Pulse: Book One of the Zoya Chronicles

by Kate Sander

  “Archers!” Tory yelled, voice of a hardened general finding its way to her people. “Clear the ladders!”

  Her archers listened and began to focus their arrows at the bottom of the ladders. Tory soon realized that it wouldn’t be enough. There were too many Sun Gods. They just kept coming, stepping on the bodies of their dead comrades, desperate to climb and kill.

  Tory scanned the battle again. Senka’s mission was to kill the King. The False King had taken power so fast and so violently that this was the Melanthios’ first and last stand. If Senka failed and the King remained alive then the Melanthios would all be killed. Senka was their only hope.

  Tory found Senka ducking, weaving; killing in her violent dance. She was making her way towards the rear of the Sun Gods to where the King sat astride a horse, crown sitting crookedly on his traitorous head. Senka was covered in gore. She stopped to wipe the blood out of her eyes. Tory saw a Sun God approach quietly behind her.

  “Senka!” Tory yelled. She was way too far away to hear her.

  The Sun God raised his sword.

  Out of pure desperation, Tory drew and fired an arrow. The shot was out of her range, but she needed to try. The arrow was guided by fear and love. It hit the Sun God in the back of the neck and exploded through his throat.

  Senka turned quickly and locked eyes with Tory, giving her a swift nod. Tory nodded back. Tory was forced away from watching Senka. Sun Gods had made it up the ladders further down the valley and were charging through the forest. She could hear their armour crashing through the underbrush behind her.

  An arrow flew over her shoulder, grazing her neck. Surprised, Tory turned and fired in a fluid motion, acting out of pure instinct.

  She saw it in slow motion.

  Her arrow was released from the bow before she locked eyes on her target. It flew through the air. Tory gasped, unable to do anything as her arrow hit a Melanthios archer in the chest.

  The archer looked down slowly, shock on her face. Tory’s arrow was sticking out of the center of her chest, still vibrating.

  Tory froze. She could feel her heartbeat in her chest. She could hear the rush of it in her ears.

  The woman dropped her bow. It clattered to the ground beside her. She looked at Tory, confusion and terror on her face. She dropped to her knees. She coughed and blood spurted out of her mouth and dripped down her chin.

  The world around Tory stopped. There was no war. There was no Senka. There was only this Melanthios woman on her knees, Tory’s arrow in her chest.

  The world came crashing back and Tory ran to the woman. The woman looked at her confused. Tory dropped to her knees as the woman fell over into her arms.

  “I’m sorry!” Tory sobbed. She was cradling the woman on the ground.

  The woman looked like she was trying to say something. Blood bubbled out of her mouth. No words were uttered.

  “No, no, no!” Tory cried desperately. She brushed the archer’s hair out of her face. The Melanthios woman had dark eyes, almost black. Tory was drawn to them. They were beautiful.

  The woman coughed blood one more time. Tory was pressing on her chest but she couldn’t stop the blood.

  “I’m sorry!” Tory said desperately.

  The woman’s beautiful black eyes went dark as she died in Tory’s arms.

  Tory sobbed into the woman’s chest. She had killed before, countless times. She’d lost warriors in battle before. But this was different.

  “I’m sorry,” Tory said quietly into her hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  Tory didn’t recognize the woman. She was from a different town than Tory was and had just come to fight in the war. But she was a Melanthios. She was one of her own.

  The dead, black eyes stared at Tory accusingly.

  “I didn’t mean to,” Tory sobbed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  “I’m still dead though,” the black eyes said back.

  “It’s war. Your arrow almost hit me. I thought you were one of them.”

  “They are people too,” the dead, black eyes replied. “You’re killing husbands, brothers, sisters, daughters. You’re killing them all.”

  “It’s them or us!’ Tory yelled at the dead woman. “It’s war!”

  The black eyes said nothing, they stared ahead, accusing.

  Dead.

  Tory heard someone scream from behind her. She wrenched her eyes away from the woman she had killed. The Sun Gods were swarming the ridge. They were killing the archers. Her people were breaking rank and running. They were dying.

  Tory needed to shut down this overwhelming guilt. She couldn’t let more of her people die. She lowered the woman to the ground and flipped her quickly to her stomach. Tory told herself that it was to get the woman’s arrows but she knew it was because she couldn’t stare at the cold, dead, accusing black eyes.

  Tory stood and started firing into the approaching Sun Gods. She stabbed one through the neck with an arrow then drew and fired, killing a Sun God who was hovering over an archer.

  The archer turned to smile appreciatively to her when a sword exploded through his chest. Tory yelled something incoherent and shot the offending Sun God in the face.

  “Archers!” she yelled through the chaos. Her archers were scrambling away into the forest, leaving the Melanthios to die in the valley below. “To me!” she yelled. “Come to me!”

  The fleeing archers nearest to her heard her and turned. They started to work together, firing in unison at the approaching enemy, gathering together in a group. Other archers started to join them. They rallied around Tory and began to regain their line. They needed to keep control of the cliff.

  Tory knew that she should have felt pride in her people. But she only felt a crushing sense of guilt. She killed and fired with the rest of them, but her head was with the cold, dead eyes.

  “I would have helped,” the black eyes whispered in her ear as she killed.

  Tory ignored them.

  She led the rallied archers to the edge of the valley and looked desperately to the rear of the Sun Gods. She watched the scene unfold. Senka was standing face to face with the King.

  Tory watched her best friend die.

  Senka attacked the King with a fury and a speed that Tory hadn’t known was possible. Senka’s electrified Pulse powered short swords flickered out and died one at a time as the King landed devastating blows to Senka’s forearms.

  Senka stepped back after the onslaught. She was gasping. Tory could tell that she was in pain.

  Senka steeled herself and launched another attack. This time, though, she was slower. Tory could tell that the King was inhumanely strong. He landed a blow to her stomach that folded Senka in half. Senka flew back and landed hard.

  “Get up!” Tory yelled.

  The battle was still raging around her but Tory didn’t care. She was completely absorbed in the scene in the valley below. She didn’t realize her archers were gathering around her, protecting her. She could only watch her friend.

  Senka stayed down. Tory saw that her breath was coming in short gasps. Before Senka could get up, the King attacked again. This time he stomped on her chest. Senka tried to block but the King was too strong. She took the blow directly to the chest.

  Tory couldn’t believe it. Senka wasn’t getting up. The King tried to stomp on her again but Senka aimed a kick to his knee.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Senka tried to crawl away from the King. The King grabbed her and flipped her over.

  Tory could feel her heartbeat in her chest as she stood there, powerless.

  The King raised his sword over his head.

  The world around Tory stopped.

  She watched as the King started the killing blow.

  Suddenly, Senka sprang up. She thrust a sword through the bottom of the King’s jaw and out the top of his head in an explosion of blood.

  Tory’s heart leapt. Senka had done it! It must have all been an act!

  When Senka fell back down, Tory’s he
art fell with her. It wasn’t an act. She watched her ever strong, ever loyal, best friend’s chest stop moving. Tory stood a hundred meters away as Senka died alone.

  Tory dropped to her knees again. She was stunned.

  “I died alone,” Black Eyes tittered in her ear. “I died alone and you didn’t care. I died alone because of you.”

  The King’s death had an almost instantaneous effect on the battlefield. The Sun God’s closest to him started to look around nervously and break rank, fleeing the battle. They weren’t sure what they were fighting for in the first place and with no leader they were aimless. Word travelled fast and, to the cheers of the remaining Melanthios, the rest of the Sun Gods fled.

  Tory didn’t care. She could only watch her dead friend lying motionless on the battlefield.

  “You killed me,” Black Eyes laughed in her ear. “You let her die. You killed me. You let her die. You killed me. You let her die.” Black Eyes chanted it, over and over. A bodiless voice yelling in her ear.

  Grief and guilt ripped through her.

  Tory put her hands over her ears and screamed.

  Part I

  “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” – G. K. Chesterton

  1

  Senka

  October 19, 2023, 05:07

  Location: Somewhere near Vanavara, Russia.

  Senka was in prison.

  Senka hated being in prison. It wasn’t the first time. She doubted it would be the last. This time, however, she had put herself there. It was technically more of a private dungeon than a prison but that was just splitting hairs. It certainly looked like a prison. Four stone walls with a metal door inlaid, metal bed in the back corner. This prison was luxury compared to her last time incarcerated, back in The Other Place. This one had an old, torn and stained mattress on the metal bed frame and a working toilet instead of a hole.

  Sighing, she stood up from the ratty mattress and nimbly hopped onto the bed. She took careful note of her surroundings from the new vantage point, being careful to check the corners of the cell for any inconsistencies. She wasn’t very tall, only five foot six, so her head was still a few inches from the ceiling. She was very lean and muscular. She kept her exceptional form hidden under jeans and a plain grey sweater with YALE written across the front in bold lettering. She wore her medium length hair in a pony-tail, with one piece tucked behind her ear. She wasn’t beautiful, nor was she ugly. She fit in anywhere, making her perfect for her current employment.

  Satisfied there were no cameras or bugs in the cell, she hopped back down off the bed. She could chat in private. Amanda was probably going crazy, Senka hadn’t checked in in over a week. Senka sighed and dug a hand into a liner of her jeans, finding a small ear-piece hidden within the fabric. It was discrete and couldn’t be seen when lodged deep in her ear canal. She pulled a small, skin-toned sticker out of her jeans as well and stuck it onto her neck. The tiny microphone would allow her to speak normally to Amanda without distortion.

  She turned the ear piece on, popped it in her ear and was immediately assaulted, “Senka what the hell! You haven’t checked in in a week. You could have been dead! You could have been captured! You could have…” Senka stopped paying attention to Amanda’s voice, she let her rant and rave and continued looking around the room. She couldn’t see any weaknesses, so she’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.

  “Senka! Are you even listening to me?” Amanda Nguyen’s squawk brought her back into focus.

  “Nope, not at all,” Senka replied, still scanning the room. “You were droning on and I lost focus. What were you saying?”

  “Why haven’t you checked in? I was about to send a unit in to find you,” Amanda’s voice was tense. Senka smiled, she knew Amanda was probably grating her teeth. Call her petty, but Senka thoroughly enjoyed pissing Amanda off whenever she could. Added a little joy to her day.

  “I was busy. You sent me to this frigid nation to track down drugs. I tracked down drugs. I just do it my own way,” Senka started bouncing on the balls of her feet and cracking her neck. “Sidenote: Russia is colder than Canada any day. I don’t care what we think. Russia wins.”

  “I sent you to report on Viktor Sidorov’s activities. That’s it.”

  “So the fact that I’m currently in the dungeon of his high tech, previously impenetrable fortress in Siberia means nothing?”

  Amanda stopped talking. Senka pressed the button on her jeans. The tiny GPS tracker would now give Amanda her location.

  “So do you want me to escape and download his files to the hard-drive I snuck in? Or does that not…”

  “Shut up,” Amanda said sharply, not letting her finish. “We will need to have a meeting. A very. Long. Meeting. I expect a full report, with every. Single. Detail.”

  Senka rolled her eyes. Her boss, Amanda, had no sense of humor. “Yes, yes. Just like every mission. So have you tracked my location yet? Or do you need to get Carter in to turn on the computer for you?” Carter was Senka’s handler, usually on the other end of her ear-piece. She liked him better.

  “By the way,” Senka added as she checked her watch, stirring the pot even more, “why are you still at work? Isn’t it like ten at night there?”

  “I will have a chopper there to extract you from the roof in forty-three minutes,” Amanda replied, completely ignoring her. “You better be there.”

  Senka rolled her eyes, “I’m just saying, you need to find balance in your life. It can’t always be about work.”

  “Oh by the way,” Amanda snipped, “your brother called.” Senka winced. Amanda knew how to exact revenge in the pettiest of ways. “He was wondering if you were going to be in Winnipeg on Sunday for your mother’s birthday. I told him I would get you to call him as soon as you were done your shift at Starbucks.”

  Senka put her head back and sighed. Cracking her neck again she let out a long shriek, followed by, “Help! Oh God help me! My stomach! Why am I here? Oh God it hurts so bad somebody help me!” in her loudest, whiniest, sniveling co-ed voice.

  “Really?” Amanda piped up in her ear, “the sick prisoner gig? Should I be sending that chopper for two days from now?”

  “Hundred bucks says it works,” Senka whispered, laying down in the center of the cell in the fetal position, back towards the door. She made sure she was within sight of the peep-hole.

  “You’re on,” Amanda said. “Carter should be back from dinner soon. He might want in on this too.”

  Senka shrugged. Carter would be on her side. He always was. He was the brains, she was the brawn. Senka shrieked again, a high-pitched, cutting scream. “I’m dying! I don’t know where I am! Why am I here, oh god help me please! Help me! Please, someone, help me! Why am I here?”

  “They have probably heard that a million times. What makes you think…”

  “Shut up,” Senka whispered, “they’re coming.”

  Senka had indeed heard boots coming down the hallway. Two sets, marching slightly out of time.

  “Oh God help me! What am I doing here? I think I was drugged. Oh God my stomach! Somebody help me!”

  “Shut up!” A man’s voice yelled, distinctly American accent. So Viktor hired mercenaries, Senka thought, that is interesting. This is bigger than I thought.

  “Help! Are you American? I don’t know why I’m here! I think someone drugged me! My stomach, oh God my stomach!”

  She heard the peep-hole slide open. Senka tensed her muscles. With a pleading sob she wracked her body like she was crying or vomiting. She heard the American on the other side of the metal door sigh and say, “We have to shut her up before the boss gets here. He likes his bitches quiet.”

  “Doesn’t like them hurt or drugged,” the second man replied in English thick with a Russian accent. Senka heard the peep-hole slide closed. The last time she broke out of prison she had spared the Queen’s, Jules’ and Vigo’s lives because she needed their help. These men wouldn’t b
e as lucky.

  “Look she’s quiet, maybe she’s dead. I don’t want to be the guy to tell the boss,” the American said. The Russian must have acquiesced because Senka heard the heavy bolt on the outside of the door slide open. She loosened up her shoulders and let the men come into the room. She kept still as they crossed towards her and circled to see her face. One nudged her with a boot, the other bent down to get a better look. They were dressed in cargo pants and black military grade jackets. They had toques on. One had an M16 draped across his shoulders, the other a Glock 19 on his hip. These men were well armed. Not very smart though, she thought when they came in without their guns raised, definitely didn’t take me as a threat.

  They would die for that mistake.

  They didn’t even have time to register that they had been duped. Senka was fast, faster than anyone. A remnant of her time in The Other Place. She struck out with her foot to the carotid artery of the bending man. She assumed he was the Russian, he was hulking, at least six foot six, with hair so blond it was almost white. The shot to the throat dropped him to his knees, eyes wide. Senka used his body as leverage and launched herself off the ground and, grabbing on to his shoulder, kicked the other man, a brunet, in the center of the throat. The kick crushed his windpipe, causing his tall frame to fall backwards, his head making a loud crack as it hit the concrete floor. He gasped for air a few times, but air couldn’t get to his lungs and he died. She turned back to the blonde man and sunk in a chokehold. He gasped and scratched at her and she held on until he passed out. She lowered him quietly to the ground.

  She closed the door behind them. The lock was an old-fashioned bolt system and she wasn’t concerned about locking herself in. She quickly stole the Glock from the blond Russian man, all of his ammo, and his knife. She left the dead brunet his M16. He was laying directly on top of it and she didn’t want to spend the time untangling it from his body. Armed, she felt more like herself. She hated when a mission needed her to abandon her own weapons such as this one had. She always felt naked without them. The Glock felt awkward in her hands, she preferred her Sig Sauer P226. The last three years, ever since she woken up from her coma, her Sig had been by her side.