Tris moved away from the foot of the ramp to give them space, and Kyra slotted in beside him.
“Blas always said to aim below the beak,” she said, looking through her scope.
“Which one? Tris quipped. “I can see about a thousand!”
Balentine and Lukas already had Planet Forge halfway down the ramp, the old Warden straining with the effort. Tris glanced at him, torn between offering to help and remaining vigilant; when he looked back up the Siszar were flooding in from all directions, close enough to shoot.
Holy crap! They move so fast. Shouldering his rifle, he blew several ragged holes in their front line. But he could see straight away that it wouldn’t be enough. Like the telepaths he’d fought on Admiral Benin’s flagship, these Siszar cared nothing for their losses. Injuries were simply ignored; Tris saw several of the aliens take blasts that would have fried a human, but they rushed on unimpeded.
More of Demios’ former servants piled in from above, each of them snarling their defiance as they flung themselves into battle. But they were little more than speed-bumps, slowing the advance in places but not doing nearly enough damage to halt it.
Tris risked a glance back; Balentine had given up, taking the rifle from his back and blazing away at the aliens. Lukas held the Planet Forge like the body of a loved one, staggering forward under its weight. The powered armour kept him moving, planting one foot at a time — he was halfway to the Portal, and closing with every heartbeat.
But the Siszar were closing, too. The impacts from the adolescents were spread out across a vast swathe of territory, and knots of fighting swirled and eddied in the middle distance. But the main swarm of Siszar had picked up their pace, perhaps scenting the blood of the human trespassers.
Tris snapped off as many shots as he could, firing on full power to cause as much damage as possible. Beside him Kyra did the same, whilst Kreon and Balentine had reached the Portal and were defending it from the far side.
“Tristan!” Kreon’s voice echoed above the pitch of the blaster fire. “It is time!”
Shit!
Tris stepped backwards, cycling his spent powerpack for a fresh one, and kept his rifle blazing as he fell back towards the Portal. It meant abandoning the shuttle — not that cowering behind its armoured hull would have helped them much.
Kyra held her ground a few seconds longer, then turned and sprinted past Tris. He felt the heat of her blasts as she took up shooting from behind him, but the horde of Siszar boiled closer, relentless. It was rapidly approaching time to switch to close combat weapons.
At which point, we’ll be dead in under a minute.
The speed and aggression of the monsters coming for them was not something they could withstand.
Tris kept moving and firing, moving and firing, the lessons Kyra had drilled into him finally coming to fruition.
But for every target he put down, hundreds more streamed in.
As he passed Kyra, she retreated in step. Their circle was shrinking, with the Portal at its centre — but there was no escape for Kyra that way. Her psychic talent was a death sentence if she crossed that threshold. Lukas and Balentine could risk it, if the alternative was being torn apart, and Ella could too but…
Where the hell is she?
He got his answer a moment later, as Nightshade’s thrusters whined to life. The shuttle rose a few feet, and Tris crouched ready to throw himself flat.
She’s leaving? His traitorous mind threw every insecurity he’d ever had into one big pot, and stirred up the only answer that made sense. She never wanted me. She wanted the Folly.
It was a ridiculous leap of logic, but in that microsecond between rational thoughts it all seemed so horribly clear.
And then Nightshade’s guns blazed to life, laying down a withering hail of energy that cut the front ranks of Siszar to ribbons.
“YES!” His exultation disappeared into the noise of her blasters, as Ella hosed the area with laser-fire. The ship-mounted weapons packed a punch their rifles could never compare to, and she used them to maximum effect. A few volleys blew great chunks from the horde, as the aliens refused to flee or dodge. But Ella couldn’t manoeuvre too much with them on the ground, and her lines of fire were limited. The Siszar poured in from every angle, covering the distance so fast Tris could scarce believe his eyes.
Too late, he realised a group had flanked them; he emptied a powerpack into them, but they vanished around the shuttle’s far side.
Nightshade’s cargo ramp, which Ella must have left down in case they all decided to abandon their positions, was her downfall. The gnarled Siszar threw themselves towards it, their limbs spreading out to wedge against support struts and fuselage. A second later they were inside, moving with the same ferocious speed that had allowed them to get so close in the first place.
“NO!” Tris yelled.
Nightshade dropped three feet to the ground, bouncing off her landing skids before settling at an awkward angle. Tris broke from his position to run for the cargo ramp, which had bitten into the ground not far away. His mind was alive with images of the hulking aliens tearing into Ella’s fragile body — but Kyra’s grip on his arm brought him up short.
He spun, ready to scream at her to let him go — but she wasn’t looking at him. He followed her gaze back to the shuttle. Ella rolled out from underneath it, rising smoothly and sprinting back to them.
Tris was still shaking with panic as she reached the relative safety of his side. “How—?” He looked into her jade green eyes.
“Underneath,” she explained, pulling the swords from her hips. “These models have service access.”
Tris didn’t have time to express his relief, as two big Siszar leapt from Nightshade’s ramp and charged towards them. He got a pair of shots off before dropping the rifle. The glaive was in his hand before the gun hit the ground.
But the Siszar were quick too, and each of them outweighed Tris several times. He slashed at a limb, sending its tip flying, and recovered fast enough to block a second strike with the haft.
He couldn’t spare any attention for Ella, as she faced off against the second alien armed with nothing more than a pair of short swords…
Then Kyra was there, Arranozapar flashing. In a sinuous dance of balletic precision, both aliens were thoroughly diced.
“Go,” she said, not taking her eyes off the incoming wall of beaks and scales. “Sort your shit out. I can handle this.”
It was a lie; Tris knew it the instant it fell from her lips. She was under no illusions about her chance of survival.
But lying was one of Kyra’s two favourite hobbies.
The other one? Kicking ass, and looking damn fine while she’s doing it.
I’ll always remember her this way, he told himself.
If she read that thought, she didn’t make any comment.
He turned and pounded over to Kreon. The Planet Forge sat on the threshold of the Portal, with Lukas and Lord Balentine beyond it, both still blasting away with their rifles.
None of them will live through this, he realised. But then, neither will I.
Ella was still beside him, using the rifle he’d dropped to snipe at the closest attackers.
“Don’t wait for me,” he told her, suddenly seeing the bigger picture. “Kyra and Lukas — get them out of here.”
“You think I came all this way to cut and run?” She didn’t even look at him. “I’ll never leave you, Tris.”
No! He wanted to rage at her. You don’t understand! But he knew there would be no convincing her.
Instead, he took a last long look at her. A slimline helmet hid her luxurious mass of curls, but the bodysuit still emphasised her delicate figure. Grenades filled out her waist; the two black swords were magnetised to her thighs.
God, she was beautiful.
But the Siszar were swarming in from all directions. There were simply too many of them; if any of Demios’ bunch still lived, it would be a miracle.
“I love you,” he
said, wishing he had just a few calm minutes to tell her more.
This time, she did spare him a glance. “You too,” she said softly. “And thank-you.”
And that was all they had time for.
Ella snapped back into a firing stance, as the tide of insanity rolled closer. Any moment now, it would be sword-work.
Kreon met his gaze, and reached out to touch the monolithic stone.
The inky blackness within the frame rippled, then began to churn.
Time seemed to slow, as the darkness took on a life of its own. In his mind’s eye, he could see the battle from above; the clear pocket around him, amidst a sea of violence and bloodshed. The newly-activated Portal, glistening with malice. The swirling knots where the Empress and her followers fought on, their savage joy eclipsing all other emotions…
And the lethal wave of monsters, that would engulf his friends at any moment.
It’s what I’ve been looking for all my life, he realised. A group of people like this. That care enough to fight for one another. To die for one another… too bad it’s the end.
Then icy fingers enveloped his mind. He gasped, nearly dropping to his knees. A vast, cold presence loomed closer; old beyond his measure and impossibly alien, yet still its rasping voice dripped with amusement.
Such drama, for one so small! But none of you will die this day.
Reflexively, Tris looked up — to see hundreds, maybe thousands of nestships streaking down from the sky. So many they blotted out the sun, their silhouettes huge and bulbous, some trailing tentacles longer than the ships themselves.
And in the midst of them all was something Tris could never have imagined. A vast chunk of angular black stone, it looked nothing like the others. As big as ten nestships, but spikier and less organic, light glinted off its jagged surface. It was hideous to look at; a great black spider carved from solid granite.
There was only one being who warranted a ship like that.
Eldest One? You came!
How could I not? A feast to end all feasts? The greatest slaughter that my people have ever seen? You certainly know how to entice a lady.
And the nestships plunged into battle, ploughing great furrows through the frenzied horde.
Roars and shrieks pierced the air once more, as the biggest Siszar Tris had ever seen sprang from their vessels, smashing into their brethren with a ferocity that bordered on rapture.
It was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
But Tris didn’t have time to stay and watch.
With a last glance around the others, he nodded to Kreon.
The Warden tapped his collar, and Tris remembered the pendant. Grabbing it from its compartment, he dropped it over his head. He had to crack his helmet seals to get it snuggled in against his skin; luckily the atmosphere, though thin, wasn’t poisonous.
Then he took one end of the Planet Forge, hefting it by the handle, and stepped backwards through the Portal.
Cold assailed him, but only for a moment. He’d closed his eyes automatically, but he opened them to see a dim light filtering through the fluid that surrounded him. The Planet Forge was much lighter all of a sudden — and on the other end of it stood Kreon, staring around him like a kid in a candy store.
Tris took stock of their surroundings. Most of it was familiar; bare rock underfoot and the heavy, compressive feeling of immersion, making his limbs slow and sluggish. The doorway they’d emerged from looked much the same from this side, but there was another, identical structure a short distance away. And more — as he turned his head he saw Portals everywhere he looked, seemingly scattered at random.
I saw this before. A wide plateau with many doorways… It was below us when we came through from Oracle.
He tried to get his bearings, but quickly realised that would gain him nothing. Even if he was able to find the Oracle Portal, and was prepared to risk everything by stepping through it…
That’s not why we’re here.
He’d always known that this was a one-way mission.
“The fluid applies an even pressure,” Kreon said, his voice crackling over their inbuilt comms. “That supports our theory.” By way of example he released his grip on the Planet Forge. Tris followed suit, and it sank reluctantly to the ground.
Kreon walked around it, and gripped Tris by the arms. “I want to thank you for this. Only through you, through your actions, has this become possible. Your father would be proud… as am I.”
Tris felt a lump growing in his throat. Stepping through the Portal had saved him from having to say tearful goodbyes to the others. Trust Kreon to make things difficult.
“You’re welcome,” he mumbled.
The Warden moved a few steps further, studying the Portals. “Built by a species older than the Kharash,” he pointed out. “Loader’s people, perhaps?” He sighed, “I would have dearly liked to know. Where did you first see the beast?”
Tris jerked his head upward.
Kreon craned his neck, and was quiet for a time as his gaze roamed the murk above them. Then Tris heard a sharp intake of breath.
“What’s wrong? Can you see it?”
“Your eyes lack the requisite filters,” Kreon replied, his voice filled with awe. “If you could see it as I do!”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“Indescribable. In the lower wavelengths, it’s… no, she is a thing of majesty.”
“The… Devourer?”
“The oldest living inhabitant of our universe. Ancient beyond comprehension. Too vast to exist anywhere outside this place… and yet too large to be contained by it.”
Tris felt cold all over, as the fluid leeched his body heat. Even armour seemed to provide little protection from the chill.
“You might not want to get too far from the Portal,” he warned. “Last time, when the creature came for me, I nearly didn’t make it back.”
Kreon gave him a long, measuring glance. “You are correct, Tristan. This is far enough. The Planet Forge must be in direct contact with the beast for this to work; if she comes to us, so much the better.”
Huh. You know it’s a bad day when getting snacked on by a mythical monster is the best-case scenario.
And yet, that was precisely his plan. The Planet Forge could only be activated by touch; once that happened, in this environment, there was no escape for its wielder. Kreon had been preparing him for this ever since they’d met. The Kharash DNA — which even now was running rampant inside him, turning him into who knows what — would allow him to control the device.
One life, for everyone on Earth. And everywhere else, for that matter. Not a bad deal after all.
Kreon was watching this play across his face, so Tris gave him a nod to announce his readiness.
In return, Kreon inclined his own head.
Guess I’ve finally earned the old man’s approval.
The dim light above them flickered, and Kreon glanced up. “Your prediction proves accurate, Tristan. Already I can see movement; I believe the beast has sensed our presence.”
Tris followed his gaze, and through the gloom he made out a long, sinuous shadow. It was growing closer. “We’re out of time,” he said. He reached for the Planet Forge and gave one handle an experimental tug. “You need to get out of here before it takes me. Just remind me which one of these is the on switch!”
He recognised the appropriate sigil of course, but if there was ever a time for stupid jokes, this was it. His throat closed over, and he steadied himself against the smooth metal of the Planet Forge. “One more thing.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, as the light around them dimmed. “Tell Ella, I… I don’t know. Just tell her something. And keep her safe for me, will you?”
The gaze Kreon turned on him contained emotions he never thought he’d see from the Warden. Gratitude… sincerity… and respect.
“Go home, Tris,” he said quietly. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Tris did a double-take. “What?”
Kreon drew his g
rav-staff, and made an adjustment to it. “This is my fight. It always has been. And I intend to win it.”
“But… but I don’t—”
“We have precisely one chance to accomplish this.” The Warden grinned “And I don’t trust you not to drop it.”
“No!” Tris protested. “That’s why you brought me! You’ve needed me for this all along!”
“I needed an apprentice, Tris. And I needed a replacement. These are dark days for the Wardens, and you will be there to help guide them back to the light.”
“I’m not ready! Even Kyra knows I’m not ready. There’s something wrong with me, Kreon. I’m not normal.”
Kreon gave him that look again. “Congratulations! That is the primary prerequisite for the job. There is no real secret to being a Warden, Tris. Just one governing principle, which has kept me alive for the last three centuries: Surround yourself with the very best people you can find. Like Kyra, and Blas… and you. That way, their triumphs are also your triumphs.” Humour glittered in his eyes. “And you have someone to share the blame.”
“But…” Tris groped for something else to say. It was all happening too fast. He’d been ready to stay here, giving his life to save everything he’d ever known. Or, he’d been as ready as he could be. Leaving Kreon behind instead just felt wrong. The Warden was too important to lose. Too wise. Too powerful.
Whereas Tris himself was just a carbon-copy of his dad. And a damaged one at that.
A freak…
Kreon needed to know.
“I never told you about—”
“No,” the Warden agreed, “as was your prerogative. Keeping secrets is part of this life you are now bound to. But there is one thing I must ask of you.”
“What?” Guilt and relief warred inside Tris. He hated the way he felt. Hated himself for even considering it. Hated Kreon for putting him in this position. “What do you want?”
Kreon ignored his tone. “I would like you to tell Àurea…” he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Tris saw pain. “Tell my daughter that I’m sorry. And that I love her very much.”
Warden's Fate Page 42
