by Matt King
He crawled from underneath the rock and walked toward the shimmering doorway. Dillon would be on the other side somewhere, but he wasn’t worried. The little cub only knew what he’d taught him, and he showed the arrogant bastard once that he knew how to take him down.
But Dillon could wait. He would stick to the shadows. Watch. Listen. And when the opportunity came, he would take what he so badly desired.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The banded clouds of the planet gave off plenty of light for August to find his footing. He didn’t know where he was going; he only knew he wanted to get up high so he could get a handle on things. The air felt strange to his lungs. More dense, like he was drinking it in instead of breathing. As he got higher, he noticed that what he thought was snow earlier was actually a white mineral coating on the rocks that reflected the planet’s light. The crust reminded him of diamonds. Despite their icy-looking exterior, they were warm to the touch. Not too hot to use for handholds, but warm enough to make him think twice about sticking some in his pockets to keep the chill of the wind away.
He eyed a flat piece of rock near the top. The flakes on the boulders grew thicker as he climbed. Some were so heavily blanketed that their edges were as sharp as knives. Once he made it to the plateau, he bent to one knee and surveyed the valley with a slow scan while he caught his breath.
The height gave him his first view of the countryside beyond Amara’s castle. A large mass of blinking lights drew his attention to the valley below. They started at the base of the opposite mountain range and stretched across the flats, maybe a couple hundred lights across and at least as many deep. Their movement made it seem as though the ground was rippling. Scattered amongst the crowd were domed metallic discs, each with a glowing ring of red light near the top. Three giant pyramid-like machines near the back were in various stages of assembly beneath white lights hovering above them.
This is an army, he thought. And it was primed for invasion.
He wondered if Meryn’s army would come close to their numbers. If it didn’t, there wasn’t going to be much of a fight. Tens of thousands of soldiers stood in the shadow of a huge iridescent wall that looked like a larger version of Paralos’s synapse, only this doorway's face was totally clear. He could see the mountain range continue along the other side of the valley through its wavy surface.
It was enough of a report to bring back to Meryn and Paralos. Assuming I get back. He lowered himself off the plateau and started to make his way down the slope. He needed to get closer to the castle’s entrance if he was going to have a shot at Gemini. A single ravine cut into the mountainside provided the only way in and out of the castle. He could use the shadows of the road near the gate to hide while he waited. Whenever they got close enough, he’d make the kill and run like hell back to the synapse before anyone inside knew what happened. Sounded easy enough.
Getting down proved trickier than climbing up. He cut his palm on the rough edge of a rock and stopped to let it heal. While he shook off the blood, he saw something move along the mountain face across the ravine. He squinted to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
Just below the walls of the castle, he saw it again. Someone was climbing around the rocks. He ducked beneath a crag to keep from being seen, but kept his eye on the figure. They moved through the shadows of the wall for the most part, but the glow of the rocks kept them from disappearing entirely. It wasn’t until the climber moved into a thin patch of light that August got his first good look. He shot up as soon as he recognized the tan duster.
Coburn.
August tore down the rest of the slope, rocks slicing at his fingers as he slid over the smaller boulders to reach the smooth incline of the path. How Coburn had gotten to Pyr didn’t matter. Killing him did.
He sprinted across the narrow ravine floor to the other side and started up the rocks toward the castle. Only a hundred yards separated him and Coburn. Overlapping rocks blanketed the slope beneath the castle wall like scaled armor, rough-cut with a downward angle. Coburn had gloves to guard his hands against the rocks. August was forced to fight through the pain. So close to his prey, he barely felt it.
Once he was past the first layer of boulders, he looked up and saw Coburn staring at him from beneath an outcropping farther up the mountainside. There was a pause as they locked eyes, a shallow moment of recognition.
Coburn turned to run.
A dark green flame appeared in a window on one of the castle’s turrets. August charged ahead anyway, close enough now to see the soles of Coburn’s boots as he climbed up the rocks. Nearing the shadow of the wall, Coburn made it to the base of a boulder too tall for him to crawl over easily, giving August time to dive and catch his ankle. They went tumbling to the ground. After finding his footing, August reached for a blade and brought it down quickly at Coburn’s throat. Mere inches kept him from his kill. Coburn had stopped the edge of August’s sword with a knife drawn from his belt. His hands shook as he pushed against August’s strength.
August took Coburn’s wrist and whipped it backward against the rock. The knife tumbled off its face down into the ravine.
“You’re getting slow,” August said.
“And you’re still talking when you should be fighting.”
Coburn came off the ground with a rock in his hand and smashed it against the side of August’s left leg. He followed it with a quick uppercut and right cross, sending August to the rocky floor.
August scrambled to his feet too late to grab Coburn before he escaped to the boulder above. He gave chase. Coburn was ready with the heel of his boot as soon as August pulled himself over the edge. The kick struck him on the side of the jaw, but it wasn’t enough to knock him down. He shook off the blow and launched himself forward, tackling Coburn at the waist.
“I told you I’d come for you,” he said, grabbing Coburn by the coat lapels.
August slammed him face-first into a boulder. He flipped him around by the back of his duster, driving his fists into the old man’s ribs. The brittle bones shattered. Coburn reached out clumsily for one of August’s swords. August grabbed his arm and twisted, adding pressure until every single bone snapped like a twig.
Coburn’s screams echoed through the canyon.
In all his years working for the man, August had never known Coburn to show weakness, even when he was in pain. This isn’t right. He paused, trying to work through the angle.
Above him, a green flash of light from the closest spire caught his eye. Where one flame had been, three more now joined it in the windows on the lower levels. He’d woken the whole castle. Farther down the mountain, a line of soldiers ran along the top of the wall in their direction.
“You son of a bitch,” August muttered.
Coburn laughed through a bloody grin.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Michael opened his eyes to see a darkened world rushing by. He wondered if he was falling. It didn’t feel like he was. What he felt was a different kind of weightlessness, the kind where his mind felt like it was free from intrusions. Free from my father. He let his eyelids fall, unable to keep them open any longer. Slowly, his thoughts began to rise above the clouds in his head. He remembered something, a sound…a chant. A hazy image formed in his memory—the decadrome, the crowd, and the soldiers sent to attack him. The fog continued to lift. He remembered the faces of the ones who were closest to him. They were savage and bloodthirsty, each of them screaming like banshees until they saw what he truly was. Some stopped to stare. Others tried to run, but it was too late for that. The crowd—so rowdy in the beginning—grew silent at the very end.
One of the Pyrians said something in his native tongue before he died. Michael imagined that he was begging for his life. He remembered shaking his head and laughing just before he—
“Bloomed,” Amara said. “You were a blooming flower. So beautiful.”
He opened his eyes again. He was able to focus them now, but he didn’t have the strength to turn his head. Still, he c
ould see Amara’s legs stretching away from him beneath his cheek. She stroked his hair away from his face.
“You make a nice pillow,” he said.
She gave a small laugh. “I thought you might sleep the whole way home.”
“I feel like it.” He tried to push himself up.
“Shh,” she said, guiding him back down. “You do not have the strength yet. You’ll be better soon, but for now, rest.”
“Where are we?”
“On our way back to the castle after your victory.”
“I don’t remember winning. I don’t remember much of anything, actually.”
“You were a sight to behold,” she said, beaming. “Your light spread to the horizon. It will act as a beacon. Soon the Pyrians will come to worship you and ask for your blessing.”
He surprised himself with a smile.
“You have a gift, my prince, and that gift can bestow miracles for your followers and exact revenge for those that have wronged you. The warriors you faced today, you gave them the greatest of deaths. You freed them from this world and you bound their energy with your own.”
He used what little strength he had to turn over so that he could look up at her face. She leaned her head against her hand as she stroked his hair with a proud smile.
“If I have all this energy, why do I feel so tired?” He ended his sentence speaking through a yawn.
“You will always be left weakened when you use your power to the fullest. Your body is trying to process what it has reaped. You won’t feel it yet, but with each enemy's death, you gain strength. Pyrians are rich in energy. Thrice the amount of your people. Many Pyrians gave their lives today, and as a result, you’ve become more powerful than you ever thought possible.”
He let his eyes rest again. Power. He felt nothing but exhaustion. All he felt like doing was sleeping for days.
“Sleep is exactly what you need,” she said.
He recoiled despite his weariness. “So you can read my thoughts.”
“Of course. We are one. Now, rest. When we arrive, I will see to it that you—”
Sleep had nearly taken him again when he opened his eyes in a startle at her abrupt silence. She stared out the window.
“What’s the matter?”
“He is here,” she said flatly.
“Who?”
“Meryn’s assassin.”
He tried to sit up, but her hand kept him down. “How do you know?”
“Galan called to me. Something is happening at the castle.”
“What?”
She blinked once, seemingly cutting off whatever line of communication she was using, and looked down at him. “This place is no longer safe,” she said. “We will go to my tower in the North.”
Michael held onto the seat as the shale slowed to a crawl and turned away from the castle. Amara held her eyes closed above him. After a pause, she relaxed.
“What is it?”
“Talus,” she answered. “He has returned. Meryn was bold to send her champion while you were weakened, but her plan has failed. Talus is sworn to protect you, my prince, and he is on his way to fulfill his duties.”
CHAPTER FORTY
August silenced Coburn with a punch to the throat, but the damage was already done. The guards were on their way down from the towers to investigate the commotion. It was only a matter of time until he and Coburn were spotted.
The old man coughed a spray of blood to the ground, trying to regain his breath. His hacking spasms were nearly as loud as his screams. August picked him up and tossed him underneath the rock to keep him out of sight. Coburn’s face smacked against the stone, sending his eyes dancing lazily as he slipped to the ground. A stream of blood rolled along the crooked angle of his broken nose, where it joined the red stain already coating his tongue and lips. His arm hung limp across his chest. It was the kind of scene August had dreamed about while he was buried in the swamp, and now it felt like an empty victory.
There was a familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him that it was all slipping away again. With his cover blown, Gemini was out of the question now. He had no choice but to return to Paralos empty-handed. And Meryn, he reminded himself. She’ll know that I failed her again.
A voice shouted down from the wall directly above them. Standing along the edge in a line of dark shadows, the castle guard stood ready, their faces marked by narrow glowing eyes. He recognized the green-tipped weapons they held cocked over their shoulders. They were the same ones used by the Pyrians at the church. The ends of the spears smoldered like embers.
His only choice was to run. He looked at Coburn’s bloody face. I should kill him and be done with it. Even though Coburn's eyes were nearly swollen shut, he must've seen what August meant to do. He tried to pull away, grasping with his one good hand for the edge of the rock.
August reached for a sword. “Not this time, you piece of shit.”
A whistling noise made him pause. When he looked up, he saw a volley of spears raining down on him, their green tips trailing streaks against the night sky.
He dove to avoid the brunt of the attack, but there were too many to dodge. One of the spears punctured his shoulder, tearing through the other side of his chest until its pronged barbs sank into the rock. He nearly blacked out from the pain. Screaming through gritted teeth, he tried to push himself up far enough to get a grip on the spear handle. Eventually, he got to his knees, and as the sound of a second volley whistled through the air, he pulled the rest of the spear through his chest and fell forward to the rock below. The spears glanced off the overhanging lip. He pushed himself farther beneath the ridge to give the hole in his shoulder time to heal.
Above him, Coburn stirred, slowly dragging himself across the boulder. Through his wheezing, August could hear him trying to laugh.
“I don't know what you're laughing at,” August called up. “You’re starting to look like a pretty good shield to me right about now.”
As soon as the pain faded enough for him to move, he peeked above the lip of the rock to see the soldiers still poised on the wall. They held their weapons pointed to the sky like they were waiting for something, even though they were staring right at him.
This is wrong.
Below them, Coburn lay on the ground with his head propped against the boulder. He craned his neck and raised a shaking finger to point down the slope of the wall.
“Should've....run,” he rasped.
With a roar that echoed through the surrounding ravine, Talus jumped from the top of the castle wall, sending up a spray of rocks and dust as he landed near Coburn. At least a dozen of the alien soldiers crested the hill behind him, each carrying a spear at their side. Talus grunted an order over his shoulder, sending the group off toward Coburn while he stepped down to the rock where August lay. As the monster stood to full height, the light of the planet cast his face in silhouette, making it seem as though a pair of glowing eyes hovered in midair over a snarling set of jaws.
The muscles in August’s chest finished stitching themselves in place as he got back to his feet and faced Talus at the opposite end of the rock. Missing was the voice in his head telling him it was time to run. Instead, the sight of Coburn and Talus next to each other kept him still. Here they were, the two people responsible for Ray’s death, and no way to fight them both without getting himself killed. He wondered if he should try anyway.
Talus slipped the sword from his back. With a quickness that caught August off guard, he brought it across in an arcing blow, sending August scrambling backwards. A rush of wind swept across his face as the sword buried into the top of the boulder, narrowly missing his throat. The sound of the impact left his ears ringing. He made the decision to run even before Talus could pull his sword free, but he hesitated for a second as he caught Coburn’s eyes. Blood stained the hollows of the man’s gaunt cheeks. His wry smile as the soldiers plucked him off the ground sent a flash of heat to August's face.
I hope to God they don’t ki
ll you, but you better pray they do.
Talus wrenched the sword back over his shoulder for a second strike. August rushed forward before he could finish his swing and planted his shoulder in the monster’s chest. The blow couldn’t have hurt—not through skin as hard as diamond—but it was enough to knock Talus off balance. The monster fell down to the next level of stones. August used the time to run, hopping down the rocks two at a time until he reached the grassy path lining the crevice. He took off in a sprint toward the synapse.
The ground shook as Talus landed behind him, snarling and growling as he tried to make up the distance. Each step brought August closer to the portal, closer to escape, and still he couldn't help but wonder if he was running in the wrong direction. Why had he come here if it wasn’t for Bear? For Ray? Killing Gemini got them nothing. But killing Talus…
He slowed as soon as he heard the vibrating hum of the doorway. The image rippling over its surface was close enough to touch. He stopped short of breaking the plane. Night had fallen over the woods near their camp on the other side, but he thought he could make out the image of Paralos.
What are you doing? Paralos scolded in August's head, but the words sounded like a whisper from across the room. Come through now before it’s too late!
August shook his head. I can’t.
What do you mean you can't? Talus will kill you, August!
A rumbling growl pulled August's attention away. He turned to find Talus only a few yards back, the prismatic sheen of his skin lit by the glow from the synapse. They were alone at the mouth of the ravine. The monster's soldiers were still back on the hill, too far away to join the fight.
August drew his swords. “No more running,” he said.
The monster looked over his shoulder and above him to the edges of the mountain walls as though he were searching for an ambush.