Glyph

by T. M. Catron

  Grabbing onto a wet tree branch above with her other hand, she watched the Condarri fall to the ground with a terrifying thud.

  Knowing her work was not over, she dropped down on top of it before it could recover and plunged her knife into its neck.

  She must have hit an artery. Silver blood flew out of the wound, hitting Calla in the face. She stabbed, again and again, deeper and deeper until she thought her arm would disappear inside the Condarri’s body.

  Cold, silver blood was everywhere, stinging Calla’s exposed arms and face like ice. It was so thick, the rain didn’t even wash it off.

  As the Condarri lay bleeding beneath her, Calla cursed it. And its one-time hold over her.

  It gave one more feeble attempt to swipe at her, but she slashed at its outstretched claws.

  Traitor, it said finally, and then went still.

  The adarria on its chest stirred, moving with its final words.

  Horrified, Calla stood to watch the symbols. A strange welling sensation began in her chest at the realization that she had harmed the adarria. She had always revered them.

  Then they went still, too.

  The Condarri lay in a pool of thick, silver blood. It was everywhere, on the rocks, on Calla, inside the grooves of the adarria adorning the creature.

  Calla sank down onto its chest, tempted to drive her blade into its heart in a final triumphant gesture. Instead, she dropped the knife. It fell, clattering against the Condarri’s body as if it were stone, and then onto the ground.

  As she sat atop her prize, Calla gazed at the trees without seeing.

  Now that she had conquered her master, did she feel different? She waited for a revelation, for a surge of power. But it didn’t come. How long would it take?

  She had expected to feel the aether surrounding her, hers to command. Calla looked at her hands covered in blood. It was beginning to congeal, stiffening on her skin like clay. She flexed her fingers, and bits of it flaked off.

  A stirring in the trees caught her eye, and she jerked her head up, anticipating another Condarri.

  It was the hybrids. They watched Calla silently from beneath the trees. In the dark, their bodies stood out against the gray foliage like wraiths in the forest. Watching her, judging her. Although Cummings had not originally joined the hunting party, he was there too. Calla noted respect in his gaze… and fear.

  And then she realized—it had all been a test. The rogues had wanted to see if she were really one of them. That’s why they hadn’t helped her.

  Calla climbed to her feet, standing on top of the felled giant.

  Now, will you follow me? she asked.

  They replied as one. Yes.

  “And what are you going to do if Condar finds us again? How will we get away? You’re leaving us to be slaughtered!”

  Grace stood with Doyle in the cockpit of the Nomad. He was going over every inch of the ship himself, checking it for potential structural or system problems. Anything that caught his eye was given attention, even if it was just a scratch. Where he was going, one hiccup would be a death sentence.

  As soon as Grace had found out he was leaving, she’d come to find him.

  “The program Surrey is working on will be up and running before I get back.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “And what’s stopping any of you from trying to pilot the Factory yourselves?”

  “None of us have your power with the aether. Teach me.”

  “What?”

  “How do you do it? You’ve changed, you know. Nick told me…” She paused. Doyle could sense her indecision.

  “And just what did Nick tell you?” Doyle’s sharp tone spurred Grace into speaking.

  “In Hawaii, you were prepared to kill a Condarri if you needed to.”

  Doyle’s mouth formed a thin, hard line.

  “Then it’s true,” she whispered even though no one else was aboard to hear. “Are you prepared to go that far, Dar Ceylin?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You were the most trusted out of all of us. I don’t know how to believe you.”

  “You better,” he said. “Because I’ve already done it.”

  Grace gaped at him. “You”—she choked—“You killed that Condarri in the forest?”

  Doyle met her eyes and nodded.

  “Who else knows?”

  “Mina and Calla.”

  “Calla? And she didn’t turn you in?”

  “She didn’t get a chance.”

  “So that’s how you’re communicating with the adarria, how you’ve grown so strong. Doyle, this makes it worse. We’ll never be able to pilot the Factory if something happens to you. We can’t just learn it.”

  “Yes, you can. If you’re found, we have a Condarri ready and waiting in the detention center.”

  Grace gasped. “No—”

  “Then don’t lecture me about duty if you can’t live up to yours!” Doyle glared at her, using a voice she didn’t dare argue with even though they were friends.

  When Grace found her voice, she whispered, “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I think I know better than you.” He turned, finished with the conversation.

  Grace stood up straighter. “I never imagined… Can I ask why?”

  Because of Mina, he almost said. But he couldn’t say that to Grace. “I wanted to be free,” he said instead.

  He was telling the truth—partially. But if he hadn’t had to step in to save Mina’s life, he might never have taken that final step toward rebellion. And Grace wouldn’t understand if he told her he was leading one million hybrids against Condar because of a human woman.

  But Grace wasn’t stupid. She narrowed her eyes, sensing his lie by omission. The question formed behind her eyes, but she didn’t dare speak it aloud. Maybe she figured she’d asked enough questions already.

  Doyle didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. “Dismissed,” he said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Of all the stupid risks Mina had taken since she met Doyle, this was the most idiotic. He would be furious, but once they were at their destination, he wouldn’t be able to go back. And she didn’t think he would leave her on the Nomad in enemy territory.

  Part of her regretted forcing his hand. But Doyle was so used to getting his way that he didn’t think others had a stake in what he was doing as well. Although Mina didn’t really know what he was doing. After what the Glyph had told her last night, she was more curious than ever.

  Before he left, Doyle came to see her. It was the night cycle, but everyone was awake. Lincoln and team had been working all day, and despite their mistrust of Doyle, they weren’t happy about him leaving. Even Alvarez knew he was their source of protection on the ship.

  Doyle spoke with Lincoln a moment, getting an update. Then he pulled Mina aside. “What’s with Alvarez?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She hasn’t taken her eyes off me since I came in.”

  Mina sighed. “I think it’s because of your involvement with me.”

  “My involvement?” He smiled, but it was almost obligatory, forced.

  “She thinks there’s something going on between us.”

  Doyle frowned.

  “Is that a problem? I mean, it’s sort of true.” Mina bit her lower lip, waiting for his rejection.

  “Mina…” He shifted on his feet. Mina hadn’t seen him look so uncomfortable since he’d told her he was a hybrid. He glanced around at the others. “If something happens and I don’t come back—”

  “No, don’t say it.”

  “Yes, I will say it. The hybrids will elect a new leader, or fight for one. If I don’t come back, stick with Grace as long as you can.”

  Mina’s eyes widened, and she had trouble keeping the panic out of her voice as she said, “As long as we can? What does that mean?”

  Doyle took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. “It’s still safer for you to stay here than to go with me. I hope y
ou know that.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  “I know. But if the Condarri find us, it will be worse than anything you’d experience here on the Factory.”

  Mina shuddered. She didn’t like to think what would happen to her on the Factory if Doyle didn’t return.

  “If it were an option,” Doyle said, “I’d take you back to Earth. At least there I know you can hide and survive.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t just drop me off there after all I’ve seen. There’s no going back, Doyle.”

  “No, I guess not,” he whispered.

  He put his hand on her cheek and leaned in. But all Mina could think about was betraying him by pretending to say goodbye. Try as she might, she couldn’t feel like this was the end because it wasn’t. She also didn’t want him to brush up against her adarre and see her thoughts. She hadn’t yet learned to close them off to him.

  Doyle sensed Mina's stiffness and leaned away. A look of hurt flickered through his eyes. Mina had never seen that on him before, and it almost made her burst out and tell him everything. She caught his hand as he dropped it.

  “I don’t want to say goodbye,” she said. “Because it’s not goodbye, is it?”

  His face hardened, the sharp lines harsher than ever. “If you say so.”

  Stung, Mina took a step back. She had hurt him, then. Had that ever happened before? Guilt washed over her, but she pushed it down. She couldn’t, wouldn’t say goodbye. Even if she weren’t planning on going with him, this was for the best.

  “Goodbye, Mina,” he whispered. “Remember what I told you about Grace if it comes to it.”

  And with that, Mina knew he wasn’t planning on returning. Was the Glyph right? Was he going to his fate? And why would he go anywhere if he didn’t think he was coming back?

  She wanted to question him, but something told her it wouldn’t do any good. In this, Doyle had made up his mind.

  Fine. If he was looking for enlightenment, she hoped he found it.

  He walked out the door without looking back. Mina ignored the others and climbed into bed. Soon, they all slept. The lights dimmed, and Mina waited as long as she dared before creeping out of bed and to the door.

  It opened on her command. At first, she wondered if the adarria would help her, but she needn’t have. Just like the night before, the lights glowed on the ceiling, and she followed. Mina didn’t meet anyone in the corridor and suspected the adarria were leading her away from any potential run-ins.

  The lights didn’t take her to the elevator, but down more tunnels and into shafts where she had to stoop to get through. She encountered two more walls like the one the night before. Each time she was sucked through one, she fought the panic at not being able to breathe. Doyle didn’t know about these, and Mina felt a thrill as she came out in the hangar bay. The Nomad was prepped for take-off, but the stairs leading into the hold were still down.

  At that moment, Doyle landed in the bay, shrouded in the aether, carrying a bag. She had beaten him here. Since no other hybrids were lingering about, Mina guessed he hadn’t told many he was leaving. What would they think about their commander sneaking off to see their enemy?

  Mina had to be careful Doyle didn’t see her, but he seemed preoccupied as he climbed the stairs. Just as Mina made for the stair, Grace came out of the hold, frowning.

  She didn’t stop to watch the ship but strode for the elevator, turning her back to Mina. Mina wouldn’t get another chance. She ran as quickly as she dared and darted up the ladder just in time.

  It closed swiftly. Mina didn’t need to feel the hum of the ship to know that Doyle had taken off. She wandered through the hold and stopped at the foot of the spiral stair. Satisfied he wasn’t coming back down, she walked through to where the biggest doors were. One opened at her touch, revealing a closet full of black uniforms that looked a bit like flight suits. But the material felt more substantial than regular fabric. Hanging above it was a helmet with a transparent mask.

  Curious, Mina pulled a suit out and inspected it further. At the back was a square blockish thing built into the fabric. An oxygen tank, maybe? The next suit hanging behind it was smaller. She looked down at her old clothes, tattered and torn.

  And made a quick decision. Casting off her current clothing, Mina pulled her legs through the flight suit. It wrapped around her body like a glove but didn’t feel so tight as to be uncomfortable. And the strange fabric was surprisingly light and breathable.

  After tucking her old clothes in the back of the closet, Mina opened more doors until she found an empty space. She crammed herself into it, pulling the door closed as much as she dared. Then she settled back against the cold metal wall.

  Now all she had to do was wait.

  The band of rogue hybrids raced through the trees, following the wounded Condarri like a pack of wolves hunting a buffalo.

  Calla was surprised it had run. But after the fifth killing, the Condarri had tried to evade the hybrids who ambushed them from trees and piles of rock. She had thought the aliens would stop traveling alone, but the race of Condar was arrogant, refusing to be afraid of its own creations.

  Except for this one.

  It jumped over a stream gurgling down the mountain and into thick vegetation surrounding the water. The rogues followed, gaining momentum. A few more seconds and they would be within striking distance.

  The first hybrid sprang onto the Condarri’s back, driving its sturdy blade into the alien’s spinal column.

  Fool, Calla called. Their armor is thickest there.

  The Condarri screeched and swung around, sending the hybrid flying into a rock wall. He thudded against the stone and slid twenty feet to the ground. More hybrids launched themselves onto its back, stabbing, hacking at the alien.

  This one was swift and quickly tossed three more aside before a fourth managed to drive his blade under the rib cage.

  After that, killing it was quick work. Calla walked up to deliver the death blow to its neck. She stared it in the eye as it died, again hoping to feel the aether’s power transferred to her.

  Again, nothing. She heaved off the creature in frustration. Six Condarri dead, and Calla still had no more power than when she had begun. How had Doyle done it? The hybrids nursed various injuries, but none of them were seriously injured. The first time the whole band had attacked, four had died before Calla managed to join the fray and kill the Condarri. Since then, they had become more skillful.

  But the Condarri were learning too.

  Calla was still surprised they hadn’t banded together to help each other. More Condarri arrived every day, flooding the mine and surrounding mountain in a never-ending tide of terrifying, armored soldiers.

  Cummings came up beside her. He had again watched from the sidelines. It was his job to analyze the way the Condarri fought. To look for weaknesses. Even though it had been Calla’s idea, she still despised him for it.

  “What do you think?” he asked, staring at the body.

  “This one is a newcomer,” Calla said. “See how the adarria are different? It must have just arrived from the portal.”

  Cummings knelt down to feel its silver blood between two fingers. “Why aren’t they hunting us? Why leave these new ones to die before they’ve even accomplished anything here?”

  “We don’t know why they’re here, but maybe they don’t help each other because they don’t trust each other.”

  “On the Factory, when we were offspring, the Condarri always presented a united front.”

  “But they are a warrior race. Admitting they need help is a weakness.”

  Cummings gave Calla a shrewd look. “Not unlike the hybrids.”

  “No,” she said grimly. “Or humans.”

  Cummings snorted. “You are beginning to sound like Doyle did before he left. Where do you think he is now?”

  “Plotting something, no doubt. He was always good at scheming.”

  “Really? I thought he was more of a dutiful soldier.”<
br />
  “You don’t get to be Dar Ceylin by simply following orders.”

  “Hm,” was all he said.

  After another minute of examining the Condarri blood, Cummings stood. “Any sense of the aether?”

  Calla shook her head. “Why aren’t the Condarri using it to fight us?”

  “Good question. But I’m glad they aren’t, or these little hunting parties would be suicide missions. We couldn’t fight a Condarri and the aether at the same time.”

  “No one fights the aether.”

  “Except Doyle.”

  The mention of his name again rankled Calla. She sniffed. “Doyle doesn’t fight it, he uses it. And that’s why I—”

  Shouts came from around the glade. Calla and Cummings jerked their heads in the direction of the pointing.

  They’re here, he said.

  With a chill, Calla saw the first Condarri warrior stride through the trees. This one wasn’t merely gathering data or exploring. It was armed with a long rifle-looking weapon, ready to fire.

  The first blast of light flew over their heads, striking a tree and causing it to explode into wood shrapnel. Calla protected her head with her arms as splinters rained down on their hunting party.

  “Another one!” a hybrid shouted.

  Not just another one. Five more warriors, armed and already firing.

  The hybrids scattered, diving under any cover they could find. Calla dove behind the dead Condarri’s body for protection, but she couldn’t stay there. Cummings followed her, and they exchanged glances as more trees exploded in bursts of light.

  So much for not protecting the newcomers, he said.

  Calla jerked her head toward a pile of boulders that disappeared into thick trees above. Between the blasts, Calla and Cummings grabbed onto the rocks, flinging themselves up as more blasts followed them. Rock exploded around them, creating big chunks of stone that pelted them and dust that clung to the inside of their nostrils.

  Once they reached the trees, they paused to lay down and watch what was happening below. One of the rogues had been killed by two Condarri who were currently fighting over his dead body.