Vontaura

by James C. Dunn

  He looked at her. The smirk disappeared. He said nothing and began to walk faster. Aíron gazed in disbelief as he slithered past a passing man and, in the blink of an eye, lifted from inside his jacket pocket a small, leather pouch. She shuffled along, mouth gaping, and followed him down the street at twice the pace.

  ‘What was—?’

  ‘We need money,’ he said.

  ‘But you—’

  He took her arm and pulled her into a shadowy corner. The rain fell heavier and Aíron felt her hair soak through. ‘Where we’re going,’ he said. ‘It isn’t nice. You sure you want to?’

  She nodded, sniffed.

  ‘Good. Because I’m going to need you.’

  Despite the situation, Aíron found a small smile creep into the corner of her mouth. He needed her.

  Justus took her hand again and led her down a nearby alley, lit by blood-red fluorescent lights. She felt dizzy, tired, cold. She realised it had been hours since they had eaten.

  At the end of the path of blood-light lay a large opening. Four men dressed smartly in black stood outside. The ground continued to shake beneath her.

  At the entrance a large man held out his arm. ‘You regulars?’

  ‘M-hmm,’ Justus said.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘I just said so, didn’t I?’

  ‘Hey, do I recognise you?’ a second sentry probed.

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘You sure? I could swear.’

  ‘One of those faces.’

  ‘They all say that.’

  Justus laughed. The sentry smirked, staring Aíron up and down. He winked at her and said, ‘Two?’

  ‘Two,’ Justus repeated.

  Her heart raced. Had he needed her simply to get inside?

  The large man continued to watch her. ‘Slot?’ he said.

  Justus held out the stolen pouch and produced a small, circular card. The sentry took it and placed it through his belt, which flashed green. He nodded and stepped aside.

  As they walked past the guard, entering the opening and descending the tall flight of stairs that followed, the source of the vibration became clear. Music – loud as a vessel and as powerful as a violent airstream – beckoned her in. He led her down a mist-ridden crevice, her hand held in his, and they emerged in an underground level, packed with people moving and dancing strangely to the music which now pulsed through Aíron to the point where she felt sick.

  Justus gripped her hand tighter and dragged her past a wall of dancing bodies. Past a long, multicoloured bar they moved, and it seemed everyone she passed knocked into her as though they meant to. He pulled her through a set of double-doors and there down another flight of steps. Where was he taking her? Better yet, why were they even here? It was now apparent to the young girl just why Dimal hadn’t wanted to come.

  ‘And just where are you two going?’ a black-suited man, bald and brutish, demanded, stepping from the shadows, half way down the stairs. ‘Turn back and don’t come down here again.’ He was not asking.

  He reminded Aíron of the guard almuits she had had back in the grounds of her old home. Except those canines could be controlled.

  Justus didn’t move. ‘Is he here tonight?’

  ‘Turn back and get the fuck out,’ the almuit said, lifting his jacket to reveal a gleaming weapon at his waist. A series of flickering gold teeth set in his large jaw completed the picture.

  ‘I need to see Ditton,’ Justus said.

  Aíron glimpsed a further two men appear behind them: two men that had stood at the main doorway. Two men who also carried gleaming pistols. She squeezed Justus’ hand, but he ignored her and repeated, ‘I need to see him. Tell Jules Ditton that Antal Justus is here.’

  A hand touched her shoulder and she was dragged back up the steps. Justus said nothing and allowed himself to be pushed up too. ‘Big mistake coming down here,’ one growled at Aíron.

  ‘Oh yes,’ the almuit said, breathing down her neck. ‘You wait ‘till the boys get you and your friend outside.’

  ‘Ignore them,’ Justus said. ‘I’ll stamp the rest of his teeth from his jaw before they lay a hand on you.’

  The men laughed in mockery. Aíron gulped. The almuit took out his pistol and propped it up against her captain’s forehead.

  ‘Ritanick, stop!’ a voice called from the bottom of the steps.

  ‘What?’ he barked.

  ‘Bring him back down!’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because I said so!’ the other man spat, running up after them. ‘Quickly!’

  Aíron watched Justus smirk at the Almuit, before reaching across for her shaking hand.

  ‘No no,’ the man said. ‘He only wants you, Justus. She stays here.’

  ‘If she doesn’t come, I don’t.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Aíron said, straining to keep the fear from her voice. ‘I’ll wait up here for you.’

  Justus hesitated. He had needed her to get inside, but now she would help by staying out of his way. She nodded and smiled weakly. He smiled back, disappearing down the cloudy steps and out of sight.

  ‘Back in there!’ the man behind her snarled and she found herself forced back into the thunderous, flood-filled room. She stepped back and stood outside the double-doors.

  ‘You can’t stand there!’ he said.

  ‘Who says?’ she cried above the clamour.

  He stepped forward and backed Aíron into the crowd before continuing up and out towards the entrance. Knocked back and forth and down to the ground, she slowly found her feet, looked around, and made for the entrance. It took forever, but as she reached the misty corridor, a scream called out. Dark figures moved past her, the glint of metal masks unmistakable through blinking bursts of light. They knocked her aside like they would a child. Backed into the wall, she shuddered. ‘Oh no.’

  TWENTY-ONE

  THE CONSTANT, IRRITATING rapping of Noah’s fingernails on the vehicle’s plastic windows quickly became too much for Dimal. Already fretting about her decision not to go with Justus to see Ditton, she couldn’t help but relive what he’d said to her at his mother’s grave. She didn’t want to believe it. The reassuring voice in her head, however, was not enough to dissuade her of the truth in his admission. She reminded herself that Antal Justus had not always been the man she now knew.

  ‘Will you stop that!’ she said to Noah, who recoiled farther into the back seat and sat still with his hands on his lap.

  A group of men and women staggered past. I could use a drink myself, she thought. She was considering following Justus when a loud thump shook her in her seat. ‘Noah, will you—’

  But his hands remained on his lap, his head tilted up, eyes wide with fear.

  Before she could react, the front window broke inwards. Covered in glass, Dimal was pulled from inside, dragged across the bonnet, and the thrown into the road.

  ‘Noah!’ she cried.

  Screams erupted from the passing women. Dimal shuddered at the sight of three cloaked figures stood above her. One jumped on top of the vehicle. Another moved for the window. The third reached within and pulled Noah out, tossing him onto his back beside her.

  She reached for her blaster only to remember that she’d left it on the passenger seat. The three figures, faces covered by metal masks, turned eerily and slowly towards them. Noah clambered to his feet, but Dimal sat. They could take her if they wanted. Or kill her. It made no difference anymore.

  ‘Adra . . .’

  Just get it over with.

  ‘Adra, look!’

  Dimal closed her eyes. Waited. Three echoing booms followed, and she opened her eyes to witness all three thrown far across the street and through the nearby building.

  Noah whimpered to himself. Dimal understood what had happened, though she still found it hard to believe. Standing, she staggered forwards and gazed up at the man kneeling on the top of the vehicle. Old and panting and holding tightly a spiked silver sceptre, he stared back, and nodded.

/>   Her mouth fell open. ‘You!’

  ‘Take a seat.’ Jules Ditton offered Justus a chair. ‘I said sit.’

  Justus sat, legs apart and hands resting upon his thighs. He scanned the room which, though low-lit, didn’t completely conceal the six bodyguards positioned in the shadows.

  Ditton took his place before a grey-marble piano and proceeded to play, tenderly and talented. Justus said nothing, keeping his head facing forwards but allowing his eyes to search the room for a means of escape. It would surely come to it. It always did. But there was nothing. No way out.

  Minutes passed. Justus watched Ditton, who didn’t look up from the piano. He boasted a neat black suit which only made his brawny build more noticeable. A newly shaven face shone almost as much as his hairless head.

  The melody continued. There would be no point in beginning the conversation; if he played it that way he wouldn’t be down here long. Jules Ditton started the conversations here, nobody else. It was his club, and Justus knew more than anyone that he was risking his life by his very being here.

  A bead of sweat dripped down his head. It was taking too long.

  ‘I’d have thought the amount of times you do this, you’d be good at it by now,’ Justus said, surprising even himself with his desperate attempt at audacity.

  The playing stopped. His heart thumped quicker. Then again, it could have been the pulsing tremor coming from the room upstairs. Ditton opened his wide-spaced, severe eyes and brushed his hand over his bare head. ‘Say it again,’ he breathed.

  Justus winced. ‘I said I’d have—’

  Bam! Ditton punched the piano keys with both hands. ‘You have some nerve coming back here!’ he screamed. ‘A whole lotta’ fuckin’ nerve!’

  Justus stood. ‘Now Ditton, I—’

  ‘Where is she, ‘ey? Where’d you take her? Somewhere nice, I hope!’

  Big mistake, he thought. Should have kept your mouth shut.

  ‘The money too!’ Ditton growled, rising. ‘Pretty little rich boy not have enough? Needs to take what don’t belong to him, steal, and disappear?’

  Justus backed towards the door. Yup. Big mistake.

  Ditton took out a pistol of his own and held it by his side. ‘Where is she, Antal?’

  ‘Where’s who?’

  His fist slammed down on the piano top. ‘SHUT UP!’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Adra Dimal. You stole her from me. Tell me where she is!’

  ‘She’s dead,’ he said, hanging his head in dramatic fashion.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘I swear. Long time ago.’

  ‘My money?’

  ‘You’ll get it all back, I swear.’

  ‘You swear a lot.’

  ‘So it appears. You’ll get it all. But I . . . need some help. Trust me, if there was anyone else I wouldn’t be bothering you. All I need is some transport, a weapon—’

  ‘Eight years. Do you know what you’re asking?’ He brandished his pistol. ‘I’d rather shoot you with this than give you it.’

  ‘You know, I hear that a lot.’

  ‘Where’ve you been all this time, Justus?’

  ‘Far away.’

  Ditton sat back down. ‘You’re still wanted for murder. Poor old mother of yours. Not to mention absence from the forces. I hear there’s an attractive rate going for your head, with eight years of interest.’

  ‘I’m not that important, surely.’

  A knock on the door. Ditton nodded and a bikini-clad young woman entered carrying a selection of drinks.

  Justus wasn’t surprised he’d been greeted like this. He’d been Ditton’s golden boy several years back. A member of the gang. In his late teens he’d fallen in with the wrong crowd. Stupid. Violent. A different person. Things were good until he’d fallen for his boss’ new girl: a slave from the Systems calling herself Adra Dimal. After everything went sour with his family, his mother’s death, he hadn’t known what to do. Then Ditton found out about him and Dimal. He’d taken her and Ditton’s money and left, enlisting in Earth Forces in order to gain access to a craft. Not once had he looked back. What he had done to his mother was too much. And he’d been right: he should have stayed away.

  Sensing the tension, the underdressed woman left, closing the door behind her. One of the large bodyguards stood in front of it, stopping Justus from getting close.

  Almost right away a knock struck the other side of the door. Ditton ignored it and looked at him sourly. ‘There’s something different about you, Justus. You were always cocky. You always had a chip on those convincing shoulders of yours. But you’d never challenge me. You had some respect for me, you had that going for you.’

  ‘I’m not a boy anymore.’

  ‘Doesn’t make a fuckin’ difference to me! I’d have killed you then, and I’ll kill you now.’

  Another knock on the door.

  ‘Ditton, all I need—’

  ‘Listen to me, you little shit. I don’t give a fuck about what you want.’

  A third knock, then banging, much louder now.

  ‘I’ll take it that’s a no to any help then?’

  ‘A no? Oh, not a no.’ He downed his drink. ‘A bullet though . . . yes.’

  No thud this time. Instead the door was thrown from its hinges, knocking the bodyguard out. Justus swore and threw himself behind the piano. Bullets rang, striking the walls, the half-tonne instrument, and the bodyguards spread throughout the room.

  He watched Ditton dive behind the bar top, before appearing once more with a shotgun. He aimed it at their attackers and a deafening blast took out his hearing.

  Justus struggled for breath; the realisation hit him as masked men forced their way through. They’ve followed us! Aíron!

  ‘SHOOT THEM!’ Ditton’s lips moved without sound. ‘KILL THEM!’ The bodyguards fired reflex-guns, emptying them at the door where more of the hooded and cloaked forms forced their way in. There was no stopping them. Their faces were encased in glistening metal, but Justus could see the vicious looks on their faces as they fired in every direction.

  Though hidden behind the large metal bar, and waving state-of-the-art weapons, Ditton’s men fell almost instantaneously. Ditton screamed and fired, the only one left.

  Justus spotted the gold-toothed man’s pistol nearby. He had to get out. He had to get to Aíron. Without thinking he reached for the gun. But a heavy boot slammed down on his hand and a hot, jarring pain shot through his shoulder.

  No. I have to get to Aíron . . . and the others.

  All went silent. A bright light filled the room. The pain in his shoulder took over. He felt himself shifted and picked up as the room swirled and faded.

  TWENTY-TWO

  A FORKED FLASH of lightning shot across the sky and for a moment a triangular spire materialized in the distance as Dimal forced the vehicle up the narrow road, bushes and branches scraping the windshield as she held her foot to the floor. Beside her shivered Aíron – silent and in shock. In the back, Justus lay sprawled across Noah and the odd old man who had come to the captain’s rescue. He’d chosen his moment pretty damn well.

  The medic held his hands firmly down on Justus’ bleeding shoulder. ‘Justus? Justus?’ Noah repeated. ‘You hear me, Captain?’

  Justus didn’t answer.

  ‘You sure we’re not being followed?’ Dimal asked the old man.

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said.

  She turned a sharp corner, difficult in the overpowering dark, and continued on at speed. ‘The tracker’s definitely been removed?’

  ‘With my own hand, Adra. Turn left here.’

  Without thinking she obeyed. ‘And you think we’ll be safe here?’

  ‘I know you will.’

  ‘He needs proper medical attention,’ Noah said. ‘Without proper equipment there’s nothing much I can do.’

  ‘He’ll be okay,’ said the old man. ‘He’s strong. You can help him, Noah.’

  Dimal held off looking back. Was it possible
? Could he know about the – what did Justus call it – the echo? He knew too much. He’d known too much when she’d received his signal and met him on Mars. But it was because of him, she reminded herself, that they were able to save their captain from that horrible place to begin with.

  ‘Follow the road right round,’ he said. ‘And you’ll be taken directly to Von Vortan’s manor. He will help you. And Antal.’ Then he leaned forward and whispered, ‘Stop the vehicle, Adra.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘So I may get out.’

  ‘Get out? No. You’re coming with us.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Listen! I saved Justus as you said and he’s come back. He’s here. Just as you said. You can’t ditch us now.’

  ‘I am not ditching you,’ he said. ‘You’ll see me again. You have my word.’

  Several silent seconds passed, and she raised her foot from the pedal. The vehicle groaned to a stop and the old man stepped out. Dimal looked back to her captain, still lay on Noah’s lap.

  ‘Why are we—’ Noah began.

  She opened her door and clambered from the vehicle. ‘Wait!’

  The man turned, sceptre in hand. Red, blue, and gold garments carried by the biting wind. ‘I know what you’re going to ask, Adra. But I can’t tell you. Not yet.’

  ‘Please,’ she said. ‘Who are you?’

  He turned his back on her, walked several paces, and twisted back. A flash of lightning filled the sky. Dimal covered her eyes. But when she looked back, the man had dissolved into the rain filled mist. She ran forward, span back and forth. But there was no denying it. He’d left them.

  ‘Dimal!’ came a cry from behind. It was Aíron. ‘Dimal, come on!’

  She rushed in and leaned into the back seat.

  Noah’s hands were covered in his captain’s blood. Aíron had climbed into the seat beside to help stop the bleeding. Dimal feared the worst. Justus mumbled and groaned. Delusional. His eyes opened and fluttered before rolling back and closing.

  ‘Anna,’ he said. ‘It’s gil . . . axiad. That’s what . . . it is!’

  ‘What?’ Aíron sobbed. ‘What’s he saying?’

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ Dimal put her foot down and forced them down the road dangerously fast.

  Noah gulped. ‘I don’t know!’