The Seekers of Knight (The Seekers Trilogy, Book Two) (The Watchers Series 5)

by T. C. Edge

  Her worlds are cold and callous but necessary and true. Death is just a part of war that is unavoidable. It doesn’t matter what we do, we won’t be able to prevent everyone from dying.

  “OK,” says Jackson, surveying the action and compiling a plan. “Athena is right. We need to act, and we need to do it now. We will move into the city, and split up, coming at the square from various angles. If we can get a few of the enemy’s top brass in our sights, we take them down. It will cause panic, and hopefully they won’t see it coming. We’ll try to usher as many people to safety as possible in the chaos.”

  He waits for us to nod before moving off to pass the orders to the other soldiers and Watchers. As he does, a strange feeling of dread begins to build up inside me. My heart starts to race. My breathing grows shorter and more abbreviated. My eyes narrow, imbued with a fresh intensity.

  To my side, Velia slips closer to me, noticing.

  “Theo…are you all right?” she asks.

  I barely hear her. Instead, I lift my eyes to Athena, who’s own façade has darkened. Ajax, too, has gone quiet, suddenly introspective, blinking as his gaze swings over to the hanger door.

  “What’s going on?” asks Velia again, yet to be swamped by the same sensation. Then, suddenly, her eyes pull down, and her pupils dilate, and a whisper falls from her lips. “We’re not alone…”

  Walking slowly, methodically, Cyra passes me, moving towards the hanger door. I watch as she inches closer to the small window that looks out at the wide open space beyond, and the tall towers of the city in the distance.

  For a few moments, she stares out, before turning.

  Suddenly, the entire hanger is completely silent as she speaks.

  “They’re here,” she says. “They must have seen us coming…”

  29

  Battle Royale

  Towards the door, my father marches, speaking as he goes. “Who’s here?” he asks.

  No one speaks as he reaches the window and answers his own question.

  “Oh my God,” I hear him say quietly.

  From the back, one of the soldiers calls out: “What is it, sir? What’s going on?”

  Jackson turns, his knuckles white as he grips hard at his weapon. “The Seekers,” he says. “They’re all outside.”

  A wave of fear spreads across the troop of our soldiers. It doesn’t land with the rest of us. We all look to one another, our eyes turning as hard as oak, every fibre of our bodies tensing and ready for action.

  Then I see a smile grind up Athena’s face.

  “Good,” she says. “Now we get to face them head on.” Her gaze sweeps to her Watchers. “To the front,” she whispers harshly.

  Jackson, meanwhile, takes a step away from the door, ordering his men to find cover from which to snipe from. “We offer support,” he says. “Lay down fire. Be careful with you aim.”

  The hanger becomes a rush as everyone speeds to their positions. I look to Cyra and Ajax and Velia, and we pass nods down the line.

  Then, from the control panel to the door, Athena turns to us all.

  “Focus,” she says. “Search the Void and cover each other’s backs. We outnumber them four Watchers to one. Those are good odds for me.”

  I see some gritty smiles spread around the Watchers, but can only think that most of them will offer no threat all. Athena must know it too.

  Still, she’d never say such a thing, and I feel guilty for even thinking it. With her hand on the button, she counts down from three to one, my heart galloping faster and faster as each second passes.

  Then, with a loud click, the hanger door begins to rise up, once more grinding towards the ceiling and retreating before our eyes. Bright light spills in from outside, and beyond, standing about twenty metres from the hanger door, the four Seekers await us, standing in a line, all wrapped in their black cloaks with their faces hidden under the shadow of their hoods.

  A short lull ensues. As the door reaches its end, no one acts. Then, from nowhere, I hear my father’s voice roar from the back.

  “OPEN FIRE!”

  Immediately, the deafening sound of exploding bullets fills the morning air. From behind, my father’s strike force fire from their positions. From the front, the rest of us kneel and steady our weapons to our shoulders, spreading a wall of bullets at the four boys ahead of us. The flashing is so wild and blinding that I can barely see what’s in front of me, barely see it as the boys glide away, sliding left and right, up and down, gradually moving backwards from the ferocious attack.

  After thirty seconds of endless fire, my father calls a halt to the barrage. The dust begins to settle, and we look again to see the boys standing as they were, only a few short paces back.

  They’re luring us into the open…

  A second attack is ordered. This time, we vary the threat, some pouring out regular bullets, others sending explosive rounds at the boy’s feet, and a few scattering the earth with fire as incendiaries burst to life.

  The carnage ahead blinds us, however, making it impossible to see where they’ve gone. Naively expecting to finish the job there, I hear a couple of soldiers and Watchers let out a cheer as the firing stops, and the world ahead cracks and burns. Moments later, a breeze sweeps in, dragging away the flames and dust, and leaving behind only the sight of four identical figures, now even further back than they were.

  “This isn’t going to work,” calls Athena. “We need to fight them up close. Blades out,” she shouts.

  From their armour, the Watchers draw swords and knives from various slots. Velia and Cyra do the same, while Ajax and I take our retractable weapons in hand. And together, walking in a line, we begin moving out of the hanger, and into the morning sunshine.

  I look out to the left and right, at the many hangers lined up along the edge of the city. I look ahead, at the buildings in the distance that signal the start of the residential part of the city. I look across the grand open space around us, and see no sign of any enemy support. No soldiers. No mercenaries. No one here for us except these clones of Augustus Knight.

  Is it hubris that they’re here all alone? Or is it merely confidence? It won’t take long to find out…

  We fan out, spreading ourselves around them, twenty of so sets of eyes all watching each other, all searching for the first attack. Soon enough, we have them enclosed between us, and yet they haven’t even moved, haven’t changed their formation. Still, they just stand in a line, hidden in black.

  Their reaction seems like it’s delayed, but it’s anything but. Slowly but surely, with total ease, they begin turning to face us, four sides of a square looking out. I look around our group, and see that we’re well dispersed.

  Athena stands ahead of me, flanked by two of her Watchers. To the right is Ajax, with one of the more powerful of Athena’s warriors for company. Cyra is to my left with the other. And alongside me, Velia primes herself for action, with the rest of Athena’s troop littered here and there.

  Step by step, we close in on them, swords and daggers and spears glinting bright under the sun. Then, from their belts, I see all four of them simultaneously reach into their cloaks and draw out long knives of their own. They do so without looking at each other, the telepathic link between them seemingly allowing them to act as one, like a single organism with eight arms and eight eyes, able to view us from any angle, defend from any strike.

  Several metres from them, we all stop, their heads still slightly ducked low, only the bottom halves of their faces emerging from the shadow. I look over to Athena, whose eyes quickly sweep across to all of us. And then, suddenly, she makes her move.

  She reacts like lightning, flashing forward towards the Seeker ahead of her. To her sides, three other Watchers pounce in behind as she slices across at her enemy. He brings his knife up to defend himself just as the rest of us join the fight.

  Left and right, the corners of my eyes catch sight of my mother, and my best friend, meeting their foes with clashing swords and spears. And as they m
ove, so do I, and do does Velia next to me. With an additional two Watchers supporting us, we dive straight in, four blades cutting straight down on the hooded clone, calmly standing before us.

  His movement is so fast and so late. Just as our swords are about to hit, he twists and turns between them, flashing with his own dagger to deflect the swipes he can’t avoid. I can only imagine how they must look to any spectator, the four of them moving almost as one, dancing together as over a dozen blades attempt to cut them down.

  It seems, for a moment, that they’re feeling us out, and luring us in. Then, in a sudden move, they all strike forward at exactly the same time, identifying the weakest among us. Their blades all find the flesh of four of Athena’s Watchers, cutting through them with fatal strokes, driving straight through their armour like it’s nothing. Blood sprays and spurts from four chests, four hearts pierced and quickly giving out. Immediately, our numbers are reduced by a quarter, four bodies now lying on the sleek floor, seeping crimson around our feet.

  It all happened so fast that I barely saw it, and with such cohesion that it truly feels as if we’re fighting a single foe. Not once did they look to each other, or utter a word. There was no sign that they’d agreed when and whom to strike. It just happened, their knives cutting off lives and then quickly retreating, standing again as a four as they look out at us.

  We take a breath, and in the brief lull a roar suddenly pours from Athena’s mouth. I look into her eyes and see a burning river of fire flowing down her face as she once more charges in and resumes the battle.

  We all do the same, my focus complete and total. All around goes blurred, just the Seeker ahead of me clear. He floats and glides as if walking on air, moving like I’ve never seen anyone move. It seems as if he has no trouble at all, a small smile of joy laughing on his thin lips as he finally gets to engage in battle, finally gets to do what he was born to do, bred to do.

  I hate the look. It’s a look that tells me this is nothing but a game to him. That says we’re no challenge at all, and if he wanted he could just strike out, along with the others, and end another four lives.

  The thought angers me, but I don’t allow my emotions to rise. I do as Athena told me, taught me. I focus deeper, narrow my attention to him alone, and forget about the others. Hard as it is, I allow concerns for my mother and friends to slip from my mind. I calm my breathing and steady the beating of my heart, and enter a state of complete relaxation.

  And in that state, I act.

  Moving forward, I begin to see his own display more clearly. I can sense where he’s coming from, where he’s moving to. The shape of his limbs as they glide, the direction of his torso as it twists; I see it all, and feel it all, and begin to determine where his body will end up next.

  And soon, a little smile joins my own lips as I begin to flow like he is, fight like he is, our blades missing and clashing in equal measure. I look to his face and see that the smile is beginning to fall, that under his hood, within the shadow, his eyes are starting to narrow.

  Velia continues to join the fight with me, her own attacks beginning to grow more acute and accurate. The Seeker’s movement grow a little more erratic and less graceful, and I see that the others are doing the same. Athena stands tall, her slim and lithe physique gliding as they are, matching her foe with every step he takes. Cyra and Ajax, too, stand toe to toe and don’t give anything away, all of us now tightening our grip, closing in once more.

  Soon, the Seekers begin to break up, and so does the fighting. They burst free, moving away, drawing us into separate groups as they give themselves more space and freedom to move. Now, suddenly, there’s no symbiosis between them, each of them becoming his own entity.

  In our little groups, we appear to spar evenly now, the clones surprised, perhaps, by our abilities. Never before will they have encountered someone like Athena, hardened by two decades of hunting and searching the Void. Maybe, after being trained by Knight’s Terror, they considered him the pinnacle of what they’d face.

  Oh, how wrong they are.

  Nor, would they expect to find such fight in me, or Ajax, or Velia. Even Cyra, known to have turned from her powers, may have been underestimated. Our time training in the Grid, adding layers to our abilities, has clearly paid off.

  Maybe we do have a chance…

  I feel a growing surge of hope as the battle goes on. In my extreme focus, however, I don’t notice a couple more bodies fall, two more Watchers feeling the sting of one of the Seekers’ blades. In a flash, I notice the blood seeping across the ground, and see that our numbers are being further reduced.

  And then, one of them shows his true colours.

  It’s the one fighting with Athena who appears to change. I flash my eyes on him and see that he’s taken out those fighting alongside her. He cuts them down in one, and then advances on her, slicing his dagger across her body and cutting into her arm. She staggers back as Cyra dashes over to help, and in that moment, my own focus begins to wane.

  It just takes a moment like that, and suddenly I’m on the back foot. From nowhere, my own foe sees his chance, rattling the butt of his knife across my face, sending me staggering back. Velia, looking at me, is also quickly dispatched. I hit the floor hard, blinking through my blurring eyes, and see that only Ajax and Cyra fight on unharmed, the others nursing injuries or sprawled on the floor.

  I try to get to my feet, but feel the force of another blow. It’s not a cutting knife, however, that meets my flesh, but a fist designed to knock me down but not end me.

  The others get the same treatment, forced back by the sudden ferociousness of one Seeker in particular. I see my mum hit the dirt, and then Ajax too. One by one, we’re incapacitated, knocked down but not killed.

  And then, with us all on the floor, a flood of soldiers suddenly come running from all angles, enclosing us. They come forward and bind our wrists as I look at the carnage, at the many Watchers lying in pools of blood.

  But not us. Not my friends and family. We’ve been spared…for now.

  My eyes then turn to the hanger, searching for my father. But I see no sign of him or his men. Soldiers go rushing in as one of the Seekers approaches me again. And on his face, I see that the smile has returned.

  They were always going to win.

  30

  Lambs to Slaughter

  We’re chucked unceremoniously into the back of a truck. I look across my allies to see that they’re all OK, groggy from the fight but nothing more. Only Athena’s body spills much blood, crimson dripping from her upper right arm where the Seeker found a space between her armour. Using her shackled hands, my mother quickly tears off a piece of fabric from Athena’s outer shirt and wraps it tight, cutting off the flow of blood.

  Other than our little band, only a couple of Watchers remain, the rest of Athena’s troop having been easily dispatched. It’s no surprise to me that both are the ones most prized by their mentor, the only ones capable of defending themselves against such foes.

  I dread to think what would have happened were we not adorned in such armour as we are. Our bodies carry signs of many near misses, little slices appearing on our black bodysuits. And yet, when it came to it, we weren’t killed. They had us at their mercy, and yet they didn’t act.

  Why…

  It doesn’t take long for my query to be answered. As we glide through the city in the hovertruck, I notice that we’re heading straight for the centre, gathered together and herded like the rest. When the truck stops, and the doors open, the light that spills in briefly blinds me. We’re ushered out by the soldiers and the scene before me clears. Ahead, right where the President held his coronation, flocks of luminaries stand in huddles, tightly locked together into a pen.

  We’re pushed towards them, our hands bound in front of us, and sent in to join the rest. These men and women, who so recently were sat in the same space, proudly watching a new man ascend to the summit of the city, are now here as captives. Their own arms are bound, some of them s
porting signs of a fight on their faces. The faces of many others shine with tears, all of them with cowering and fearful eyes as men with guns surround them.

  We’re pushed into the bunch, and my eyes spot Leeta there, her plump cheeks pinker than ever and her usually well manicured hair dishevelled and out of place. It looks like many were taken during the night, few dressed as they usually would be in their full regalia, unceremoniously dragged from their beds like lambs to slaughter.

  Because that’s why they’re here, and they know it all too well. Around us, dozens of soldiers stand with their machine guns pointing straight at us. When the order it given, they’ll open fire. Most will drop dead in seconds, suffering no pain. We who can see into the Void, however, will watch our deaths coming from afar, unable to do anything about it.

  Now, as I look ahead, I see the reason our lives were spared. Moving before us, stepping up into a little stage, Baron Reinhold saunters with an air of victory pulsing from his body. With him I see other men I recognise: Lord Kendrik and Count Lopez, other members of the Cabal whose pictures I’ve seen. And right to his left, the smug face of President Alber appears, not a glint of guilt in his eyes.

  “TRAITOR!” comes a sudden shout from the crowd.

  Others join in, calling the man out, losing their own sense of dignity as they spit in his direction and curse his name.

  I see him look in shock at the reaction he’s getting, before his face thunders and he stamps his feet like a petulant child. The crowd only shout louder, some of them trying to break free of the cordon, scampering to the stage.

  A sudden flurry of bullets fills the air. I watch as two men and a women are gunned down near the President’s feet. The people hush and go quiet, their cries of hatred and anger turning to those of fear. Alber himself looks down at the bodies with stark eyes, Senators and Mayors and other leaders he might once have called friends.