And he gave Tris a push — just enough to put him off balance in the viscous liquid.
As Tris struggled to stay on his feet, Kreon fastened his mechanical hand around the handle of the Planet Forge, and activated his grav-staff. Slowly he began to rise, the staff’s orb drawing him upwards. The Planet Forge came with him, drifting in the fluid as though weightless.
The shadow from above reached down to meet him, and Tris realised he had to go.
The choice had been made — and Kreon, ever the master, had been the one to make it.
Damn him! Tears streamed down Tris’ face, as he forced himself back to the Portal.
All that talk of sacrifice. I should have known. But I never believed… Never thought he would be the one.
He reached the stone doorway and risked a last glance upwards, searching for any trace of Kreon. But he was gone; shadows writhed in the abyss, taking on form and definition as they grew closer. Tris had only seconds before he joined the Warden in his sacrifice.
But he wouldn’t want me to waste this gift.
A flash came from far away, lighting the void for an instant. In that split-second, Tris saw the full horror of what was reaching for him. It froze his blood, drove all thoughts but terror from his mind, and sent him tumbling backwards…
He fell back through the Portal, barely aware of the biting cold.
Ella must have been standing right by it, and she caught him before he hit the ground.
“You made it!” she shrieked, wrapping him in a hug.
“K… Kreon,” he stammered.
“Old man finally got his wish, huh?” Kyra called. She still had her swords at the ready, but didn’t seem in immediate danger.
“He’s gone!” Tris wailed.
“Hush, love,” Ella said, pulling him tighter. “We know.”
“But… but he—”
“He wanted it this way.” Her tone was sad, but calm. “He just wanted to be sure he could trust you.” Her hands tightened around his back, holding him against her.
Tears blurred Tris’ vision, and he clung to her, sobbing.
Only then did it occur to him that a battle was still raging. He let go of Ella and glanced around frantically. Lukas and Lord Balentine were back with the group, and neither of them were shooting. “What’s going on?” he rasped.
Kyra strode over. “Your new girlfriend is winning the war for us,” she said. “Actually, I think they’ve about won.” She pointed, and because the Portal sat on the highest ground Tris could see the extent of the carnage.
It was staggering.
Isolated bands of the aliens still fought, but the vast majority of them had been torn to shreds, and lay scattered in chunks around the battlefield. Engaged in what looked like the last remaining tangle of combat was a nightmare given form. Tris struggled to reconcile her with the creature he’d encountered in the undersea palace. She’d been all but invisible in her own domain, and Tris was suddenly glad of that. Had he been able to see her in all her hideous glory, it might have changed just how cocky he’d been in that meeting.
Poised above her enemies like a twisted claw, the Elder had to be thirty feet across. Where the light caught the edge of her scales, she was a green so dark it was almost black. Ridges ran along and around her five massive limbs, each of which seemed to end in a glistening spike the size of a person.
Tris stared, hypnotised, as she stabbed those spikes into body after body, skewering the enraged Siszar like chunks of meat on a plate.
He dug the pendant from his collar, still aware of its Gift-blocking power, wondering if he dared take it off whilst that monster was killing. In the end he lifted it off, if only for the freedom it gave him in communicating with Kyra. He wasn’t sure he could force out the words to tell her what had happened, but as soon as the Gift returned to him, her sympathy came with it.
He knew it had to play out this way, Tris. Don’t beat yourself up about it. This was always his plan.
Tris tried to stifle a sob. He never told me.
Yeah… that was his specialty.
Bastard!
He heard her chuckle. Yeah, that too.
Dusting themselves off, they congregated around Nightshade’s cargo ramp. Tris’ heart was heavy, but his head was starting to clear. They still had no way of knowing if this victory had really been a victory; if Kreon’s sacrifice had managed to halt the Black Ships’ assault on Earth.
If not, he’d died for nothing — and everything they’d done had been in vain.
“I’ll try to contact Oktavius,” Balentine offered, the quaver in his voice noticeable even over comms. “But I must admit, I fear the worst.”
Tris nodded. “Meanwhile, it looks like we have company.”
The great black form of the Siszar Elder climbed the ridge towards them, her talon-like limbs jabbing into the tough, rocky ground.
Tris thought about going out to meet her, but it felt too good to have Ella beside him, and his arm around her shoulders. With everything that he’d been through, he wasn’t entirely sure he could stand unaided.
The Elder seemed even bigger as she closed, towering up like a grotesque living sculpture.
Tris noticed Kyra moving away slightly, Arranozapar ready in her hands.
It suddenly occurred to him that, terrifying as this creature was, with Kyra on his side he could probably take her.
You defied me, the Elder hissed at him.
Tris tried hard not to flinch, as her limbs pierced the ground in front of him. I did not, Eldest! I killed the Skinless One for you. As your humble servant.
Humble servant? Her voice became a purr. Did you not declare yourself my champion? I should execute you for impudence.
But you won’t, will you? Long experience with Kyra had taught him to recognise when he was being teased. Because that would be a waste.
The stench of her laughter was overpowering. Tris swayed on his feet, but Ella was there to steady him.
The immense Elder reared up, waving two of her pointed limbs in the air, before planting them back in the ground. Such a pity our species’ anatomy is so incompatible, she told him. You would have made an excellent mate.
Tris squeezed Ella tighter, and wondered what she would make of such a proposal. I am mated to this one, he pointed out. She is a killer of great repute.
Of course, the Elder agreed, sounding bored. She is female.
Lord Balentine cleared his throat, stepping forward with his wrist out. A hologram shimmered to life above it, showing High Warden Oktavius, his wispy hair plastered to his head with sweat.
“Kreon!” he began. “Balentine! You have to see this!”
The view changed, as he switched the transmission to an external monitor.
“This is happening right now. We’ve been falling back all day, giving them everything we’ve got. But nothing we did was making a dent. Then suddenly, this happened.”
What they were looking at, Tris realised, was one of the legendary Black Ships. Or rather, it was a thousand-mile-long appendage, reaching out towards Earth through the wall that separated dimensions.
And it was dying.
Blistering, shrivelling up, with a strange shimmering effect just visible on its surface.
Tris stared at the holo in awe, as the vast armature seemed to collapse in on itself, shrinking and retreating, until finally it was gone. Where the greatest threat to the galaxy had once writhed, there was nothing but empty space.
“You’ve done it, Kreon!” Oktavius sounded ecstatic. “They never made it to Earth. She’s saved!”
“Kreon…” Tris started, but his throat closed up around the words.
Balentine cleared his throat and took over. Tears were streaming down his face inside the helmet. “Oktavius, I regret to inform you that Lord Anakreon was killed in action against the Black Ships. He took the battle into their dimension, where he gave his life to destroy them.”
Oktavius went still. Even in hologram form, Tris could see the blood drain
from his face. “But… how?” he asked.
Balentine shrugged one shoulder. “Beats me. He never tells me anything.”
Tris turned away from the hologram, not wanting the High Warden to see his grief. Instead, he found himself facing the gigantic form of the Siszar Elder. She was studying him, as far as he could tell.
You destroyed the demons? she asked.
Not me. It was the ‘inferior being’ that I served. He gave his life to defeat this enemy.
She crouched, bringing that hideous beak even closer. You are wise, to eliminate two adversaries at once! You will become great amongst your people.
No. He was great, Tris said, not caring how it sounded. Perhaps the greatest ever. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and swallowed hard. But I will try to live up to his example.
I once tried to live up to the example of my Elders, she admitted, her tone so flat he knew she was being honest. And ten-thousand of your lifespans have taught me this: be your own self. Her bloated body tilted down towards him, and her beak clacked. Even if that self is a feeble, human male.
She moved off, her massive limbs striking dead Siszar as often as they struck ground.
Tris thought about it for a few seconds, and decided to take her words under advisement.
He glanced at Balentine, to find the man in hushed conversation with his wrist-mounted holo.
Ella was still propping Tris up, and Lukas was hovering expectantly by the ramp.
“So,” Kyra said, coiling her swords around her waist. “I guess it’s time to go home.”
EPILOGUE
Tris stood on the bridge of the red-hulled cruiser, as it rose up through the atmosphere.
This was the eighth breeding world they’d visited, and as far as he knew, the last. Between the refugees they’d packed into the giant ship’s holds, and the ones Ella had shuttled up to the Folly, they’d rescued close to four thousand very wary individuals.
On the main viewscreen he could see a mottled green nestship; the Empress of the River of Silver Flashes had agreed to be their guide, leading them from planet to planet as they gathered up the human prey-colonies. She had an ulterior motive, of course; she was considering establishing dominance over some of these worlds, and removing the valuable livestock from them meant she was less likely to face a challenge.
Tris smiled. Convincing her to help liberate his people had been easy. Convincing her to take a navigation beacon into her nestship had been another matter entirely. She seemed to view it as something unclean, a foreign body introduced to her perfectly balanced ecosystem. But Tris had spent enough time contemplating the Skein not to risk immersing himself in it again. The mysterious web of energy held an allure that he had never been able to explain; for now, he was more than happy to leave it be.
The Empress claimed to understand, whilst clearly still not grasping the fragility of human minds.
We merely have differing definitions of the term ‘evolved’, she reminded him.
Tris managed to stop himself before he laughed out loud. The gigantic cruiser’s bridge was fully staffed by the Vanguard’s remaining crew, and they already thought him an odd choice for Captain. He was glad of them though — no way in hell could he and Kyra fly this thing.
It is too complex, and too delicate, the Empress agreed, much like yourself.
She’d been making sporadic commentary on his thoughts for a while now. Tris knew why. Neither of them wanted to mention it, but they were about to go their separate ways again. With him hoping to be invested as a Warden, and her likely to carve out a substantial niche as one of the oldest of her species, there seemed a very real chance that this was goodbye for good.
We will meet again, she predicted, finally broaching the topic. Send for me when you build your nest, and I will anoint it with my own fluids.
There wasn’t much he could say to that.
“Orbit achieved,” one of the crew announced, and Tris nodded. Command wasn’t something that came naturally to him, but he was trying not to show it.
The doors to the captain’s ready room swished open, and Lord Balentine wandered in. He’d had the chance to launder his surcoat, but no amount of washing would ever restore its whiteness. His mood was excellent though, and he’d spent the last few days trying to fill what he considered to be the gaps in Tris’ education.
“How is Oktavius?” Tris asked. He’d managed to avoid talking to the High Warden directly, as he was afraid he’d break down whenever Kreon’s name came up. Balentine, however, had been delivering regular updates.
“The fleet is dispersing,” Balentine said. “Oktavius expects to be back on Atalia in a couple of days.”
“How much did you tell him?” Tris asked. “What did he think of me commandeering Demios’ ship?”
Balentine tutted at him. “Technically Tris, you can’t commandeer anything. Not yet, anyway. But I was able to smooth over the complexities by commandeering it on your behalf.”
The main door swished open behind them, and Kyra strode in. She’d traded her glitter-pink armour — which had been trashed — for some of the civilian clothes she’d been amassing in her quarters on the Folly. Black jeans and a tank-top — in hot pink, naturally.
“Oktavius sent his regards,” Balentine continued, “and asked me to inform you that your Investiture Ceremony will take place as soon as we return.”
“Ha! Looking forward to it,” Tris said. “As soon as we’ve dropped these people off, I’m there.”
“Oooh,” Kyra said, as she came to join them. “Running with the big boys now, are we?”
Tris snorted. After everything they’d been through, it was hard to imagine that Oktavius’ new intake of Seventh-Circle Wardens would be intimidating.
Balentine strolled off to chat to his crew; he’d been looking after them since the Vanguard’s destruction, and had been instrumental in dividing them up to run the much larger ship’s systems.
Feeling oddly philosophical, Tris turned to Kyra. “How come you never became a Warden? I mean, you’ve been hanging around with Kreon for years now. All that power and authority… You never wanted that?”
She pushed him away with a hand on his chest. “Hell no! You do know what they’ll make you do, right? First, you have to survive a year-long mission into hostile space, with no weapons and an unarmed ship. Then they make you fight another apprentice to the death with your bare hands.”
“Holy shit! Really?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nah, not really. But they do make you take an entrance exam. I frikkin’ hate tests.”
Tris shook his head. Some things, he suspected, would never change.
He was fine with that.
“That reminds me,” she said, slipping a narrow box out of her back pocket. “I’ve been meaning to give you these, but I was waiting until I could do it without you snotting all over me.”
Tris felt a sudden surge of interest. He didn’t recognise the box, but there was only one reason for Kyra to make such a big deal out of it.
“What’s in it?” He tried to sound casual.
She tipped the box into her palm, and offered him the contents. The pale gem in its abstract metal setting was instantly recognisable; the forcefield-generating Aegis, Kreon’s single most valuable treasure. Tris had assumed the Warden was wearing it when they went through the Portal, but seeing it in Kyra’s palm revealed a layer of premeditation that stole his breath once more.
“He really did know…”
“Yup.” Kyra jingled the items in her palm, and Tris blinked back the tears to take another look. It took him a second to place the credit card-sized sliver of metal.
“No way! The master key to Sera’s vault?”
Kyra placed a finger on it and pushed, separating it from another identical piece of metal.
Tris frowned. “What’s that one?”
“I’m not a scientist, but going off the similarities I’m gonna say that’s the master key to Kreon’s vault.”
“Wow.” T
ris was stunned. The responsibility such a simple gift imparted was mind-blowing. There could be literally anything in there… He looked again at the two identical keys. “Um… do you know which is which?”
“Easy,” Kyra grinned. “This one’s Sera’s.” She flipped the top card over, revealing a pink circle with a Hello Kitty on the back. “I put a sticker on it.”
Tris gave her the eyebrow. “Of course you did.”
She dropped the keys and the Aegis back into the box. “So anyway, how’s tricks?” she asked.
“Ah, you know. The usual.”
“Still upset about Kreon?”
“Yeah… a bit.”
“Still freaked out that you’re turning into a monster?”
“Ha! Yeah, a bit.”
“Still beating yourself up about what you did to Demios?”
“Yeah… I guess.”
“Damn. I so wish I’d been there to see it.”
“No you don’t. It was wrong. And also, it was gross.”
She held the box out to him. “Yeah, but don’t forget; that slimy bastard had it coming. Being tortured by him is not on my list of favourite experiences.”
Tris took the box, and slipped it into a pocket of his jumpsuit. “You’re right. I mean, I know he had to die. I even wanted to be the one to do it. I just… I wish there had been another way.”
“Oh, stop moaning about it!” Kyra flapped a dismissive hand at him. “I mean, I’m not saying that crushing people’s heads is good, but…” she twitched a shoulder. “Everyone’s got to have a hobby.”
With the atmosphere behind them, it was time for their first big jump.
Tris knew it was time, because Kyra cracked her knuckles loud enough to make him wince. “Open a channel to the Folly,” he said. The snap of authority in his voice was a pure accident, but it unleashed a veritable tornado of déjà-vu. What the hell? Evidently his dad had issued that same command on several occasions…
Déjà-vu in the third person?
Warden's Fate Page 43
