by Ky Tyrand
He was right. It looked like the back of a large closet, filled to capacity with fine clothes. But these weren’t men’s outfits; they were women’s dresses, made of soft silk in beautiful patterns.
“I think Tho’ran is some kind of weirdo,” muttered Je’nna, as she pushed a pair of gowns apart to create an opening wide enough to squeeze through. A cloud of dust dropped into the gap, offering a stale smell. “Nice,” she said, before drawing a pistol and disappearing into the old silk.
“Nobody’s been in here for a long time,” observed Petch, following her into the sea of finery.
On the other side of the wall of dresses, the pair found themselves in a huge walk-in closet, surrounded on all sides by more outfits.
“This can’t be right,” whispered Je’nna.
Petch frowned, trying to gain his bearings and make sense of where they were. “Other than Ki’ara, there hasn’t been a woman living on this floor since…”
Je’nna pointed the light in his face when he didn’t finish what he was saying, prompting him to hold up his arm to block it.
“Since what?” she prompted.
“Since her mother.”
“Huh,” said Je’nna, shining a light around the closet, noting that it was about ten times the size of her entire room back in Sanctuary. “And her father left it untouched all these years…”
“Yeah,” said Petch, letting out a breath.
The boy was about to say something about true love, when Je’nna added – “Maybe he was the weirdo.”
Petch decided to keep his comment to himself. He followed the girl to the only opening in the clothes, which appeared to be the way out. There was a large wooden door between shelves filled with various styles of shoes and boots. “C’mon, Clicky,” she told him. “You said you’d keep up.”
“I’m right here,” said the boy.
“Exactly.” Je’nna held up her hand, making sure Petch saw her shush finger before she turned off her light.
The door opened, just a crack.
This time, light poured in.
Petch looked over the girl’s shoulder, spotting walls of paneling similar to Ki’ara’s room. After a moment of silent waiting, Je’nna slowly opened the door wide enough to poke her head out.
She gave Petch the ‘all-clear’, and he followed her out.
The chamber was massive, with ornately carved columns and high vaulted ceilings. The walls were adorned with a mix of fine art, photos of Ki’ara, and pictures of some woman that Je’nna found oddly familiar. Perhaps because she looked like a grownup version of Ki’ara.
“This is the King’s chamber,” whispered Petch.
Je’nna mouthed back, “Thanks, Obvious.” She didn’t know exactly why she felt the need to be snarky. The truth was Je’nna wouldn’t have even thought it was a bedroom, were it not for the huge four-post bed against one wall. It was too big and fancy for a normal person to sleep in. But the King of Avalon? …Perhaps.
The girl kept her pistol raised as she crept across soft rugs.
There weren’t any lights on, but the windows kept it plenty bright. Easy to see that nobody else was in the room with them.
“Tho’ran might not have moved in here, yet,” said Petch. “He has a room down the hall and to the right.”
“Do you think the passage leads there?”
The boy shook his head. “I don’t see how it could. It’s across the corridor.”
“Alright then,” said Je’nna, “We’ll take the…”
A loud thumping from above silenced her.
The pair looked up to the high vaulted ceiling, where thick wood beams and trusses angled every which way.
More thumping. Scraping.
“It’s coming from up on the roof,” observed Petch.
“Great having you around to point out the obvious.”
The boy’s cheeks went red as he followed Je’nna across the room.
Though the windows were all very tall, a couple of them continued right down to the floor. Je’nna went to the first of those and pulled back a corner of the white drapes, revealing a narrow balcony on the other side. A couple of chairs and a small round table were the only things out there.
The sounds above got louder. More intense.
Je’nna put a hand on the latch and cracked open the window, which was in fact a tall, half-arched door. Strong wind whistled in and grabbed hold of the glass, catching the girl by surprise as it flung the panel open.
She was about to step foot out into the wind, when something stopped her. Pain under her skin, from head to toe.
Her body was still throbbing from whatever had happened to her back in the Library. But this was different…
This was an attack on her Mu’turi.
She knew the sensation.
Je’nna holstered her gun – it would do her no good, now – and drew two long, sleek daggers from her boots.
“What is it?” asked the boy, from somewhere behind her.
Je’nna’s head snapped back at him. “Get out of here, Petch!” she ordered, making him start. “Go! Find somewhere safe and hide!”
The boy backed away.
He could feel the tension in her voice.
Sense her fear.
Je’nna edged out onto the balcony, using the pain under her skin to help fight the terror of what lay beyond the doorway. She wasn’t sure which was worse – the petrifying height of the platform, or the knowledge that Dark Matter is nearby.
Depends on who’s controlling the Dark Matter, she decided.
If it was the same psycho she’d met in Valley’s End, there was no question which was worse.
Even above the howling wind, Je’nna could hear the struggle taking place on the rooftop. If there’s a scuffle, that idiot Princess is sure to be a part of it.
There was an overhang above the balcony, well out of Je’nna’s reach.
She eyed the table, wondering if it would be high enough …
After a quick glance over the edge, Je’nna closed her eyes in hopes of convincing both her head and stomach to stop spinning. She tested the table for stability. Only a little wobbly. Fine for eating on, not ideal for standing atop. In a windstorm. Next to a hundred foot drop.
Je’nna took a breath and put a foot on one of the chairs.
She forced another and stepped up onto the table.
The wind almost carried her away as the table began to wobble out of control. Je’nna’s heart nearly pounded out of her chest as she surfed the tabletop while catching glimpses of the life ending drop the gust threatened to push her toward. Just tipping her head back to look up was enough to make her all but lose her balance. She tried to reach the overhang, but there was no way she could catch hold without jumping.
Well, that’s not going to happen.
If Je’nna felt the least bit confident, she might have considered it. But if for some reason she couldn’t reach, or get a firm grip, or if something broke – Je’nna would come crashing down.
The only question was: how far?
The girl couldn’t bring herself to do it. But she hadn’t given up. Hopping off the table, back to solid footing, Je’nna flipped open the Land Mags. They didn’t seem to snap into her palms as quickly as last time, but when she placed them against the block wall beside the window, they stuck like glue. By some miracle, they had survived whatever attack had fried her armor.
How long are they going to work near Dark Matter?
With a deep breath, Je’nna pulled herself up, creeping up the wall like a big, frightened, pink-haired spider. The overhang extended out just far enough to be utterly terrifying to climb under. She wished she had her armor. The balcony being directly below her was the only thing preventing a heart attack. That and the fact that she was certain Ki’ara needed her help.
The wind was fierce, and changed directions repeatedly. Je’nna’s pigtails were long enough to get in her eyes, and she didn’t have a free hand to do anything about it, making her wish she’d braide
d her hair. Shaking her head only helped until the next gust, and the movement made her feel like it might pull her loose. So the girl did her best to ignore it and crept her way along, wondering if the Land Mags were clinging as well as she should.
She made it around the overhang, and poked her head up over the roof’s edge. What happened next was not what Je’nna was expecting…
A large heap of… something was sliding down the steep pitch, straight toward her.
Je’nna’s heart leapt to her throat as she realized the mass was about to plow her off the rooftop.
28
Ki’ara felt herself dropping – weightless – but only for an instant before coming to a sudden halt.
Her knee slammed into something solid with enough impact that her bones would have shattered were in not for the protective layer of armor. Despite the shielding, the pain was enough to cause her to scream out.
The girl tried to gain her bearings, but was dazed and disoriented. She felt weightless; thankful to have the G.R.
But something wasn’t right.
Sylor’s crushing grip on her ankle still hadn’t released. And there was no way her harness attachment could be carrying his weight.
Through a mess of swirling hair, Ki’ara found herself looking up past her hands at the tops of manicured trees and bushes high above her. Despite the mystifying perspective, the Princess recognized the place immediately. She’d played there a thousand times as a child. The royal family’s private gardens.
Well if that’s way up there…
Ki’ara looked down at the gray cloudy sky, and the face of the man who wanted to hurt her like no other.
“It’s not going to be that easy, Little Princess,” hissed Sylor.
Je’nna’s eyes blinked open to the feeling of sharp pain behind them. Her ears were ringing. Her entire head felt numb and buzzing. It was a perfect companion to the sensation of needles stabbing her entire body.
She was lying on her back, gulping for the air that had been knocked from her lungs.
Above her towered the man from her nightmares.
Though she could barely see his face, the girl immediately recognized him from the tattoos that covered his arms and ran right up the shaved sides of his head.
Je’nna wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, but the man was standing on the crushed remains of the little round table, holding something over the edge of the railing.
His foot was not far from her head, and he didn’t appear aware that she was under him. It was a perfect opportunity to take him out once and for all. She could hamstring him right now if she only had a blade…
Breathing wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Je’nna concentrated on drawing more air with every breath as she felt around for her daggers. They were no longer in her boots.
Just turning her head caused an enormous amount of pain, but was well worth it. She saw one of her knives a little more than an arm’s reach to her side. It took everything Je’nna had to roll up onto her shoulder and reach for the weapon.
That was when she spotted striped hair through the rails, blowing every which way in the violent wind.
Ki’ara’s mind raced as it pieced together that she was hanging off the edge of a balcony by Sylor’s powerful grip around her ankle. Her knee – that felt as if it had been hit with a hammer – had smashed against the edge of the platform.
Everything had happened so fast that she didn’t even know if she’d knocked the spider loose. But it didn’t much matter at this point.
Sylor laughed as he stood straight.
He didn’t have another hand to grab hold of the Princess, but was so strong that he didn’t need it.
Ki’ara felt herself rising as Sylor stood and lifted her straight up with nothing but the strength of his arm and shoulder. As soon as she understood her predicament, Ki’ara began kicking with her free leg.
She tried to reach his face, but it was too far, so Ki’ara settled for the hand that held her. The girl kicked her own shin as many times as she hit Sylor’s unrelenting fingers, but it didn’t matter to her. Any amount of pain she could inflict upon herself was well worth the chance of escape.
But his grip wouldn’t falter. He had no intention of letting his prize slip away. The man’s response to her desperate attempts to fight free was laughter and pure enjoyment, prompting Ki’ara to switch tactics and push her foot against the railing for leverage to try and pry herself away.
Though he didn’t have a second hand to catch hold of her, Sylor took the opportunity to scoop his stumped forearm around her pressing leg, ensuring there was no chance of her escape.
The Princess hanging over the side of the railing changed everything.
Je’nna couldn’t attack the man so long as he was the only thing preventing Ki’ara from falling.
With the tattooed man’s attention solely focused on the girl in his grasp, Je’nna was certain she hadn’t been noticed as she fought through the pain and crept around him, gathering her fallen gear.
Now with a razor-sharp dagger in each hand, she could have the man diced to pieces before he even knew what was happening. But she couldn’t harm him so long as Ki’ara was hanging out over the railing.
The only problem was that the Princess was putting up one hell of a fight, kicking and wiggling, trying to break free of the psycho’s grip.
She didn’t seem to care that he was the only thing keeping her alive. If she doesn’t stop flailing about like a crazy Princess, she’s likely to fall!
Things would be a whole lot different if the tattooed man didn’t possess Dark Matter.
Then it occurred to her that Ki’ara probably didn’t even know that her G.R. wouldn’t work if she fell…
Ki’ara did everything she could to fight free.
She knew that Sylor was trying to pull her onto the balcony. And once he did, there would be no hope for her. She had to get away. The G.R. unit on her harness was her only chance of survival.
So Ki’ara kicked and fought and swore that if she made it through this, she would begin carrying some kind of weapon that didn’t rely on energy to function. Even a butter knife would be more useful than her Niksuru at this point.
She heard sounds on the rooftop above – a loud thump, followed by rumbling and scraping.
Well, it’s about time, the girl thought to herself. The noises could mean only one thing…
Ki’ara smiled, which seemed to wipe the smug grin from Sylor’s face.
She curled her body, pulling herself up using the strength of her torso. With Sylor’s grip on her legs, it was surprisingly easy to sit right up. While she’d been trying to fight Sylor off with her legs, it hadn’t occurred to Ki’ara to use her hands.
Now he was suddenly within reach. The girl didn’t hold back. With all the power she could muster, Ki’ara punched him square in the nose.
It couldn’t have been a cleaner hit. Her tight fist landed perfectly, hitting him so hard that she felt his nose crunch and crumple under her knuckles.
There was no question that it caught him by surprise, and even made him close his eyes and take a step back.
But more importantly, he loosened his grip, if only for an instant.
Long enough for Ki’ara to throw her weight back as hard as she could, finally breaking free of Sylor’s grasp.
Relief swept over her as she felt his hand slip away.
Sylor’s expression dropped and twisted as he realized what he’d done.
Ki’ara thought she caught a glimpse of Je’nna diving for the railing at the very instant the metal spider-orb appeared over the edge of the roof, crashing down onto Sylor.
With her heart pounding madly, Ki’ara tried to slam on the brakes. She wanted to see whether the heavy metallic ball had crushed the evil predator; and to know if it truly was Je’nna that she’d spotted beside him. If so, was she was okay?
But the G.R. was already wide open.
Something was wrong. She was moving way too fast.
That was the last Ki’ara saw of the balcony, for she spun head over heels while trying to work the already maxed G.R.
It wasn’t slowing her.
The ground came up fast – faster than she ever would have imagined.
“Ki’ara!” Je’nna lunged, as if there were a chance to catch the girl before she fell.
Sylor let out a roar as he watched the girl slip away.
Out of nowhere dropped a silver sphere, landing on the tattooed man in a way that knocked him against the railing before he toppled onto Je’nna.
The pair landed on one of the patio chairs, flattening it as they both crashed to the floor.
Je’nna tried to position a dagger under the man as he fell, but couldn’t get an angle on it in time. Instead, his weight landed on her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs yet again.
The man leapt to his feet as Je’nna gasped for air and tried to stop her head from spinning. She couldn’t shake the vision of Ki’ara falling. There’s no way she could have survived that…
Je’nna forced herself to put it out of her mind.
She had to finish things.
But the tattooed man didn’t seem to even care that she was there. “NO!” His face was fiery red. He slammed his palm against the railing five times, before shouting, “She was supposed to SUFFER!!!
Je’nna got to a knee.
Both daggers were in her hands.
She fought the pain and lunged at the man.
29
The back of Sylor’s only remaining hand came out of nowhere, slapping her away.
Je’nna felt like a bug, swatted straight through the open door, sent sprawling across a thick rug before sliding to a stop on the floor.
“You!” The man charged into the room after picking up a piece of wood – a leg from the table he’d crushed – and pointed it at Je’nna. “I remember you. The little girl with the BIG guns.” He spat on the floor. “You did this,” he said, holding up his stumped wrist.”
Je’nna rolled to her side, wondering what had happened to her other dagger. “Damn right,” she said, forcing herself up. “I’ll take the other one, too.”