New Dawn (Divine War Book 1)

by Tor, Magus

  He reached for the huge, double-bladed axe that hung from a rack on the wall, lifting it as though it weighed no more than a pillow. Hefting it thoughtfully, he turned to Ausanne.

  “But I go first,” he said and activated the EM shield on the battle axe, which would allow him to parry off the energy bolt.

  The corridor outside the room was charred and littered with bodies. To his satisfaction and pride, Dan saw that most of the dead were Black Knights, the feared soldiers of the Magi Lords. His men had done well here. An energy bolt whooshed down the corridor, skimming so close to them that they could feel its heat, before smashing into a wall and exploding. They could hear the cries of battle coming from not far away, and Dan braced himself before turning to the princess.

  “Ready?” he said.

  “Ready,” she responded.

  And without looking back, he led her around the corner and into the heat of battle.

  The ship's men were in phalanx, the front row of fighters equipped with portable plasma shields that could protect those behind from the searing energy bolts that flew around them.

  “Men!” shouted Dan over the cries and screams and shouts. “To death!”

  The phalanx parted, enveloping Dan and Ausanne into its dark centre, and the corridor vibrated with the cheers of the ship's crew. Goddamn if they aren't enjoying this, Ausanne thought.

  She had never been in battle before, and the smells and stenches were unfamiliar to her. As too was the steady thrum of adrenaline through her body as she parried and stabbed and fought with the others to keep the phalanx moving forwards, to stop the Black Knights from getting past. Her arm ached with the weight of her sword, but still she pushed on, knowing that death was inevitable and welcoming it with every thrust of her weapon.

  An energy bolt flew past her head, singeing her hair even as she ducked. And when she regained her balance, she saw that the bolt had hit the man to her left. Quickly, she sheathed her sword, catching him under the arms just as he was about to fall. The strict rectangular formation of the phalanx was already beginning to spread, as more and more Black Knights appeared, and it was easy for Ausanne to pull the young officer sideways and out of the line of fire.

  Propping him up against a wall, she saw where the bolt had hit his armoured shoulder, and she knew that the armour itself was now super-heated and injuring him even further. Wrapping her hands in her cloak, she tugged at his armour, which ripped off with a sickening sucking sound that meant she had taken flesh as well as metal. Looking at the officer, she was grateful that he was still unconscious, but he wouldn't be for much longer. Desperately she searched the soldier's pockets for his pain annihilator, and after what seemed like forever, she found the small capsule. With hands slippery from the officer's blood, she managed to uncap the shot and plunge it deep into the meat of his thigh. When he woke up, if he woke up, he would feel nothing. And if the Gods were merciful, the Black Knights would think the man already dead and leave him to tell the story of the Sanosis.

  Ausanne laid a hand on the officer's forehead, then took his bolt blaster from his hand. He had no use for it now. The bolt blaster had only five of the eight shots left. She searched his utility belt for extra energy cartridges. There were none. She would have to make do with the five and make them count.

  Wiping the sweat from her brow, Ausanne stood and surveyed the corridor. Dead soldiers from both sides were scattered around, and the phalanx had finally broken apart with too few men to sustain it now. Raising the bolt blaster, she fired through the open corridor, taking down five black-clad officers who were encroaching upon her men. One after another, the Black Knights fell; and, pleased that her marksmanship skills hadn't weakened, Ausanne tucked the blaster into her belt. No more men followed their fallen comrades, the flood of Black Knights seemed to have paused for a moment, and she saw Dan leaning on the handle of his axe. She was about to go to him when there was a flash of movement and a small silver ball rolled down the very centre of the hallway.

  “Sonic grenade!” shouted Dan, jumping so that his axe clattered to the floor.

  He sprang towards her, hitting her full in the stomach, pulling her down and rolling around the corner just as the grenade exploded. The sonic wave rushed down the hallway, crushing the internal organs of those unfortunate enough to be in the way. Those who had sheltered behind walls were rendered immediately unconscious, and Dan's last thought as he faded into blackness was that he had saved his princess.

  In the wake of the sonic grenade, a new flow of Black Knights streamed down the corridor, slaughtering everything in their way and meeting no resistance. The princess's garb was unmistakable, and as soon as a Knight spotted her deep red cloak, they were upon her. But Dan was beginning to regain consciousness, and he felt the trembling footsteps of the Knights as they approached.

  With bleary eyes he blinked, trying to make his synapses connect, trying to put the pieces together, until finally a picture emerged. Grabbing at the first weapon he could find, the bolt blaster tucked into Ausanne's belt, he stood, legs shaking, and faced the oncoming Knights.

  His finger hovered over the trigger until he was sure he had a fatal shot, and then he pulled. And pulled. And pulled again. Only after the third time did he recognise the empty hiss of the blaster. The damn thing had no charge. It was empty. So. This was it. This was death. And a rush of manic energy overtook his body. Gods be damned, he was going to fight like hell and take the bastards with him. Laughing like a madman, he reversed the blaster in his hand, lashing out at the first of the Black Knights with the handle, beating at him, driving the blunt weapon hard into the man's skull. Blood dripped down his fingers, running down his wrist as he turned to see who would be his next victim.

  But there would be no more victims.

  At the end of the corridor, a tall, thin man in a long black robe pointed his index finger at the princess's bodyguard, and a jet of blue flame shot through Dan’s chest.

  “No!” Dan said, feeling the energy drain from his body. “No, Magi Lord, no. Ausanne...”

  His legs collapsed, and his energy pulled out of him before he even hit the floor. He fell with his princess's name on his lips. Paralysed, unable to move or speak, he could only watch helplessly as the Magi Lord slowly and carefully picked his way down the corridor, stepping over bodies, unhurriedly making his way towards Ausanne.

  When he reached the girl he extended his finger again, a small blue flame glistening from the tip. And as he touched his finger to the girl's lips, she screamed in agony, her eyes flashing open.

  “Awake, Your Highness?” he asked in a hollow, teasing voice that scratched through Dan's ears and rang through his bones.

  Ausanne had never felt such pain in her life. It forced itself through every nerve ending on her body with no abatement, no let up, just constant burning pain so that the few seconds it took the Magi Lord to drag her up from the floor felt like an eternity. It stopped only when the Magi Lord flung her into the arms of the nearest Black Knight, as if the act of pulling his hand away from her pulled all the strings of pain out through her fingertips. She struggled against the hold of the Black Knight, kicking uselessly against his shins.

  “We leave,” ordered the Magi Lord.

  He turned, his robe swinging around, and strode back down the hallway, his Black Knights following him.

  “Lord Hansola.”

  The figure of Captain Gundro appeared at the end of the corridor in the blink of an eye, as though he had magicked himself there, though Ausanne knew that wasn't possible. The Magi Lord halted.

  “Lord Hansola,” said Gundro again. “I do hope that you have not forgotten our agreement.”

  And it was then that Ausanne knew that Gundro was the one who had betrayed her. For a second, anger overcame her fear; but the low, rumbling sound of the Magi Lord's laughter terrified her once more.

  “I have what I came for,” the Magi Lord said. He turned to a Black Knight next to him. “Kill him. Sink the ship.”

&nbs
p; Hansola swept down the hallway, his cloak stroking the faces of dead men. Ausanne's captor walked just slowly enough so that she didn't miss the hiss of the sword that cut her captain's throat. Slung over the Black Knight's shoulder, she looked at Dan, his helpless body lying in the middle of the corridor. He could only watch as his princess was taken from him.

  “My Lord,” said a Black Knight, as the Magi Lord and his entourage crossed from the Sanosis to the dreadnought. “Someone has fled in an escape capsule.”

  “Destroy it,” hissed Lord Hansola. “Destroy everything.”

  And as the powerful thrusters of the dreadnought pushed the ship away from the Sanosis, Ausanne saw shot after shot fired at the black dot of the escape capsule, barely visible across the horizon. And then a brief orange flare exploded where the capsule had been, and Ausanne knew all hope was gone. She sank into a deep, dark dream and hoped that she'd never awaken.

  *

  She came to in an interrogation chamber, her body pressed against a damp wall, her wrists clamped into metal restraints, forcing her to hang, her feet just brushing the floor. The door creaked, and she realised that it had been the clink of the lock that had woken her. Two Black Knights entered, opening the door wide and then standing on either side of the doorway to allow the Magi Lord to enter the small cabin.

  “Princess Ausanne, welcome to my humble ship Orion. I do hope you like your quarters,” said the Magi Lord, his skull-like face beaming.

  “What do you want from me?” Ausanne said, teeth gritted against the pain in her arms.

  “Ah, my princess, straight down to business. I like that. Very well. I need your aid in a few matters.”

  “Never,” said Ausanne.

  Lord Hansola smiled. “I think that you and I need to speak in private.”

  With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the two Black Knights. Even as the Magi Lord began speaking, the Sanosis was sinking, travelling deeper and deeper, down into the black abyss. And as fire caught hold of the ship's engines, one final, huge explosion created a shockwave that pushed the small, damaged escape capsule further away, closer and closer to safety.

  *

  The dead body of the young girl lay on the floor. The masked man carefully wiped his letter opener on a corner of his yellow silk gown and smiled as he looked down at the spy in her white naval uniform.

  “Thank you, my dear,” he said, still smiling, “for finally bringing the last phase of my plan into action.”

  And then the Supreme Emperor laughed, a bitter chuckle.

  Chapter Two

  Maicee pushed a little harder, and his scalpel slid through the wall of the abdominal cavity, crimson blood splattering against his gloved fingers. The lights of the theatre were hot, and he felt sweat beading on his brow as he bit his lip in concentration. Why me? he thought. Of all the damned cases, why me? A damn liver laceration.

  “Suction,” he said, hoping that his voice didn't betray his fear.

  As the blood was sucked away, he could barely see what he was doing, but his hand wasn't trembling. Not yet, at least.

  “Monitor vitals; transfuse another pint of blood. Warm four more pints for standby.”

  “Yes, doctor,” said a sweet, soft voice.

  Falorni was the newest scrub nurse on staff, and Maicee was glad that it was she who had been scheduled to assist him in his final surgical examination. She calmed him, and the Gods knew he needed calming right now.

  He placed a retractor, giving him a better view of the patient's liver, and used a piece of saline-infused gauze to explore the cavity he'd created. And then he smiled to himself under his face screen. Easy. A simple anterior laceration of the left lobe. Grade three. He might actually get out of this with a decent passing mark.

  Working methodically, he controlled the haemorrhaging and reached for fibrin glue to try to close the gaping incision. He frowned as he saw that the glue wasn't taking, blood leaking through the seal. Dammit. He was going to have to suture.

  “Suture,” he snapped at Falorni, not meaning to be rude but intent on his work.

  He could feel the muscles in his back begin to spasm as he bent lower towards his patient, pulling the suture needle in and out, piercing the organ and closing the wound in one continuous row of stitches. There. Not bad. He hunched his shoulders forwards and then stretched them backwards, relieving his aching muscles. Falorni handed him scissors, and he was about to cut the excess thread from the stitches when it happened.

  “Help me... please help me.”

  The voice was faint, the high pitch trailing off towards the end. What the hell? Where had that come from? His concentration shattered, Maicee felt rather than saw what happened next, the solid bite of the scissors as they cut through the liver rather than thread. Gods. Foul-smelling brown matter splashed onto Maicee's face screen. The smell told him what had gone wrong immediately. He'd cut into the patient's colon. Cursing whoever had prepped the patient for not making him undergo the full internal cleansing procedure, Maicee was shaking. He took a deep breath. He could not panic. The lights of the theatre sparkled off metal instruments, and he surveyed the damage. Okay. First he cut the stitch as he'd intended to do. Then he took a step back.

  “Clamp the transverse colon and wash out the cavity,” he said briefly to Falorni. “I need to change gloves and mask.”

  The stench was about to make him retch. Falorni moved into position, hands performing her job automatically as she looked at the young doctor, wondering what had just happened, why the seemingly standard operation had taken a turn for the worse. Shaking her head, she hoped that he'd not done anything wrong. She liked him. He was kind to her. Which was more than most male doctors were.

  Maicee quickly removed his stained gloves and mask, revealing the long, slender fingers that made him such a good surgeon. He'd almost fainted the first time his tutor had told him that he had feminine hands, afraid that his secret had been uncovered. But it hadn't, and he remained his male alter ego. It was something he kept hidden deep inside, not even knowing why it had to be hidden, just knowing that it must. Knowing that there was a faint tingling of danger in his spine every time he undressed in private, every time there was a threat of his secret’s being discovered.

  Gods, what was he doing? This was his final exam. Pull yourself together! Secret or no secret, male or female, if you screw this up you're in for another year of study. Get a grip. He pulled on another set of gloves and a face screen, pushing all thoughts of the pitiful voice he'd heard, all thoughts of secrets, all thoughts of anything but the operation at hand, to the far reaches of his mind.

  “Thank you,” he said to Falorni, resuming his place at the patient's side. “Let's repair that colon.”

  Falorni was already handing him the materials he needed, and deftly he closed the accidental incision that he'd created. He relaxed a little as the stitches held, then quickly closed the patient up before glancing at the monitors to his right. Nodding, he saw that the patient's vital signs were stable. He might have screwed up, might have failed, but the patient would make it, and that was the important thing.

  “He's all yours,” Maicee said to the anaesthetist who had assisted him.

  Then, with a sigh of relief, he stepped away from the table and took off his gown. He thanked Falorni for her help and turned to leave the theatre. As he did so, he caught the eye of the expressionless examiner standing in the corner of the room. He let his glance drop to the floor as he exited. God dammit.

  *

  Maicee stared out of the window at the busy streets of Carooine City. Late evening shoppers were bargaining at the markets, their long robes powdered with the dust of the city streets. Leaning his head against the glass, he couldn't get the afternoon's events out of his mind. He could swear that the voice he’d heard was real. Swear that there had been someone else there in the room. But no one else had reacted. No one else had heard what he’d heard. Maybe he was going crazy. Maybe he'd been working too hard. But a surgeon was all he'd ever wante
d to be. He knew with sure certainty that he was destined to heal, to save, as surely and as inexplicably as he knew he must hide his female identity. He looked at his reflection in the window. Hollow cheeks, high cheek bones. Long blonde hair, tied back in a queue, as was the fashion. Was he going mad?

  “Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” said a jaunty voice.

  Pulling himself away from the window, Maicee turned to see Benho. Tall, dark, handsome, and very, very charming, Benho was his best friend and had been since Maicee had arrived on Carooine when he was eight years old. They'd completed all their studies together, not falling prey to competitiveness, helping each other out when necessary. And now they had taken their final exams at the same time. Benho was grinning, and Maicee wondered if anything ever fazed his friend.

  “I was definitely sweating in the theatre,” said Maicee in answer to Benho's question. “What did you get?”

  The man came over and gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Appendectomy, dead simple. Think I could have done it with my eyes closed. What about you?”

  Maicee shrugged. “Liver laceration and an iatrogenic colonic tear,” he said, wishing that he didn't have to talk about it but knowing that Benho would force him to. His friend liked dissecting his operations almost as much as he liked performing them.

  Benho winced in sympathy, his smooth olive forehead crinkling. “That sounds nasty,” he said. “How did you of the delicate girl hands manage to do that? Did the patient make it?”

  “Yeah,” said Maicee, walking over to slump into a chair. “But I'm not sure I did. I think I might have flunked this one, Benho.”

  Benho's feet clicked on the tiled floor as he came to sit on the couch opposite Maicee. “Don't you worry,” he said quietly. “You'll be fine. As long as your dummy's okay, they'll pass you.”

  Maicee managed to smile at this, but Benho's green eyes looked deadly serious.

  “No, I mean it,” said the dark man. “I heard that the dummies they provide as patients are living human clones that have been made braindead. It's the only way to let us perform a potentially dangerous operation in the right circumstances without putting someone's life at risk. And these things are expensive; think about it.”