Secrets of Silverwind

by Sanders, Richard L.

  Less beautiful was the solo occupant. A woman in lavender armor staring out the far window, hands behind her back, head bowed. She looked melancholy and introspective.

  “I wondered when you would come,” she said.

  “I’m glad to find you alone.”

  She spun around and drew her sword, igniting it. “I hope you know what you’ve done to the world,” she said. “Now it has no hope. As the enforcer Combine falls, the city will be thrown into chaos. You have no idea the forces we have kept at bay.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “There are plans in motion that you can’t imagine. This city will destroy itself, Rigil will see to that. A perfect storm is coming that you cannot stop. You can’t even imagine it. It will feed the hundreds of uprisings. The people are suffering and they will take what they want. Take the government. Take your precious king. And hang your leaders in the public square. The devastation will make Antares’ pathetic rebellion seem gentle. The city will burn to the ground. And, after it falls, the Rigilian influence will spread to Skyhaven. History will repeat. And Rigil, ever merciless Rigil, will be the last ruler of humanity. A cruel fate for what was once a great species, don’t you think?”

  “And I suppose that’s all my fault. Because I didn’t let you be the one to seize power. As far as I’m concerned, you and Rigil are no different. And your fate will be no different. I slew Antares, I can deal with Rigil.”

  “Oh, did you?” she asked. “Are you so sure? Do you remember delivering the blow?”

  He did not remember. But he knew he’d fought Antares. He must have been the victor. He’d survived. There was no way Antares could have escaped. And, even if he had, he hadn’t shown his face in five years. Was he biding his time? Impossible. She was spinning lies, trying to mess with his mind, and he wouldn’t have it.

  “Shut up, Lucida. Your words won’t help you. We both know how this has to end.”

  “Caythis, before you make me kill you, I’ll give you one final chance. Help me save the world. Join me. Be on the right side of history, for once.”

  He stepped closer, menacingly. “Some people thought we should arrest you. Bring you in kicking and screaming. But not me. You’ve hurt too many people. You don’t get to walk away.”

  “I take it that means you intend to defy me, now and forever,” her voice was sad. “Truly a pity. Very well, you leave me no choice.” She turned to look at the adjacent study. “You may enter.”

  The door opened and out marched six enforcers, all in green, all with swords drawn. She probably could have held the control room if she’d deployed them. Instead she kept them here, protecting her, anticipating this conflict. Perhaps killing Caythis was the one minor compensation she hoped to get out of this.

  Seven opponents…

  They encircled him and he shifted slowly, turning, judging each of them, looking for the weakest member. He couldn’t hope to beat them all, especially with Lucida there. But maybe, if he could buy some time, the TAC teams would arrive.

  “You’re a coward Lucida,” said Caythis. “If you need seven people to defeat one of me.”

  “Oh no,” she replied. “It isn’t cowardice. It’s intelligence. Why let pride or vanity goad me into taking an unnecessary risk?”

  She advanced a step, everyone followed suit. As the circle constricted, Caythis kept his eyes on Lucida.

  “Now will you consider my offer?” she asked.

  He thought about pretending to go along with it, just to buy some time. But he knew the building was coming down, its foundations roasting and crumbling even now, and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. “If I must surrender who I am, in order to survive, then I’m dead already.”

  “So be it.”

  Hard footsteps could be heard behind him. The enforcers encircling him broke formation and adjusted their posture, bracing against the newcomers. Caythis twisted his head to see six more enforcers enter the room. Two in red, three in blue, and one in white—he seemed to be leading the others. Their swords were drawn and they took up position, ready to attack Lucida’s forces.

  “Emon-Zed,” said Lucida. She actually sounded surprised.

  “The one and only,” a brisk male voice replied.

  “But you’re dead.”

  “Oh? My white, ghostly armor may be confusing you but I assure you, I’m quite alive. Which is more than can be said for your evil control room. None of your butchery went through today. None of your Leeches worked. My comrades and I are still alive, and slaughtering your loyal turtle-colored minions with severe prejudice. I wager these six are the last dogs you have left.”

  “No matter. You will all die today. Kill them all!”

  “I’ve waited a long time for this golden opportunity, you—” The rest of Emon’s message was lost to static as a blast of plasma flew his way, he dodged it narrowly. The multicolored enforcers scrambled for cover, even as the green ones rushed in, swords swinging. The room, despite its large size, was too tight for any controlled use of magic, even sword maneuvers were limited. That didn’t stop them from being wild, desperate, and fierce.

  Palms were ablaze with plasma, scorching the room. Gushes of water, roaring fires, and powerful winds shot back. Mixing together like a terrible storm. People fell quickly. Gruesome deaths. Caythis fought viciously, trying to get to Lucida, having to parry attacks from all sides. He scorched any he could with magic, careful not to overwhelm the entire room—amazed that his magic, despite his lack of a ring, exceeded everyone else’s.

  As more fell, and Caythis narrowly evaded death, he reached Lucida. She stood against him, defensive and ready. He imagined her face, under her helmet, the fear and wrath expressed upon it. This was her world and he’d shattered it. Even if she prevailed she could not escape. She could not rebuild it. Now that she’d lost everything, she was truly dangerous.

  He charged forward, his sword a blur of glowing plasma, hot and deadly. She countered. Their blades collided, his superior strength won out. Forcing her to compensate. They crashed together again and again, and she was slowly driven back. He thought of the silver enforcer, tried to use some of her technique. Capture her unpredictable offense while still preserving her well-practiced defense. He could not do it like her, he was too slow, but it was enough to throw Lucida off-guard. As he advanced, his attacks became increasingly furious. He refused to let up.

  She was clever, and every bit the master swordsman she’d been trained to be. She ducked his blows and thrust her blade at his chest, breaking his advance. Trying to force him onto defense. But he wouldn’t give her the advantage. He accepted risks, exposed himself where necessary, to keep attacking. She panicked and stalled her attack to block his swings, and only barely in time.

  They both struggled for the advantage, swords blinding with each collision, his visor blinked desperately to compensate for the changing intensity. And then it blanked all white and a powerful force threw him aside. He spun in the air, crashing onto the ground painfully, barely keeping his blade from burning into his own armor.

  The visor blinked clear and he could see an explosion of plasma had destroyed the table next to where he’d been fighting. It was a smoldering ruin, strange green vapors rising from its black ashes. The rest of the room was filling with black and white smoke, most of the enforcers were dead, their corpses littered everywhere. Those who lived were at each other’s throats, pushing for the kill, desperately trying to stay alive.

  The attack that had knocked him down, an air attack, had come from Emon-Zed. The plasma scorch had landed just where Caythis had been standing. Emon had saved his life. Caythis climbed to his feet and faced Lucida once more. Sprinting. She steadied her blade to match his.

  They crashed and she tumbled backwards, his strength overpowering her. Caythis stumbled, just a bit, the force of the vibration shook his arms and legs, but he recovered rapidly. Able to land another powerful blow against her before she could scramble to her feet. She blocked it, rolled aside, and got
to her feet. He sent her a third, it knocked her back down to the ground. He stabbed his sword down at her but she evaded it and snapped to her feet.

  She lunged suddenly, unexpectedly. Caythis swung his sword for a desperate block, but missed. Her sword sizzled into his armor, just the tip, she was out of range to penetrate all the way. He leapt backwards, and didn’t let her press her new advantage. But knew his armor had been compromised. Fortunately, he’d sustained no injury.

  He shook his head, trying to ignore the fact he’d almost just been killed, and attacked her again. If anything, his fear for his life, a desperation to survive, gave him new energy. He threw himself at her. His blows less wild this time, but still overwhelmingly aggressive. And she had trouble compensating for his strength.

  He pushed her against the great glass window and found an opportunity. In one powerful sweep, he made to cleave her in two. She stumbled to the side, throwing her blade in the way, but it was clumsy. His stroke narrowly missed her, but cleaved through her handguard. Her sword darkened, splitting in two, and the blade fell powerless to the ground. She tossed the handle aside, her fingers unscathed.

  “Give it up,” he said. His sword was pointed and ready for the kill. “You’re finished.”

  She raised her hand, palm facing him. A blast of water crashed into him, throwing him back several feet. His sword sizzled whatever water it touched, turning it to hot white vapor. Her control of magic was supreme and her power immense, but he knew he had more. It was coming back to him, his magic had been unmatched around the world. Only Antares had surpassed him.

  He raised his own palm, struggling against the water, and summoned all the fire in his soul. It challenged the waterstorm, overwhelming it. Boiling it into vapor as it pushed against her efforts. His inferno quickly approaching her.

  She redoubled her efforts, sending against him everything she had. The pain and fatigue of the magic weakened her, and she slouched, her knees seeming to almost buckle. But she managed to stall his attack.

  He closed his eyes, thought of Raven, thought of survival, and when he opened them he saw his fire pushing against her water once more. Breaking the stalemate.

  The pain was shaking his arm, but she was convulsing. Anger filled inside him as he recalled that Raven’s death had been because of Lucida. And Raven was never coming back. He clenched his teeth and let the hate consume him. It was dangerous, and terrifying, but the power of such hate was unmatched.

  Suddenly, in an instant, her water was gone. She was lit ablaze and the fire kept coming. In her panic, and severe pain, she threw herself through the window. The glass exploded every direction and she disappeared.

  He ceased his magic, ran to the window, and looked down.

  She was so small. A crumpled heap on the Elite Quarter’s steps. A black, scarred stain on the unforgiving ground. The very place she had left Caythis helpless after their previous encounter. Seeing her dead, empty, unable to harm anyone again, he pitied her. But the solemn moment vanished as he remembered the danger all around him. He spun to face whoever was still alive. Practically nobody.

  “Without even a proper ring,” said Emon, looking genuinely amazed. He stood, the lone survivor, in the middle of a smoke filled room that was burning itself apart. Already some of the ceiling supports were beginning to give way. In the ashes were so many corpses, their shapes barely recognizable. He felt awe, barely comprehending what had just happened.

  “How did you do it?” asked Emon.

  “We have to get out of here. Now!” Caythis sprinted for the exit, Emon at his heels.

  “How did you summon that kind of magic without a ring?”

  “I don’t know. I just can.” The ceiling began collapsing, a support beam had given way. Caythis ducked the falling debris and continued, darting down the stairs.

  “You’ll have to teach me that.”

  “I don’t think it’s the kind of thing that can be learned.”

  They reached the bottom and ran into the main lobby. It was falling apart, the remaining loadbearing walls under severe strain.

  “Too bad. Because the way I see it, you owe me two.”

  “What?” asked Caythis, more focused on escape than Emon’s rambling. The others had already evacuated, by the looks of it.

  “One for saving your life. And another for you stealing the kill from me. I wanted to be the one to end Lucida.”

  They escaped and, as they cleared the exit, a major part of the building collapsed. “Tell me we were the last ones out,” said Caythis.

  The soldiers were ushering people into the vans, carrying the wounded and abandoning the dead. Several blue, red, and white enforcers had joined them and were being evacuated. It must have been made clear, at some point, that they were on the same side. By the looks of it, over a dozen enforcers had survived.

  The black vans shimmered darkly in the moonlight, each driving off the moment it was full. Caythis and Emon filed into one, strapped in, and it took off. The fleet of government vehicles disappeared down the minor roads as sirens could be heard in the distance, approaching the scene. Out the back window, before turning the corner, Caythis saw the Elite Quarter collapse completely. The symbol of oppression and disparity was gone. He wondered if it truly would inspire the malcontents to rise up against the government. He almost wouldn’t blame them, considering how harsh their circumstances were, but it would make things a helluva lot easier for him if they didn’t.

  13

  Happiness. Joy. Excitement. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was a brightly lit dance hall, filled with people from wall to wall. Couples danced merrily while a live ensemble played the prettiest music that'd ever touched his ears. And there she was. Blond hair, brilliant eyes. And that cute smile that only she could make—the one that melted his insides. Especially tonight, because she made it just for him.

  He took her by her warm elegant hand and led her to the center of the room. They danced, staring into each other’s eyes, turning and turning as the music dripped into their ears. The pleasant flicker of candlelight gleamed off her eyes. It was joy.

  The music faded to silence and changed, but they kept dancing. Now it was a melancholy tune, a ballad, the legend of a boy who’d given up everything to save his town. And afterwards, people far and wide came to pay him tribute.

  But he was the hero tonight, not the boy from the legend, and his reward was far greater than any given to the boy. Because now he had her in his arms, and it was the greatest feeling he had ever imagined.

  But the hall darkened and faded until it vanished entirely, shifting away.

  He felt sick.

  ***

  Caythis awoke for the hundredth time. He fumbled in the darkness for the bucket, finding it just as nasty vomit shot up his throat and out. Leaving a warm, vulgar taste behind, and a smell he could have done without. He looked up, slightly disoriented.

  He was in a sterile room. He remembered being taken here after the battle. The sickness had come over him suddenly, and still tortured him.

  He managed to stand up and wander over to the sink. He twisted the knob all the way and let the water spray out full blast. He stared down and watched it fill, soaking his hands in the cold liquid and cupping them. He brought the crystal drink to his lips several times, slurping it up, trying to hydrate. The taste was bitter but he drank anyway.

  He rubbed his wet hands through his hair and tried to relax. His body was quivering ever so slightly and a throbbing pain pounded his head. Like a tiny drum being beaten over and over. He shivered, feeling both too warm and too cold, and then stumbled his way back to the cot where he collapsed. Too nauseous to sleep but too tired to stay awake.

  He thought of the Elite Quarter burning. All the blood that had gone into making that happen. Good people. Bad people. Did it matter, ultimately, which side they’d been on? All of the soldiers, all the enforcers, and Lucida, thrust into the great unknown. Unable to care anymore. Caythis couldn’t help but ask himself… did anything an
yone did really matter? In the end.

  He rolled over and slept. Dreamed about death. Feared it and wanted it at the same time. He wondered, if he were to never wake again, would it matter?

  He did wake again. But felt no better. He climbed to his feet delicately and drank to his heart’s content. The unfiltered water tasted horrible, but he didn’t stop. He doubted he’d ever been so thirsty.

  Somehow he managed to shower, dress himself, and prepare for the day. But he didn’t feel like going anywhere. It was hard to want to do anything.

  He heard a knock on the door. “Come in.”

  Kira entered. “Good morning, Caythis," she said, she carried some prescription in an orange bottle. "Are you all right?” She jogged over and helped him catch himself as his sense of balance weakened. With her help he narrowly avoided collapsing to the ground.

  “What’s wrong with me?” he allowed her to help him to the couch, but felt embarrassed doing so. He felt the world spin all around him as he sat.

  “You don’t look good at all,” she said, her voice concerned.

  "Am I really that ugly?"

  She laughed, but her serious tone returned. "I mean you look ill. You have acute radiation sickness and it shows."

  “I'm fine,” he said.

  “No, you’re not. In the fight your armor was damaged and allowed a slight radiation leak.”

  “Did we save Gavin at least?”

  She smiled. “Yes. Thanks to you and all the other brave men and women, my brother is safe.”

  He nodded. “So how bad is it, Princess?”

  “It isn’t severe. Dr. Erikson says you’ll recover just fine. But you have to take this.” She handed him the bottle. “Follow the instructions exactly.”

  “Where is Dr. Erikson anyway, shouldn’t he be here?”

  “He’s busy overseeing the wounded. I volunteered to see to you myself,” she smiled and that made him feel a little better. “The question is, how much has it affected you?”