Secrets of Silverwind

by Sanders, Richard L.

  “Good work.” He was glad their attack wasn’t completely in retreat. “We’re having a little more difficulty over here.” He fired another blast of magic and ducked back into cover. “And Captain Grayson’s lost her sniping position.”

  “Do you want us to withdraw? We can support you,” there was genuine concern in her voice. He appreciated it but knew if she let go of her position to help him, they’d all be forced into a full retreat.

  “No, we’ll come to you.”

  Mortar shells whistled loudly as they arced above and plunged down, blasting apart buildings and roads. Antares and his men scrambled from their cover and sprinted into the open, taking heavy fire, as they sought safer ground. Their position completely overrun.

  At least two of his enforcers were killed by the heavy fire.

  “Who’s still with us?” asked Antares. “All teams report.”

  Each team reported except for Survey One—which had been presumably wiped out. Remaining count was nine enforcers and about thirty other personnel. The TAC teams were nearly at full strength but all other groups had taken significant losses. Now that they'd let go of their best cover, things would get a lot bloodier and everyone knew it.

  “Do we fall back? Do we abort?” people were asking. A nearby brick building was destroyed, throwing chunks of cement and other debris everywhere.

  “They’ve taken Main Street,” someone else said.

  Antares was at a loss. He hadn’t come this far to give up now. They’d known this would happen, that they’d face overwhelming numbers and were likely die. But now that the grim reality was plainly before them, it was much harder to swallow. Seeing the exploded city and the corpses in the road, the splinters of armor, the bits and pieces of their friends sprayed over the walls and buildings... it was extremely hard to stay the course. And Antares couldn't help but wonder, had they done the right thing? Would their sacrifice mean anything when they were dead?

  “Do we abort, sir?” asked Captain Grayson.

  “No,” said Antares. It was an impulse, a feral instinct, they had to keep fighting. If they didn't draw the line here, they'd never get a second chance. They were all in.

  They held off another wave of soldiers, taking a few more losses. They checked their limited munitions—which were less than expected, and braced themselves for the next wave. To their surprise, it didn’t seem to be coming.

  “What’s happening?” asked Kira.

  The dust and smoke made it difficult to discern what the enemy was doing. Three minutes passed and everyone looked at each other, uncertain what to do. Far ahead they heard the rumble of explosions and the cracking of gunshots. The noise was coming from positions they'd already abandoned.

  Antares increased the volume of his helmet, and sure enough, he heard fighting. And, through the dust and smoke, he could barely make out faint muzzle flashes.

  “Everyone move!” he ordered, charging ahead.

  “Push their position?” asked Captain Grayson. She complied but sounded confused. No doubt a frontal assault seemed like the worst course of action possible.

  “Push now!”

  They followed him, retaking the streets they’d lost—meeting almost no resistance. Before long they’d retaken all their old ground and found the remains of Rigil’s main army in splinters. His troops were locked in irregular combat with several urban guerillas in plainclothes—they seemed to be striking from all angles with all kinds of weapons.

  “GENESIS!” someone said ecstatically.

  “Open fire!” Antares yelled and they engaged Rigil’s army.

  Rigil's forces broke rank and split for cover, floundering and disorganized. Their officers didn't know what to make of the mess coming at them from all sides.

  “What’s your situation?” asked Emon over the radio.

  “We’re pushing back,” said Antares. “We’ve been joined by GENESIS.”

  “Do you need further assistance?”

  “Negative, this part of Rigil’s army is crumbling. You head north and begin sweeping the districts. Find that skytechnology and destroy it. We’ll keep pushing against Rigil’s military.”

  “Understood.”

  The street and surrounding buildings were cut into dust by the exchange of magic that lit up the night. Bullets crossed and explosions carved through the rubble. It was blinding and deafening, and before long it was over. The last traces of Rigil’s detachment here threw down their weapons and surrendered. GENESIS collected the arms and distributed them to sympathizers. Some of the soldiers even defected.

  Their army moved east, following the retreat of Rigil’s loyalists. Knowing that Rigil’s army would make another stand in the next district over. Antares expected to break them there too. But, even if Rigil’s forces held Antares’ group—and GENESIS—at bay forever, Emon’s team would still be searching for the skytechnology. And they had more than enough explosives to deal with it when they found it.

  Emon’s voice came over the radio again. “If we hurry, we can take the city center and seize the capitol before they lock it down. There seems to be a riot in progress over there. I think the security forces will be overrun if we help.”

  “We can’t risk it,” another voice came over the radio. It was Baene, the enforcer overseer of New Andar—he was with Emon’s team. “We need to find the skytechnology silos and take them out. There are three more districts to search. Dealing with Rigil is a lesser priority.”

  “I’m going to the capitol,” said Emon. “Baene, you take charge of the team and keep looking for those silos. I’m going after Rigil.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” said Antares. Kira had taken command of the main force and seemed to have better success organizing them than Antares had. They were making slow but steady progress against Rigil’s army and Antares reasoned that Kira could command their attack better than he could. So he wasn’t needed here. And if that meant Kira wasn’t with him when he faced Rigil, all the better.

  He had no doubt that she could help him. And knew she was both skilled and powerful. But he couldn’t shake away the image of Rigil beheading Orion. He imagined it was Kira’s head in the helmet as it rolled along the floor and he shuddered. Rigil was truly deadly, and Antares would rather die a million deaths than lose Kira. Losing her would be unbearable. And his deepest intuition told him that if Kira came to fight Rigil, she wouldn’t be coming back. Maybe no one would. Nobody understood Rigil like he did…

  Motivated by these thoughts, Antares said nothing to Kira and slipped away. He would beat Rigil with overwhelming magic, letting no one stand in his way, bringing along no liabilities to protect. He would drown Rigil’s entire existence in flames, like he’d done to Andar, and offer no weaknesses for Rigil to take advantage of.

  He headed for the center of the city. Taking in everything. It was a scene of such severe violence it would scar anyone’s memory who looked upon it. It reminded him of the uprising at Andar..

  “What have we done, Rigil? What have we done to this world?” he whispered, feeling an icy, deathly chill snake through his body. He thought of the white-haired boy who’d once been his friend. Thought of how they’d both changed the world. Nearly destroying it. Most of it would never heal. Could never be the same again. It filled him with wrath, directed inward and outward, but he controlled it. Choosing instead to focus on the present. To end what he’d started. Once and for all. That meant confronting Rigil. Until he did, it would never be over.

  As he neared the city center, he heard a lot of noise. Plenty of shouting, a few gunshots, but it didn’t sound like a battle. He approached the capitol and saw dozens of civilians wielding all kinds of makeshift weapons. A few had firearms. They’d smashed windows, looted everything, and were burning the capitol to the ground.

  Antares looked at the building. It had been majestic, once, and even as it glowed with fire, and was surrounded by a haze of smoke, it was still strangely beautiful. Even in the throes of death, as parts of it began collapsing, it
carried a certain dignity. This was the spot where the Founders had first met and formed the Codes of Coalition. This was the original city. It took him back for a moment thinking about it.

  “Emon, I’m at the capitol—it appears to be burning down. Where are you?”

  “I’m here too. Those idiots. Don’t they realize they’re destroying their own heritage?”

  “It’s probably become a symbol of Rigil’s oppression. But what matters now is Rigil himself. Where is he? Did you seem him flee the capitol?”

  “No he didn’t come out. I guess the captain wanted to go down with the ship.”

  “That doesn’t sound right,” said Antares. He knew Rigil. Rigil would never let himself die in any place for any cause. He’d escape if he couldn’t win. And a crowd of civilians wielding rocks and sticks would never be able to kill him.

  Antares’ eyes looked toward the northern gate. It led to the elite district. Most of the mansions and estates seemed abandoned. Which made sense, Rigil had never liked seeing people live in excessive luxury.

  In the distance, looming over them all, was the royal palace. An ornate edifice of polished stone and shimmering glass. It was the most secluded building, and the perfect symbol of Rigil’s elitism and vanity; everything about it made him think of Rigil. Antares’ eyes locked to it like a crosshair. Rigil was there.

  “I know where Rigil is,” said Antares. Then, to himself, I’m coming Rigil. Sure as the wrath of god, I’m coming.

  “Where is he?” asked Emon as he scrambled down the steps of the capitol trying to catch up to Antares.

  “He’s in there,” Antares pointed to the distant palace.

  “Good thinking,” said Emon, having caught up.

  Antares questioned the wisdom of bringing Emon along. He seemed as likely to die facing Rigil as Kira. Which gave Antares second thoughts. Made him think he should face Rigil alone. He’d been the one, after all, to enable Rigil. He should be the one to destroy him. No one else need take the gamble or make the sacrifice.

  “I need to do this,” said Antares.

  “So do I. I need to bag me a dead Rigil.”

  “You don’t understand. I should go alone.”

  “What? Give me one good reason why we’re better off if you go alone.”

  “Because this isn’t going to be easy. If you go, you’ll probably die.”

  “Sounds like an argument for why you need me, not why you don’t.”

  “What about all that talk of survival being the most basic instinct, and the smartest thing is to look out for your own neck?” Antares thought of a conversation he’d once had with Emon.

  “Oh that stuff,” said Emon. “It’s all true. Saving your own ass is still the smart thing. But you’re forgetting something. I’m Emon, I don’t always do the smart thing.”

  “I see,” said Antares. “In that case, good to have you. Just make sure you understand the risks.”

  “I’m not afraid. I’m with Antares.” He chuckled darkly and gave Antares a slap on the back. “Don’t forget, Antares won last time.”

  “So did Rigil.”

  27

  Antares and Emon climbed the polished stone staircase to the palace doors. They entered, having to carve their way in, and met no resistance. There were no lights on and the hall was empty. It felt almost haunted.

  “Like nobody’s home,” said Emon.

  They went deeper inside, towards the ballroom. What had once been a polished, glassy floor was scuffed and damaged. The delicate fixtures everywhere were filthy, missing, or smashed. Thick power cables traced along the walls and snaked their ways down the blackened corridors.

  Antares adjusted his visor and everything illuminated. He held out his sword, still activated, and pressed forward. Emon followed, keeping watch behind them.

  “We’ve found the silos,” Baene’s voice came over the helmet speaker. “They’re about fifty feet tall. There’s at least twenty of them. We’ll have to bomb them one at a time.”

  “Good work,” said Antares. “Are they well-guarded?”

  “There are plenty of soldiers and vehicles moving around down there, but that’s not the bad news.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “They’re all loaded and ready to fire. Who knows where these rockets are pointed.”

  Antares winced. “Can you sabotage them, or take control before they can execute a launch?”

  “Even if we start capturing them, that doesn’t mean we can stop them from going off. They’re wired.”

  “Wired?”

  “Yeah, wired. They’re waiting for some kind of radio signal to launch. Someone somewhere has a controller and my guess is Rigil’s finger is on the button.”

  “If that’s so, it won’t be a problem for long,” said Antares as he approached the heavy door leading to the ballroom. “I’m in the palace now, and I will deal with Rigil.”

  “Good luck.”

  He pulled the door open and entered. It looked nothing like a ballroom anymore. Instead of bright colors, chandeliers, open spaces, and elaborate decorations, it was riddled with blinking lights and buzzing machinery. Several control panels were set up along the walls, with cables and tools spread all over the place. The wooden dance floor had been ripped out and replaced by much less flammable materials, mostly ceramic tiles and cement. By far the biggest change was the addition of steel catwalks at the top of the vaulted room. From their perches, more lights blinked and computers hummed. The ballroom had been converted into some kind of makeshift command center.

  Antares stepped to the center. There were several ladders leading up the catwalks and, because of Rigil’s many “improvements,” it was difficult to see the entirety of the room.

  “Ever since Andar, I always knew this day would come," said a smooth, baritone voice. “Even when they told me you were dead, I believed you were alive. And knew someday, you’d want your revenge.”

  Rigil stepped out from around one of the pillars holding up the ceiling. He wore crisp white armor and had his helmet in one hand and sword in the other. His long, white-blond hair flowed down the sides of his narrow face and his eyes were deeply set—like dark shadows.

  “I’m not here for revenge,” said Antares, raising his left palm, ready to summon all his magic.

  “I’m sorry I had to betray you, Antares,” said Rigil. “But, were our roles reversed, you would have done the same.”

  He wanted to strike Rigil now, kill him on the spot. Rid the world of him. But he thought of Kira and knew that, if she could believe in Antares—despite all of his sins—then perhaps Antares should believe in Rigil. At least, give him the chance to change. The same chance he’d been given.

  “It’s over, Rigil. Drop your sword.” He doubted Rigil would go quietly, and part of him hoped he didn’t. But he felt too much respect for Kira not to try the more peaceful solution.

  “And now you stand here. In Caythis’ own armor. What delicious irony.”

  “I’m only giving you one chance,” said Antares. “Now drop your sword or I’ll unleash hell upon you like you can’t imagine.”

  A thin smile spread across Rigil’s face. “Whenever I dreamed about this day, and I often have, those dreams didn’t include a third person,” he looked at Emon then back to Antares. “Who is he?”

  “I’m Emon-Zed. The man who will kill you and feed your body parts to dogs.”

  Rigil raised an eyebrow. “Bold words from one who isn’t even worthy to be here.”

  “I’m going to enjoy this!” said Emon with menace. “I’m going to take you apart piece by piece. Make you feel some of the horror you inflicted upon the world.”

  “You sound so angry, yet the man who’s truly responsible for that horror is standing next to you, not in front of you.”

  Antares took a single step forward. “I won’t deny it, Rigil. But that doesn’t mean I have to accept it. I can reject what I used to be with all my heart. Today I aspire. Today I choose to be more. It’s the present th
at matters now, not the past.”

  “Beautiful speech. I hope you get the chance to share it with the widows and orphans of Andar. I’m sure they’ll find it very comforting.”

  Antares didn’t flinch. “If you want to change, Rigil, you can. If you want to become someone better, something more, I will help you.” He thought of Kira. How she’d had such a powerful healing effect on him. “Otherwise, I promise you, I will kill you today.”

  Rigil looked more amused than intimidated. “The great Antares, the god among men, the slaughterer, here now. Standing before me. Dripping with piety. It’s unbelievable. Have you truly forgotten who we are, my former friend? What we did? There’s no going back for us. We’re rotten as hell. Might as well make the best of it.”

  “I don’t accept that. I don’t believe it’s too late for us or anyone.”

  “Then you are a fool. They’re using you, don’t you see? They don’t believe in you. They see you as a weapon. A tool. Nothing more. Something to be used and discarded. Because they know the truth. People like us, we can’t just go back. We’ve passed the point of no return. Both of us have.”

  The words stung, and a prickle of doubt stabbed into his heart like a needle. Was he fooling himself? Could he ever find a place in the world he’d so wounded?

  He saw Kira’s face in his mind and decided to push back against the dark thoughts. Reject the negativity. No matter what the outcome was, what the world chose to do with him, he had the chance to give back what he could. To make a positive difference, no matter how slight. “I chose to be here,” he said, reminding himself. “I chose to come of my own free will.”

  “You’ve chosen to ignore all the blood on your hands? All the screams of people burning to death? The lives that were cut short? The lives that will never be? The crumbling ruins of a great city—oh and how beautiful a sight it was. The masters falling one by one? And, most of all, can you truly ignore Merak? How you killed him right in front of Ariana’s eyes? That may be the crown jewel of your dark legacy. You’re damned a thousand times over. You can’t come back."