by Taki Drake
“Hony, what is wrong?” demanded Jessa.
“Only a few seconds until op silence, report of possible Imperial incursion, Corda the objective, interrogation and kill team onsite, we are going in, scratch force only, Healer, two students, Mages Ryante and old Rezal. Called PK. If we are overcome, kill the bastards that did this. Hony out.”
Back in the Advocates quarters, the two women stared at each other before the Nyri Mage exploded, “That man is going into battle with two students, a blessed Healer, a woman who teaches history, and a 212-year-old Mage who has never had a hand-to-hand fight in her life!”
Entering communication codes like a madwoman into her comm-unit, the Advocate looked up and smiled with an expression that was the precursor to battle rage and said, “Yes! Isn’t life grand?!”
The Nyri Mage kicked off her slippers and charged out of her friend’s rooms, heading for the infirmary. As the woman ran, Jessa heard something that brought a different kind of smile to her face when T’Kini half yelled, “Please tell me he’s not mated!”
The next instant, the Advocate was snapping out commands and information to the first of the many people she was going to have to contact. Closing her eyes for a split second, she prayed, Hear my prayer glorious gods. Keep all of our people safe. Take no more of those I love away from me.
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When the infiltrator that had moved to check out muffled noises came back into Corda’s room, the officer in charge demanded, “Well? What did you find?”
“It was nothing but a drugged girl having a nightmare. She wasn’t even awake.”
“Kill her?”
“No, might have set off an alarm because she was attached to monitoring equipment. Easier just to make sure she was sleeping and get out.”
All three men stood around and watched as Corda came closer to being conscious, but the countdown on their timing was running out, and they knew it. The uniformed man muttered, “We could try kidnapping her, but she may be on biometric monitoring also.”
Checking his watch, the larger chameleon clad infiltrator said quietly, “eight minutes until extraction target.”
Turning to the Healer, the OIC ordered, “Give her another dose.”
“If I do, it would be a miracle for her to live for more than 10 minutes.”
“As long as we get our questions answered, I really don’t see the downside.”
Shrugging his shoulders, the infiltrator with Healing Magic pulled another ampule out of his pouch and slammed it into the intake port of Corda’s medical bracelet. The young girl jerked like someone had slammed her with an electrical charge.
Her whimpering grew louder, and she opened her eyes, blinking as she tried to focus. The man dressed in the dark uniform leaned over and taking her bandage shoulder in a cruel grip, ground his fingers into her wound, and ordered, “You will answer our questions and do it quickly. If you do not, I will make sure you suffer.”
Corda sobbed in agony as the vicious man leaned closer to the young girl and said, “Tell me what the…”
The outer wall of the room shattered in an explosion of fury and rage. The Armsmaster and the TA Lead flung their bodies at the two infiltrators, disappearing into rapid movements that in the dim light looked more like whirlpools of air than human bodies.
Snarling in a fury, the Triage Healer flung his body over Corda’s and yanked the med bracelet that was injecting the medicine that would have ended her life. The combination of his acceleration and the breadth of his shoulder smashed into her torturer, and the man was flung against the cabinet but instantly bounced back and reached for his weapon.
Roaring in frustrated rage, the uniformed man took aim at the Healer, who was focused on saving his patient. Smiling in anticipation, the killer squeezed his trigger, and a deep green beam of disruption flashed out to destroy both Healer and patient only to run into a barrier of smoke that sprang up to cover the bed, patient, and Healer under a dome of protective Magic.
Deprived of his prey, the man’s predatory instincts were raised even higher, and he turned his weapon toward the battling Armsmaster and fired. Unable to hit the pair of combatants that were moving in rapid, darting patterns, the shooter spun to fire on the two Mages framed by the doorway.
The man’s face twisted in snarling glee as he said in a low, vicious voice, “Civilian amateurs! A doddering old fool and a woman, hah! You should’ve brought more help!” When neither woman looked at all intimidated, another snarl rolled out of the man’s chest, and he took a step toward them and brought his weapon up.
Again, he got no response filled with the fear that he craved, and his sense of survival took over, and he fired. The beam from his weapon drilled toward the two women, and… did nothing.
Berserk with a frustrated craving for pain and suffering, the dark-clad man dropped his ineffective weapon and pulled a long knife that glowed with a yellow, Magical light. “I will get you one way or another,” he threatened. Stalking toward the two women until he was within several feet of the older one, he began a strike that would intersect the protective wall but was yanked to a halt, and the knife was ripped from his hand by a beam of force.
Screaming in denial, he tried to move his arms and legs but was unable to even flex a muscle. Yelling again, he reached his tongue back to crush the failsafe embedded in the back of his mouth, but a blanketing film kept him from smashing the repository of easy death, and the man let out a tortured sound of insanity.
“Oh, no. You don’t get out of this life that easily, little man.” Coalescing out of the darkness, T’Kini, the Nyri Mage, ran the claws of her left hand down the side of the man’s neck, leaving trickling blood behind.
Chapter 34 – Tactics of Survival
“Watch out!” The warning came from Roby as she stood beside the elderly Mage, determinedly holding the protective barriers around Corda’s bed. T’Kini yanked her immobilized prisoner into the corner, away from the men still fighting.
Roby was frightened for the two students that were trying to take down the massive infiltrator. The young men were doing the best they could, but they were fighting an experienced combat specialist.
Lead Enkill had charged in to help his friend as soon as they had reached the room, but his incautious approach had earned him an immediate broken arm. Both boys were reeling from injuries, and the female professor was worried that she might see two of her students killed in front of her.
“Roby, keep your concentration. We can’t let the protective barriers lapse. If we do, the innocent will die,” whispered the elderly Mage. Torn, the teacher kept focused on her task, but her heart pounded in fear.
Another flurry of blows and one of the young men was down, still and bleeding. Enkill was doing his best to both protect his friend and win the fight, but the two female Mages knew that it would be the enemy that would triumph.
There was a sharp snapping sound, and Enkill’s leg fractured. The young man went down with a despairing cry. Diving forward, his opponent raised clenched hands to smash down to steal the young man’s life when the tall form of the Triage Healer sprang from Corda’s bed to tackle the infiltrator and smash his face into the ground.
Moving faster than their eyes could track, the Mages watched in amazement as the Healer disabled the large soldier with a flurry of deadly blows, paralyzing his arms and legs, and smashing into his back with an impact that audibly cracked multiple bones.
Springing up and flipping the man over, an infuriated Jerroy Tinels yanked the man’s mouth open and pressed hard on the hinge of his mouth, freezing the fighter's ability to move his jaw. Reaching in with both his fingers and Magic, the Healer ripped out a tooth and something else from inside the man’s mouth and flung the poison across the room.
Just then, the Armsmaster got in two sharp blows on his opponent. The crack of breaking bones echoed through the room, and with a cold look in his eyes, the Armsmaster grabbed both sides of the man’s head and twisted.
His head bent over, and h
is chest heaving in a desperate attempt to get more oxygen, Hony scrubbed his face with his hands and looked up. Glancing around the room, he took a quick evaluation of the current status and began to rise.
Thinking the fight was over, the two female Mages allowed the protective barrier to drop. Moving quickly over to where the two students lay senseless on the ground, the women began to do what they could for the injured students.
The movement of the two Mages left the doorway unblocked, so another man in a chameleon suit came charging through at a full run. Jamming a stiff leg into the Armsmaster, the special forces fighter knocked the surprised man back onto his knees and turned to fire into the back of the Healer who was crouched over the two students between the other Mages.
Sitting up in her bed with half-blind eyes and torn by tremors, Corda came to full consciousness, immediately immersed in a scene where her friends were in mortal danger. The hair on the back of the Mages rose as a colossal pool of Magic was ripped open, and every source of electricity in the room became a weapon in the grasp of the frightened young girl.
Intersecting and shredding the death beam that would have obliterated the Triage Healer, Corda wielded her power like a whip, bouncing the deadly spells off the walls and curving them around her friends, the incandescent burn of lights forced the Mages to close watering eyes and crouch down. The last standing enemy tried to spin and shoot at Corda, but a flick of her hand removed his arm, weapon and all. Seeming not to really see any of the people in the room, the young, frightened Mage was sobbing inconsolably as her Magic flew in a deadly dance.
The Armsmaster said in a low tone to the infiltrator, “Don’t move, you idiot.”
Bleeding profusely, their enemy chose not to listen and darted toward the door. The sudden movement drew Corda’s attention, and both of her arms moved forward, flinging a wide beam of dark red energy at the fleeing enemy, burning the entire top half of the man to ashes.
The Triage Healer considered the hysterically sobbing young girl and the two men that lay bleeding out at his feet in an agony of indecision. Choosing those that he knew he could help, Jerroy tried to get their bleeding under control before he could turn to Corda.
“Corda, you can relax now. All of the enemies have been controlled or killed. Very soon we are going to have people here to help, but they may come running in. You need to lie down and let the Healer help you.” The Armsmaster was talking to Corda in as gentle a voice as the big man could manage. Inch by inch, he was moving closer to her, drawing her gaze and trying to talk her down from her pinnacle of fear and hysteria.
Finally, the young girl’s sobs lost their sharp edge, and she sagged back against her ripped up pillows. The Armsmaster perched on the side of her bed and touched her hand with gentle pressure. Staring at him with a desperate plea, the 13-year-old traumatized almost to the breaking point by the events of the day, whispered, “Please don’t leave me.”
The Armsmaster answered her with a calm voice, but tears ran down his face, “I need to check on your friends. They are just across the hall, and I will be right back. Then I will stay until you tell me it’s okay to leave.”
When Corda stared at him in dumb panic, he asked, “Is it okay if I go check on Liz and Argah?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, but please, please come back.”
“I will. Is there someone you would like to hold your hand while I’m gone?”
Corda looked at him with the stunned expression of someone who was not processing language well, but her haunted look lightened as Roby Ryante came over and joined the Armsmaster on Corda’s bed. The teacher carefully reached out to hug the young woman. Tense for a moment, Corda turned her face into the Mage’s shoulder and was consumed with sobs.
Meeting the Armsmaster’s eyes over Corda’s head, Roby tilted her head in a definite order, and Hony Robarn moved smoothly and quickly to check on the welfare of the other two girls. He found Argah still sleeping with no apparent injuries. However, when he came into Liz’s room, he found the young woman huddled in bed and frightened out of her mind.
As soon as she saw him, Liz sat up in bed and demanded, “Is Corda all right? The noises were horrible, and I’ve been so frightened.”
“Corda is alive, but we have other injuries. The room is very bloody, but your friend needs you.”
Before he even asked her if she was going to come, Liz had ripped the medical bracelet off her arm and swung her legs out of bed. Teetering a little bit, she grabbed the Armsmaster’s elbow and let him guide her across the hall to her friend.
Taking in the scenario with one glance, shuddering at the gore that splattered the room, Liz climbed into the bed with Corda and threw her arms around her young friend. Corda’s sobs changed to a less frantic pace, and the young girl started to slip into an exhausted slumber.
Chapter 35 – Hitting the Fan
The Mages were kneeling on the floor, desperately trying to save the lives of the two young men when the room was flooded with reinforcements. It was as if the floors and walls had erupted in Academy Mages, Security Guards, and Peacekeepers. Scurrying in to check the damage was the Headmaster, trailed by an assistant.
Unfortunately, everyone was trying to talk at once.
As the noise level rose, the blood-covered elderly Mage on the ground concentrated for an irritated moment and flung a noise-baffling shield spell over the bed where Corda lay vulnerable in exhausted sleep. Shortly after that, an influx of fresh Healers from all over the city relieved the worn and battered first responders.
Patrea Rivis, the head of the Academy Healer College, came in to take personal command of the infirmary. He was the only one that could make Jerroy listen. Even the distraught Academy Headmaster found it impossible to divert the furious and stubborn Triage Healer.
Insisting that everyone involved in the fight be evaluated immediately, Patrea succeeded in clearing some of the wounded out of the room. However, the people clustered around the severely injured young men refused to let their patients be shifted. Jerroy back them up with such ferocity that even the Head of the Healer College could not get him to budge.
In a quick consult, the Armsmaster huddled with the head of the Academy Security Guards and the PK Commander on the best way to deploy forces. The man’s urgent speech and concerned expressions chilled the Healers and other Mages that swirled around them even though they couldn’t hear what the men were discussing.
Coming to an agreement quickly, the Peacekeepers and the Academy Security Guard blended seamlessly. Within the room, the guards were mixed, while additional Peacekeeping forces could be heard deploying around the buildings and the Academy grounds.
Moving rapidly, more guards flooded the chamber and the infirmary halls, the sentinels arranged in alternating patterns of Peacekeepers and Academy Security forces. The grim expressions on the men and women’s faces made many of the Healers uneasy, but no one protested except the Head of the Healer College.
“Armsmaster, I think you are overreacting. It’s going to be impossible for us to do our job while tripping over clumsy people wearing battle armor every time we turn around.”
“I would rather you trip over us then lose any more students or Healers to the next wave of attacks. This is my job, so stay out of it.”
Turning to fully face the Armsmaster, the Head Healer said, “You, sir need to go be evaluated right now.” Gesturing to two of the infirmary orderlies, the man continued, “Get him into one of the examining rooms as soon as possible and then come back here.”
As the orderlies attempted to pull the Armsmaster out of the room, he dug his heels in and said, “Evaluate me here. I gave my word to Corda that I would stay with her until she told me it was okay for me to leave.”
Mage Rivis protested, saying in a condescending voice, “She’s sound asleep. With all these people, the girl will be perfectly safe. I am sure she will understand if she wakes up before you are back.”
The unyielding reply was, “I gave my word.”
“
Healer Mage Rivis, I would strongly suggest that you avoid giving illegal or unsupportable statements at any time. If Armsmaster Robarn gave his word to the young girl that has been repeatedly victimized over the last 24 hours, I would think you, as a Healer of note, would be respectful of that.” Her face wearing the expression of an avenging fury, the Academy Advocate advanced into the room, once again in the company of the Advocate General Amity and the Imperial Advocate. A protective detail of the Emperor’s Own Elite Force accompanied them.
Everyone in the room could hear the high-pitched whine of charged and unlocked weapons. The powered battle armor that each man wore underscored the seriousness of what had occurred. Spreading out in a synchronized movement, the six men positioned themselves around the chamber, alert to any threat. Their opaque helmets made them a dehumanized danger, designed to terrify the Emperor’s enemies.
The Healer Mage flinched back a few steps from the imposing soldiers and almost tripped over Misha, as the Imperial Seer coalesced in the center of the room and advanced on the frightened man in anger so incandescent she was literally glowing.
Jabbing a finger into the much younger man’s chest, the Seer permeated the man’s skin with her voice down to the bone as she demanded, “Where has your common sense gone, man? Instead of rewarding the people that protected their patients with their life, your grandstanding is rebuking them and opening my granddaughter up to more danger.”
Turning back toward the Headmaster with the speed of a striking snake, Misha continued in an even angrier voice, “Justim Foste, your attempt to play politics and raise your importance to a higher level has come perilously close to treason. I would suggest you start building your defense, or you are going to find yourself facing the Imperial executioner.”