Shadow of the Colossus

by Nicole Grotepas

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  A Note from Me copy

  Glossary copy

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicole Grotepas

  Cover designed by Deranged Doctor Design

  Version: 1.20.2019

  Other titles by Nicole Grotepas:

  Novels:

  Feed 1

  Feed 2

  Feed 3

  Feed 4

  Blue Hearts of Mars

  World in Shadow

  Eye of the Colossus

  Hands of the Colossus

  Shadow of the Colossus

  Short stories:

  “Six Shadows”

  “The Coldest Heart”

  “The God Machine”

  “Cities of the Sun”

  “The First Post-Android Buyback Program”

  Immense gratitude for the invaluable

  Elizabeth B. and Tim Birmingham

  For Lindsay, a seriously bad-ass woman.

  ONE

  Holly dodged to the left with a low grunt, narrowly avoiding the fist plunging straight for her cheek. It was close enough that the breeze from the large knuckles fluttered against her skin.

  “Close,” the owner of the fist muttered in a voice like smoke and ash.

  She bit her lip, returning her fists to the defensive position protecting her face and chest, resuming her attack stance, and squaring off against her opponent. He was a tall, dark violet Druiviin, or rather, Yasoan. She was still getting used to thinking the more polite term. The word meant grape in a creole mixture of several languages hanging on from old Earth.

  She glanced at her friend, Odeon Starlight, where he watched the training fight from outside the fraying ropes encircling the ring located in the Lions of the Spires training center. He caught her gaze and nodded with a faint smile, running a violet hand through his silver hair.

  “You’re improving, Ms. Drake,” called a pleased, somewhat smug voice from beside Odeon. Her eyes flicked to Shiro. His lion-head cane rested on one shoulder, the other held to the rope. He motioned with his cane at her opponent. “But throw some of your own punches.”

  She nodded. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do, Shiro.” Everyone in her crew had known about the martial arts place except her—that seemed to be a commonality amongst them and the seedier side of the City of Jade Spires. Holly knew so little of it, and they were aware of its sprawling tentacles. They’d suggested it vehemently when she’d mentioned learning some formal fighting techniques as well as figuring out a new, not-so-lethal weapon. And because Odeon and Shiro had flexible day jobs, they’d been accompanying her when she’d finally worked it in.

  “Yes, come at me, Holly,” the Yasoan said in that voice like dark clouds brewing on the horizon. He went by Aeolionaias, his actual Yasoan name. Stalwart and strong, he did not flinch before Holly’s fists nor did he bow to the prevalent culture of Yasoans taking on Earth counterpart names to assimilate into the 6-Moons. He grinned, his pale blue eyes glimmering at her, a taunting challenge flickering within them.

  She swallowed. Knowing that she had an audience did not give her confidence. Both Shiro and Odeon were skilled fighters, using their own specialty weapons in precision and skill. And fists? They were Charly Stout’s forte. Not Holly’s. Darius simply avoided fights by sticking behind the desk, manipulating the world using his machine and software prowess. Next to her crew, Holly offered nothing that the team relied on. Except having used her aether gun, the Equalizer, to threaten, dominate, and a few times, kill.

  She needed this.

  Aeolionaias lunged at her and she danced out of range. As she spun away from his fist, she moved into a maneuver he’d taught her just that day, regaining her balance again quickly, back-stepping, and sweeping her own foot against the foot he’d planted to strike at her, and then bringing her elbow down hard against the inside of his shoulder blade. It worked like she’d expected and knocked him to his knees.

  A momentary exultation crashed through her chest. The emotion was short-lived, as Aeolionaias countered her with one he’d also taught her, but which she’d forgotten to watch for. He leaned into his momentum from her strike, and performed a move he had called the Dove Lands Softly, flashing both arms out as he crashed forward, planted them and spun his weight around. His legs rammed against the front of her shins. Bone collided with bone and she fell.

  She twisted in the air to lessen the blow and maneuver away from Aeolionaias, but only succeeded in landing with a jarring thud on her side as she crashed roughly onto the mats.

  In a flash Aeolionais was atop her, gathering her arms back into his hands and pinning her face down onto the floor. She cringed at the smell of dust and sweaty feet.

  “Yield, Holly Drake,” Aeolionaias demanded.

  “A bit rough, chap,” Shiro called, sounding affronted. “Don’t you think?”

  His voice came from above her. Holly opened her eyes to see him standing over them, the tip of his cane poking into the muscles of Aeolionaias’ naked shoulder.

  “She hasn’t yielded. I am her trainer. I know how much strength to exert. If she’s hurt, she’ll tell us.”

  The problem was that Holly did not want to yield. She wanted to win. That he had bested her, yet again, stung.

  Her father had forced her to take martial arts classes as a young girl. He, a detective in the same precinct that Holly’s sister Meg now worked, the man had known the risks in the city despite the strange Centau obsession for pretending that the City of Jade Spires was a utopia. She’d managed to learn a small amount, but had always purposefully shed the skills the minute she’d left the classes, in rebellion to her father.

  At least, she had tried to. A few of them clung to her, and they were the things that occasionally had saved her, like during her time in the women’s prison.

  As Aeolionaias held her cheek to the mats, she grappled mentally with the irrefutable fact that he had bested her. Irritation simmered in her chest. She burned to win, to no longer be dominated by men, to be strong enough to fight them.

  But she needed his help to do that.

  Holly bit her lip. “I yield.” Her voice was husky and gravelly with emotion as well as the pressure of 200 pounds of Yasoan muscle on top of her.

  Aeolionaias leapt off her. “Good fight, Holly Drake. You’re improving.”

  Shiro tried to take her hand to help her to her feet. She looked up at him and smiled. “Shiro, trust me, you don’t want to touch me. You’d have to wash off immediately.”

  Shiro nodded and tilted his head. “I don’t mind getting a bit dirty, Ms. Drake. Not if it involves assisting an improving fighter such as you.” He winked. He returned to the side of the ring, the hand he’d offered Holly returning to his pocket. His gaze flickered toward Odeon on the side of the ring.

  “I don’t feel like I’m getting better.” It was a soft mutter to herself, but Odeon caught it with his preternatural hearing.

  Odeon addressed her in his soft baritone. “You are. Aeolionaias’ counter-move saved him. If you’d remembered that one as well, you could have dodged his lunge.”

  Aeolionaias offered her a towel. She accepted it with words of gratitude and wiped the grime off her face from the mats.r />
  “Today you choose a new weapon, Holly.” Aeolionaias waved to a far wall laden with various weapons. The four of them looked toward it, across the floor where other fighters battled and trained. There were other smaller rings in the facility as well as training devices from ancient Yasoan culture. Wooden stands for close quarters, hand-to-hand combat ranged across one section, as well as wooden posts like the one she’d seen in Elan’s garden in the northern district of Rochers Deshiketes.

  “Oh, right.”

  Odeon watched her face, read it, and tapped his own temple. “Conquer the doubt in here.”

  “He’s right, Ms. Drake. Everyone loses. There is always someone who can beat you in the physical game. Don’t let them also win the fight in your own mind.”

  “Am I that transparent?” She smiled, attempting to accept their reassurances.

  “Have you thought more about what you would like to train to use, Holly Drake?” Aeolionaias asked her. He ran a towel across his neck and shoulders. It was the first time she’d seen him actually work up a sweat in a sparring match with her. Perhaps she was improving.

  She draped her towel on one of the ropes. “Maybe.”

  “Let’s go look.”

  They left the ring, weaving their way across the floor of the facility. The mildew-laden odor of sweat and dirty clothes mingled with the fragrance of cedar and heat. The air outside was getting colder, and while the building was heated, the management of the training arena kept the temperature low. The sounds of exertion and bodies colliding with each other accompanied the small group to the wall of weapons.

  “What have you considered using, Holly?” Aeolionaias asked, again.

  “Just about everything.” She picked up a club like Odeon’s and ran her fingers along the smooth wood. “A staff would be easy to balance—whatever force I put to it is what comes out. Not like a gun, where the smallest exertion creates a massive crater of damage.”

  “Club. Not a staff,”

  “A sword, Ms. Drake, is the noblest of weapons.” Shiro pulled a rapier from a stand and gave it a few experimental swings.

  “Yes, Shiro, but that is your specialty. Besides, I’m afraid I would accidentally run someone through.”

  “Don’t let fear guide your decision, Holly,” Aeolionaias said. “Pick some up. Try them out. Choose based on what feels correct in your grasp.”

  Odeon echoed his agreement with the trainer’s advice.

  Holly studied the many weapons. Sweat trickled down her back. The sounds of the room became distant as she pondered what she would feel most confident in trying. “Something for close quarters. Or something with reach?” she mused aloud.

  “Both would be ideal,” Shiro said.

  “What can do both?” Holly asked.

  “If I may, Holly,” Aeolionaias said.

  She glanced at him and nodded.

  “Your gun works for reach already. And the fighting we’re doing is helpful for close combat.”

  “The chap has some points.”

  Odeon came to stand beside her and touched her shoulder. “Pick what feels right, Holly.”

  Their voices were distracting her, but they meant well. Her gaze had settled on a set of sleek knives. “Tell me about these,” she said quietly, picking two of them up. They were black, smooth, hilt-less, and they felt perfectly balanced in her hand.

  Aeolionaias picked up another by the dull handle and tossed it and caught it again. “These are throwing knives. They hide up your sleeve. An old tool from Earth, but one that existed on Yaso as well, and I believe the Centau had a similar idea in circulation.”

  Holly admired their matte-black lines. Shiro, she noticed, was suddenly busy on his communicator with a call, and Odeon stood with his Ousaba balanced on his shoulder, watching Holly.

  “Something about them seems right,” she said to herself.

  “Come with me,” Aeolionaias said. He gathered up more of the knives by the smooth handles and led her to an area of the training floor, cordoned off and protected from foot traffic. Shiro, though he was on a call, followed them. Holly overheard some of the conversation. Her skin prickled at the mention of what sounded like the name Aimee Voss. She flashed a look at Odeon, who nodded as though he knew what she was thinking.

  “A training ground for throwing knives,” Aeolionaias said, nodding down a lane toward a humanoid shaped target. “This is a standard distance to begin learning to balance and throw them. If you choose this as your secondary weapon, Holly, you’ll want a standard knife with a hilt as well. Throwing knives aren’t meant to be used in a close combat. Now, this is just for fun.” He waved a knife at the dummy. It stood in front of a wooden panel pockmarked with notches, nicks, and gouges. The Druiviin trainer nodded to the knives in her hands. “Try throwing them. What comes naturally? That’s what I am interested in.”

  “Fighting the Hands,” Holly began, standing square to the dummy. Odeon and Aeolionaias stepped to her side and out of the way of the knives, “It would have been helpful if I’d had other options. The gun relies on parts that can break and ammunition cartridges that can run out, as well as aether coils.” The idea of throwing a knife felt awkward, but she’d never learn if she didn’t give it a shot. She balanced one of the knives in her hand and stared down the lane at the dummy.

  Odeon relaxed against his club, using it to prop himself up. “You did well against the Hands. Another option to protect yourself is smart, Holly. I agree that it would be nice to have the knives up your sleeve for if something happens to your first line of defense.”

  “Or attack,” Shiro said, joining them, his communicator put away.

  “We still need to get the hydrantium to Xadrian,” Holly said, taking a deep breath and then throwing the knife. She’d given it her all, but the knife merely clattered against the wooden backdrop and fell to the ground. “Well, that was pointless.”

  “Again, Holly,” Aeolionaias said.

  She obliged, but felt her face burning at being so terrible at something that seemed so easy. The knife went wide and hit the wooden panel of another throwing lane.

  “Your form is promising, Holly,” Aeolionaias said. “That will make a difference. Now, let me show you how it’s done. And then you can try again.”

  Holly moved off the lane and watched as the trainer threw three knives at the dummy. The first landed squarely in the forehead. The second in the heart. The third in the arm. “It can be deadly. It can maim. It will depend on what you want.”

  “If I want it. Or perhaps I’ll choose something else.”

  “Any weapon will require training. Try again and use the tips I gave you. It will help you make your decision. Does it feel natural to you?”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t feel unnatural.”

  “Try again and see.”

  Holly stepped into the lane as the trainer moved away. He handed her another knife. She let her breath out and flexed her shoulders, then tried to imitate the movements she’d seen him do. This time the knife stuck into the board instead of falling to the ground. It felt better.

  “Improving already. Holly Drake, I think we have found your match.” Aeolionaias smiled.

  She flexed her fingers and nodded, considering what her future might look like as a rogue-type with knives hidden up her sleeves. Her parents would never approve—she was becoming someone with ambiguous values, the sorts of criminals they’d fought against. Wasn’t she? Still, there was something immensely satisfying in seeing the knife plunge deep into the wood and stick there. She held out her hand, taking another knife from Aeolionaias, giving Odeon a sly smile. His eyes danced.

  Before she could throw again, her communicator buzzed. She pulled the small oval from her trouser pocket and looked at it—it was the call she’d been expecting, but sort of hoping might never come.

  She sighed. “It’s Xadrian.”

  “Ah, the flashy lad with the questionable background. Come to claim his reward?” Shiro twirled his cane.

  “At
least it’s not Voss,” Holly teased.

  Shiro blinked. “You assume my call was from Aimee Voss?”

  Holly shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood for his denials. Instead she took the call from Xadrian with a polite apology to Aeolionaias as she stepped away from the knife-throwing lane.

  “There you are, HD,” Xadrian said over the communicator.

  “Yes, XT. Me. None other than.”

  “You know what this is about. The deal?”

  “I’m ready to take you out to collect the hydrantium. I have a crew on standby.”

  “Finally. This has been longer than I had intended to wait to get my goods—I have clients waiting.”

  “As I’ve said before, the circumstances wouldn’t have been conducive to getting your goods alive if we’d done it the way we’d initially planned.”

  “And when shall I expect to accompany you to retrieve it, HD?”

  “Not too long now. We’ll be ready in a day and a half.”

  TWO

  Holly sat strapped in aboard the Olavia Apollo next to Trip Taurus. Nearby Odeon and Xadrian debated the benefits of having live music in the Glassini Wine Bar. It was the first time in a long while that Holly recalled seeing Odeon speak to or acknowledge Xadrian at all, though she knew they knew each other. Xadrian frequented the bar and Odeon played there often. It was how she’d met Odeon initially.

  “Of course it’s lovely. That’s not the argument. The argument is that it doesn’t matter. People like me would still go there,” Xadrian said.

  “I cannot trust a human to know these things—to be aware of the many dimensions of emotion, the labyrinth inside their soul. A human is more lost than that half-human monster, the fabled minotaur and its quarry when it comes to what moves them and what calms them.”

  Holly raised an eyebrow as she overheard Odeon’s answer to Xadrian. It wasn’t necessarily wrong, she realized, though she wasn’t quite sure if a Yasoan was any better at finding their way through the mists that obscured motive and desire. She knew what calmed her. The uncertainty of space flight certainly did not calm her and the remembrance of a past experience created a crater of anxiety deep within her. Odeon’s singing always worked like a salve against the fears, but this time she’d convinced her friend to focus on other things rather than concern himself with her. But she felt that she could hear in his voice a note of irritation.