he’s gone.”

  “No…” she rasped. She tried to move, summoning every ounce of will, but it availed her nothing.

  Lukas held up two glass vials. “Okay. We’ve got…” he squinted at the labels. “Tree-creeper, and… Strangle-vine.”

  “Sssstrangle. Vine.”

  “Alrighty. Now I’ve got to warn you, there’s a fifty-fifty chance this is concentrated toxin instead of anti-venom. It looks like a first-aid station in there, but it’s an assassin’s playroom so who knows?”

  Kyra tried to nod, but couldn’t. She blinked her eyes instead.

  Lukas took an old-fashioned needle from a kit he’d unrolled across her stomach. With practiced ease he speared the bottle, drew up the amber liquid, and injected her through one of the rents in her armour.

  “Sharki,” she gasped. “Please.”

  Lukas looked doubtful. “I’ll check him over, but it doesn’t look good.”

  Kyra spent the next few minutes consumed by worry.

  But the anti-venom was fast-acting. She began to feel her heart pounding and fluttering, and her breathing eased. Shortly after that, her skin began to tingle all over. It was excruciating, but she could ignore it; her mind was clear enough now to find the stillness that she’d devoted years to mastering. As her body receded, she reached out with the Gift — and found, alongside the warring concern and triumph that denoted Lukas, another tiny point of light.

  “Sharki!” With a wrench of will, she forced herself up into a sitting position. Another wave of sickness came, and she held her breath until it passed. Then she worked on getting her knees under herself, and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  “Lukas. He’s alive. I can feel it.”

  “Yeah…” the big man turned to her, registering surprise to see her on her feet. “He’s… he’s hanging on. But he’s not got long.”

  Kyra let out a moan of anguish, and tottered forwards. Lukas sprang up and raced over to catch her elbow. Wrapping a metal-clad arm around her waist, he half-lifted her across the courtyard. When he deposited her next to Sharki she almost fell on top of him. Lukas held her shoulder in a grip like a vice, lowering her slowly to the ground.

  She reached up to caress Sharki’s stubbled cheek. His hair was mostly steel grey now, she noticed, though so crusted with dirt and blood it was hard to tell. “I’m here,” she told him, stroking the side of his face. “I came for you.”

  Sharki made the faintest of sounds — a tiny hiss, the telltale intake of air into his lungs. “Streaks,” he whispered, not bothering to open his eyes.

  “Yes! I’m here,” she repeated.

  “Huh.” This time he did open his eyes, raising his head a fraction so he could look at her. “Really is you. You look… like hell.”

  “But I made it!” Tears were running down her face now. She ignored them. “I came to get you out of here.”

  “Streaks… Kyra.” He took a shuddering breath. “Take care of… the boys. Will you?”

  “You can take care of them yourself,” she chided him. “Soon as we get you fixed up. You’ll be back in the thick of it.”

  Somehow, he managed the ghost of a smile. “Ha. Maybe not. But you’ll be fine.” His eyes twinkled, and for a second his old mischief came alive in them. “Oh Streaks,” he said. “I always knew… you’d be the death of me.”

  And his head sagged forwards.

  Kyra didn’t need the Gift to tell her the truth.

  He was gone.

  She collapsed against him, holding his ruined body tight, and let the tears flow.

  Lukas stood by the whole while, keeping his distance. For a wonder, the big lug didn’t try to interfere. She was grateful for that. But his watchful hover was fraying nerves that were already too raw to touch.

  “What?” she snapped, finally. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to rush you, but we’ve really got to get out of here. The Priestess got away, and I don’t think we should be here when she comes back.”

  Kyra was too exhausted to negotiate. “I won’t leave him.”

  “I know. And I won’t ask you to. I could probably carry you both with this armour, but I’m afraid I might need my hands.”

  It was close enough to a joke that it earned him a glare. It also prompted her to ask him about something that had just occurred to her. “How, Lukas? How the hell did you survive out there?”

  He shrugged. “I did a few tours on jungle worlds. Some are better, some worse, but the rules are usually the same; find the nastiest thing you can, kill it and wear its skin. That way, most of the lesser nasties leave you alone.”

  “Wear its skin? Eurgh.”

  “Tell me about it. The smell is the worst bit. But you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, right?” He moved out of sight, and she devoted herself to holding Sharki’s head against her. She couldn’t believe he was gone; it was like some terrible nightmare, and at any moment she expected to wake up. The bizarre drug-trip she’d been on only contributed to the feeling of unreality. It was too much; it couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t.

  Lukas returned, offering her a rifle. For a few seconds she just looked at it. Then she pushed Sharki gently away, so his head rested against the back of the chair. His eyes were mercifully closed; she didn’t think she could have coped with seeing the life gone out of them. Even though he’d meant it as a joke, she knew his last words would always haunt her; I knew you’d be the death of me. He’d said it to her so many times in the past, it had become a thing. Now… it had turned out to be a prophecy.

  Lukas jiggled the rifle slightly, and she reached up to take it.

  “It’s still got a full powerpack,” he said. “I doubt she’ll be back soon after the hit she took, but just in case.”

  Kyra looked up at him, seeing him clearly for the first time. A heavy dragon’s head sat atop his helmet, with a great cloak of scales running off it down to his ankles. He was right; it did stink. It also looked disturbingly moist on the inside. The powerful jaw of the beast, which now flopped comically from side to side as he moved his head, was as long as her thigh. It was the same species she’d fled from into the Bliss-flower meadow. Her memory got all screwy after that, but she’d never forget those dagger-like teeth. Lukas’ prize was a smaller specimen, but it must have been twice as tall as he was. Smaller arms, ending in savage-looking claws, dangled by his shoulders.

  “Where’d you get that thing?”

  Lukas grinned at her before lowering his visor. “It was mooching around outside the shuttle when I opened the door. So I strangled it.”

  Kyra’s jaw fell open. Before she c
ould think of a follow-up question, he turned to leave. “Wait!” she called after him. “Where are you going?”

  “To get the shuttle.”

  “You’re going back out there?”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

  “But… I mean…” She shook her head. He was obviously a good bit more capable than he’d been letting on. The bastard. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you even fly the shuttle?”

  He flashed her that grin again. “Ah, how hard can it be?”

  She spent the next while staring at Sharki in a state of shock. Some people looked peaceful in death; he just looked beaten and abused. Worn out. She recovered her solitary Arranozapar from where it had fallen, and used the impossibly sharp blade to cut his bonds. She caught his body as it sagged off the chair, and lowered him to the ground. At least she’d get to take him home. Back to… where? Outcrop, she guessed. The hollowed-out asteroid had been his home for the last three decades. The ‘boys’ he’d referred to were the mercenaries under his command, many of whom he considered closer than brothers. But as far as she knew, she was his only family.

  Hardly any time seemed to have passed when she heard the whine of jets, rising to a roar. Lukas brought the shuttle in low, skimming the buildings, and executed a smart one-eighty before dropping smoothly into the centre of the courtyard.

  Show off.

  The ramp lowered straight away, and Lukas came down it a few moments later. He’d abandoned his lizard-skin coat and left his helmet aboard; obviously Kyra wasn’t the only one who found the things claustrophobic.

  She would have liked to help him with Sharki’s body, but she could barely stand unaided. With her mental focus shredded by grief, the pain in her limbs had returned full-force. It was all she could do to stay upright. Still, she was determined not to stagger. Clutching the rifle, more for its potential as a crutch than for defence, she followed Lukas into the ship. Sharki looked like a child in the big man’s heavily armoured embrace.