Secrets of Silverwind

by Sanders, Richard L.

  Below one such magical orb, he discovered a marble surface cradling a silver basin and a mirror. He felt compelled to retrieve the mirror but it wouldn’t budge. He looked into it deeply but saw nothing but his own shadow. A terrible feeling washed over him and he knew what he had to do. He peered into the basin. As if witnessing his own death.

  ***

  A deep rumble jerked Caythis from his sleep.

  He lurched into a sitting position and rubbed his hazy eyes. Nothing seemed out of place…

  Another deep rumble shook the room, this one much closer. Airhorns began shrieking throughout the rest of the complex—alarms. He bolted upright and ran to the door, cracking it open to catch of glimpse of the chaos.

  The main hall was a scatter of people yelling. Someone screamed louder than the rest. “Get them out now!” A handful of Silverwind men-at-arms held a firing position, armed with assault weapons.

  An explosion rocked the room, a large piece of steel, probably from the basement exit, hurled through the air and crashed into one of the soldiers. He died instantly. The others scrambled for better cover and began shooting at whatever it was that had just breached the door. Caythis didn’t have to see it to know what it was. He slammed the door and bolted it. Enforcers.

  He strapped on his enforcer armor as fast as he could. Trying to ignore the gunfire, screaming, and other terrible noises. He focused solely on his objective. Enter the battle, control the situation, protect the District’s escape. How they’d been compromised was something to worry about later, though he was sure they’d been given away by the silver enforcer.

  At last he pulled the helmet over his head and sealed it tight, the visor jumped to infrared. He grabbed his sword, activated it, and made for the door. Rather than take the time to unbolt it, he slashed it aside very easily with the plasma sword and charged into the fray.

  The main room was a smoking ruin. Everything was bright green. The furniture was ablaze and smoke choked the atmosphere. He saw a spent smoke capsule at his feet.

  The gunfire dissipated and reappeared again several meters down the largest corridor. Towards Kira’s and Gavin’s rooms. They wanted to kill or abduct the Paribus heirs.

  He manually switched his visor to visible light, preferring to deal with dark smoke than bright smoke, and sped toward the battle. An enforcer in green armor intercepted him. A blast of plasma poured from his hand but missed Caythis. He raised his own magic hand and unleashed a torrent of fire. He either melted the enforcer, or the enforcer escaped, it was impossible to tell in the smoke. So he moved on.

  The south room was slightly clearer because the vents were blowing air, dissipating some of the smoke. The furniture still burned, though, and everything was smashed. He didn’t see anyone inside.

  He was thrown face-first and crashed awkwardly to the floor, barely avoiding his own sword. He rolled and leapt back to his feet but another gust of wind hit him and spun him back down to the ground. From the corner of his eye he saw white armor.

  “Damned air enforcer,” he rolled away and got to his feet again. A splash of plasma sizzled the spot where he’d been. And now, as the smoke thinned a little, he could see two adversaries. Both enforcers. One in white and one in green. Swords drawn.

  He raised his own magic hand and unleashed all of his anger, hate, passion, desperation, and fear. An enormous firestorm of scorching magic filled the space between them and, like a tidal wave, took hold of the nearest enforcer. The green enforcer managed to escape, partially singed, but the white enforcer was too slow. The fire consumed him instantly. One moment he was there, the next he was an inferno of liquid plastic and goo splashing all directions.

  Caythis felt a tortuous amount of pain releasing that kind of magic, especially without the help of a ring—it shouldn’t have even been possible—but he didn’t worry about that now. Had to compartmentalize. Had to survive.

  Instincts made him leap aside as a sword sizzled past him. He quickly got his bearings and pitched his own sword against the green enforcer who’d escaped his wrath.

  The sword strokes were powerful, his enemy was far stronger, and happy to take advantage of Caythis’ sudden fatigue and pain. But the desperation to survive, mixed with the adrenaline of seeing his own death in each oncoming blow, forced him to concentrate. In that state, he found he had a tremendous threshold for pain and was able to hold his own easily. Locked in combat of sweeping strokes, deadly jabs, and desperate parries.

  He gained the advantage after only a few seconds. The limited visibility caused some confusion but his instincts served him well. Unfortunately, before he could deliver the deathblow, another enforcer attacked. Throwing off Caythis and forcing him onto the defensive.

  Caythis adapted to fighting two opponents. Made sure to get them onto one side. He remembered patterns and defense ideas he’d been taught, should this situation occur, and even though it felt awkward and was considerably more difficult, he was able to hold his own. Until a third appeared.

  Now his enemies were on all sides. He couldn’t force them all together. Moving quickly, dodging, and throwing desperate blocks was all he could do to avoid the sizzling blades they threw his way, each strike closer than the last.

  He forced himself into the best defensive posture he knew, always trying to out-maneuver them, use the smoke to his advantage, and find an opportunity to blast fire at them. They predicted his use of magic, avoided it, and slowly corralled him to the back corner of the room.

  He raised his palm to use magic once more, desperately, willing to drown the entire room in fire if he had to. But the flash of a sword sweeping through the air sent him jumping aside. He returned his left hand to his sword, needing the extra strength, and scoured his mind for some way to even the odds.

  “It’s over,” a voice crackled over his speaker. “And to think she wanted you. Pathetic.”

  They had pushed him nearly all the way to the wall now and his options were drying up. It was only a matter of time before they broke through his circular defense pattern, and that would be the end. He steadied his footing, pushing his weight in their direction, and readied for one massive sweeping blow aimed well below their swords. Just as he prepared to strike, the ghost of a silver enforcer’s helmet appeared behind his enemies. There she was. As if to gloat. As if she wanted him to know, before he died, that she’d been behind it all.

  “You!” he said.

  One of his enemies turned and blocked what seemed like an attack from the silver enforcer. This confused the three green enforcers momentarily and Caythis too, but he chose not to make sense of it. Instead he acted, lashing out at them while they were least prepared. He didn’t know if this meant the silver enforcer and he were on the same side, but that didn’t matter yet.

  The green enforcers were thrown into disarray. Due to his new aggression, and the appearance of the silver enforcer—who continued attacking them—their defense broke and they started fighting as individuals, not as a unit.

  “Why’d you give me away?” asked a surprisingly pleasant voice over Caythis’ helmet speaker. She was quickly backing one of the green enforcers into the wall. He was stronger than she was, but her fighting style was unpredictable and her superior speed left no openings. He was fighting for his life, and losing rapidly.

  Caythis didn’t answer her question, too focused on his own opponents. He killed one, as the man tried to route Caythis gutted him in the back, allowing him to focus on the last. He was the best of the three green enforcers, but still below Caythis’ skill.

  The clashing of swords and plasma was severe, hard blows that rocked together in explosions of sparks. Caythis threw himself into every swing, filled with so much anger. Hating Lucida. Hating the attack she launched. Hating that she’d probably captured or killed Kira. And hating himself for letting it happen. His opponent was no match for his wrath and before long Caythis found the opportunity he was searching for. He thrust his sword through his enemy and carved sideways. The green enforcer colla
psed, a disgusting heap of molten plastic, destroyed human tissue, and blood.

  Caythis stood over him, catching his breath.

  “We have to hurry.”

  He looked up to see the silver enforcer standing there. She’d already vanquished her opponent.

  “Who are you?”

  “If you don’t remember, then it would be pointless to tell you my name. Now hurry, there may still be time!”

  She ran back into the smoke filled ruins of the main concourse. He followed her, not sure what to think.

  He stepped over bodies and debris, sometimes on top of them, disgusted by the slaughter. They ran down the long hall, checking each of the rooms as they went, but finding nobody alive. The barracks, the cafeteria, everything was deserted.

  They left the complex through an exploded hole. He followed the silver enforcer through a series of tunnels. “That way,” she said.

  He heard footsteps ahead, they were catching up to someone. They scrambled up a ladder and through a hatch. Splashing through the waterworks, they eventually encountered a fork.

  “I’m not sure which way they went. But we have to catch them. If they’ve taken Gavin or Kira…”

  “I understand,” said Caythis. He wanted to stay with the silver enforcer, to find out who she was. To ask her about their past. But it wasn’t as important as saving Kira and Gavin, if he could. “I’ll take right,” he said. She took left.

  Caythis hurried down a twisted, wet, bad-smelling path for several minutes. Eventually he ran into another fork and chose a direction at random, which led to a dead end. He cursed, splashed some of the sewage away with his hand and climbed up the side.

  He took his time coming back, pausing to rest. Carefully thinking about his path, and making a few wrong turns. He lost a lot of time, cursing whenever he got lost, but eventually found his way back to the hatch leading below. He unsealed it and dropped to the ground, landing evenly on bent knees. He deactivated his sword and strapped it to his back.

  The route back to the Hiding Place was tiring, but he made it as quickly as he could. The carnage was more spectacular now that the smoke had mostly cleared. The sights, the corpses, all of it worse. It was still now, but not peaceful. It made him think of Andar, at what he must have seen on that fateful night. So much unnecessary violence and destruction…

  His hope in returning to the Hiding Place had been that he’d find someone from the District, someone who’d gone back looking for survivors and could direct him to their fallback shelter. Their reserve Hiding Place, if they had one. He refused to believe they’d all been killed.

  He’d guessed right. Captain Grayson and a team of specialists were combing through the debris when he arrived. They trained weapons on him but lowered them again as he approached. His bronze armor was doubtlessly scuffed and covered with soot and dirt, but still recognizable.

  “Glad to see you made it out, Captain Ceteris,” Captain Grayson said over the radio.

  “You too. What’s our situation?”

  “Still too early to tell. We’re searching for survivors and recovering equipment right now. Those who escaped have been moved to a secure place.”

  “Where can I find them?”

  “Lt. Greer will take you,” she ordered one of her subordinates to see to Caythis. He saluted and Caythis returned the salute. Part of him wanted to stay, to assist Captain Grayson with her rescue efforts—although he doubted anyone was left to be rescued—and he also wanted to search the Hideout for any information they hadn’t been forthcoming with, but none of that was half as important as making sure Kira and the others were all right. So he followed Lt. Greer without objection.

  The Lt. took him through a sealed door, it had been hidden inside the conference room. It led two ways. On the one side was another door, a thick steel security door with an electric lock. It had no window so Caythis couldn’t see what was behind it. The other way was a path into a tiny room of stone walls. They went that way.

  The tiny room seemed purposefully empty, with nothing but black flowers sitting atop a casket encased in cement. There was a marker that read something but the inscription was tiny. And where there should have been a name there was just a blank slate. Caythis stepped closer.

  “Sir,” the Lt. said. “We have to keep going.”

  “Who is buried here, soldier?” asked Caythis.

  “I don’t know, it’s classified. Now come along, please.” He’d slid aside another secret door which led to a very narrow set of cement stairs. Reluctantly Caythis followed him, shelving his curiosity.

  The passage led into what appeared to be a musty old food-storage room. Large wooden barrels sat sideways, and cases and cases of bottles were everywhere. He made his way through the clutter, careful not to disturb any of it.

  They reached a steel door, which was also ajar, and met up with a few men-at-arms standing guard, who recognized them on approach. They traversed another set of passageways, steel doors, and groups of soldiers, but eventually the path opened up into a large well-furnished reception hall. It was elegant but crowded with distressed looking people.

  A few medical professionals were working their way through the huddled groups. Treating everything from deep cuts and wounds to shock and mental illness. Other staffers were bringing blankets, food, and water to everyone. Some of the affected were children but most were adults. In the crowd Caythis spotted a familiar face.

  Jaden, who looked bruised, was yelling something. Next to him stood Dr. Erikson and Dr. Ferguson.

  Caythis approached.

  “Caythis!” said Dr. Erikson. “You’re all right!”

  “More or less,” Caythis pulled his helmet off and shook his head. “But I can’t say the same for a lot of the people down there.”

  “Yes, a terrible tragedy,” Dr. Erikson looked down soberly.

  “How many people are dead, Dr. Erikson?” asked Caythis. He was bitter. More could have been done to prevent this, or see it coming, but Dr. Erikson had been complacent.

  “At least ten civilians, fifteen men-at-arms, and two soldiers from special forces. Maybe more. But we got some of them too.”

  Caythis remembered his battle with the enforcers below. “I know,” he said, certain the men-at-arms hadn’t taken down any of the enforcers. “Why weren’t the TAC teams there?” Elite soldiers designed to fight enforcers would have been extremely useful.

  “I did call for them,” said Jaden. “They were on their way when a water main exploded flooding the waterworks, no doubt it wasn't an accident. Another group’s vehicle was disabled. But none of that matters now. What matters,” he said, pretending to be calm, “is Kira. Have you seen her?”

  “No,” said Caythis.

  “We’ve got to go back and find her!” said Jaden. “They must have taken her! They killed my father and now they take her! I’ll bury them all!”

  “I’ll help you,” said Caythis. “But let’s think this through, are we sure she was taken? What about the prince?”

  Kira entered. Her eyes glowed fiercely, her clothes were dirty, and she carried a handgun. Her fingers clung to it a bit too tightly and, upon seeing them, she dropped it and looked relieved. “Caythis! Jaden!” They ran to her.

  “You’re all right!” Jaden threw his arms around her. She embraced him back. Caythis kept his distance.

  After a few seconds, she disentangled herself from Jaden. “They took Gavin!” she said. Her voice was both a crash of anger and a whisper of despair. “We have to get him back.”

  “We’ll get him back,” said Jaden. He squeezed her hand. “I promise you, we’ll get him back.”

  11

  The king’s court was a wide chamber that took the shape of a crescent moon. The walls were elegant white stone and there were several ornate chairs seated around a beautiful table. In the center was a traditional golden throne. But what caught Caythis’ eye most was the ceiling, it was entirely composed of clear glass, and a glimmer of auburn dawn pierced the blanket of thick w
hite clouds above.

  This emergency session called in a dozen or more political leaders. They chatted noisily together in their chairs, anxious and alert. Already debating and disagreeing.

  Caythis and Jaden followed the District's leaders, Drs. Erikson and Ferguson, who followed Kira. At each of their sides was a small escort of soldiers, a blend of Citadel camouflage with the blue-and-silver uniforms of the men-at-arms. They reached the center of the room and stood attentively, waiting to be addressed. Jaden wore a dress uniform and Caythis donned his enforcer armor, less the helmet.

  A whistle blew and the governors rose from their chairs, backs stiff, as King Talonis entered. He looked mid-sixties with white hair and a slightly wrinkled face. He wore a military uniform and a sash that identified his house of nobility. He was flanked by three men-at-arms in black uniforms, which followed him to his throne. He sat in it, this was a cue to the others that they could be at ease. Immediately afterwards, the king stood up and moved to a more comfortable, humble chair at the table. Caythis understood the gesture was ceremonial. The throne was beautiful but ultimately an uncomfortable, pompous relic that few kings could enjoy sitting on.

  “Welcome, Princess,” King Talonis said from his new position.

  Kira bowed. “My lord, we are here in your palace seeking sanctuary. Three hours ago we were attacked. The home you gave us was destroyed.”

  “I was briefed about the attack on the Hiding Place,” said King Talonis, his baritone voice betrayed a measure of regret. “Are you certain of the party responsible for this egregious deed?”

  “Yes. It is surely the enforcer Combine,” said Kira.

  The room was filled with nervous chatter and denials. Clearly these government officials, whose city teetered on the edge of collapse, were loath to challenge the enforcers.

  “That is a powerful accusation, are you absolutely certain you are not mistaken?”