by David Bishop
"Don't worry. Mai and I can handle this," he told the Crest.
Dante jumped nimbly over the thrust of the bayonets, but landed awkwardly on top of the soldiers. "Fuoco!" he cried out, before plunging to the corridor floor in a tangle of Imperial arms and legs.
You were saying?
"Mai! A little help here!" Dante shouted, elbowing one of the soldiers in the face while kneeling on the crotch of another.
The Himalayan woman came flying over the pile of corpses, her leading leg smashing into the chest of an onrushing soldier. He tumbled backwards, knocking over several of his colleagues. Mai landed neatly on the floor, using her left blade to decapitate an Imperial before they could stab Dante. Her right sword plunged into another soldier on the floor, severing his spinal column in one devastating movement.
Mai helped Dante back to his feet while delivering a swift kick to the head of the nearest trooper. "We're getting bogged down here," she said. "We need to fall back, before they outflank us."
Dante flashed his blade through the air, disabling another four Imperials with a single movement. He could see soldiers running past the end of the corridor, looking for another way up into the heart of the citadel. "You're right," he conceded. "Head for the throne room. I'll see you there."
Mai nodded and flung herself over the pile of corpses in a compact somersault. Dante dodged a stabbing bayonet that was aimed at his head, then drove the point of his right sword through the hand of his attacker. "You should be more careful," Dante said, cheerfully twisting his blade. "You could have somebody's eye out with that."
The soldier spat blood at him. "You'll die here, Romanov scum!"
"The name's Dante - Nikolai Dante. Remember that!" Dante ripped his sword out of the soldier's hand, slicing off four fingers in the process. He smiled at the remaining Imperials. "Sorry to loathe you and leave you, but I'm required elsewhere." Dante dove over the corpse pile and rolled into a somersault as he hit the floor on the other side and came up running.
Mai was racing up a stone staircase to the citadel's top level when she heard a voice sneering at her from above. "Quite the little hellion, aren't you? The Imperial Black has a fearsome reputation, but such strength is borne of numbers, not skill. How would you cope with an adversary worthy of your talents?"
She slowed her advance, creeping to the top of the steps, tensed for the inevitable attack. "I've killed more men than I can remember," Mai hissed. "Another one will make little difference to me."
"Brave words, but such bravado is wasted on me."
Mai searched the landing around the top of the staircase. It was a wide corridor, with half a dozen doors leading away, all of them ajar. The source of the taunts was not obvious, hidden amidst echoes and stone walls. She dropped into a crouch, a short-bladed sword in each hand, ready for action. "If you're so invincible, stop hiding in the shadows and show yourself."
"Very well." The mighty figure of the Enforcer emerged from the nearest doorway, his black uniform glistening wet and crimson, blood splashes staining the blue plates of his exo-skeleton. His face remained hidden behind the blankness of his mask, Mai seeing only her own reflection on its burnished surface. "How much do you want to die?"
"Yours will be the death here," she said evenly.
The Enforcer folded his arms. "I ask because there is no need for me to kill you. Surrender or run, either will keep you safe. Engage me in combat and there can be only one outcome. In this exo-skeleton I am invulnerable, whereas all you have to defend yourself are two puny blades and those clothes."
"Before my brother was killed on the orders on your master, I was an assassin for the Tong of the Red Hand," Mai snarled. "I know how than a hundred ways to kill and I will need only one to finish you."
"Then we fight to the death, warrior against warrior. So be it." The Enforcer bowed gracefully to her, his shoulders higher than the top of her head. "Begin."
Dante was fighting a running battle through the citadel's lower levels. Every time he reached a staircase, half a dozen Imperials had already occupied the way up. He sliced them apart, his superior agility and speed enabling him to escape each skirmish unhurt. But another half dozen would be waiting beyond the first, forcing him into a tactical retreat. Sheer weight of numbers was driving Dante sideways, stymieing his progress.
"Crest, I need to find another way to the top level," he whispered, pausing to catch his breath behind a stone pillar. "I don't suppose they're got an elevator in this place by any chance?"
Dante, this is an ancient stone citadel dating back hundreds, if not thousands, of years, built on the side of a mountain in one of the world's most remote regions.
"You're telling me no, aren't you?"
Your knack of stating the obvious does you credit - even if little else does.
"Any other easier methods of reaching the throne room?"
None, unless you plan on climbing the citadel's exterior.
"Thanks for the help," Dante sighed. He ran along a stone corridor and found one last set of steps leading upwards. Curiously, there were no Imperials blocking his path. "Call me old fashioned, but this looks too inviting."
Plainly, this is a trap. You must find another way, the Crest insisted.
"There are no other ways," Dante replied.
Nevertheless, you cannot-
The Crest's words were drowned out by a mocking voice, its words drifting down the stone steps. "That pipsqueak I hear talking to itself below - I wonder who it can be? Perhaps a rat has wandered into the fabled Forbidden Citadel, searching for cheese. Run away, vermin, there's nothing for you here."
"Ivanov," Dante snarled.
"Why, the vermin recognises my voice. Perhaps it is not a rat after all. Is somebody else down there? The so-called Hero of Rudinshtein, perhaps?"
"What do you want, scumbag?"
"A little respect will do for a start," Ivanov replied. "Call me general."
Dante spat an obscenity at the taunting voice.
"Such language! And I thought the Romanov family was taught proper manners, like every other noble house. But then, there's nothing noble about you, is there? Nikolai Dante, bastard offspring of a disgraced dynasty and a sea-hag, who murdered women and children to line her purse!"
"That's rich, coming from a butcher who's raped and murdered most of a province," Dante retorted. "During the war there was a rumour you could only achieve sexual climax by violence. What's the problem, Vassily? Can't get it up unless somebody's bleeding in front of you?"
"Sticks and stones may break my bones," Ivanov snapped back.
"But at least they'll give you a hard-on."
"The Hero of Rudinshtein reveals his true colours: a foul-mouthed guttersnipe excreted by some ocean-going whore too lazy to have an abortion. Of course, what could I expect from a coward who fled his own kingdom, who left his people to die while he went adventuring across the Empire? What kind of hero does that? You could have come back to save your precious province, tried to rescue the scum you claim to love. But you didn't have the balls."
Dante's face twisted with anger and fury as he moved closer to the stone steps. Don't do it, the Crest warned. Ivanov is trying to goad you into making a mistake.
"I don't need his goading to make those," Dante said bitterly.
Perhaps not, Nikolai, but even you must see sacrificing yourself to silence him will achieve nothing.
Dante paused. "Did you call me Nikolai? You never call me that."
Anything to get your attention, the Crest said. Or save you from yourself.
"Sorry to interrupt your schizophrenic small-talk," Ivanov called down. "Are you coming up or do I have to send down my men to fetch you?"
Dante smiled. "Come and get me, general."
Ivanov had sent down a dozen soldiers to capture the Romanov renegade, but they had not returned. He waited three more minutes with the rest of his men, listening to the sounds of fighting, then the sounds of pain, then the sounds of dying. After that, all was silent be
low. "How tiresome," the general said to himself. From the fifty soldiers still at his disposal, he sent another twenty down to pursue Dante while taking the rest up to the citadel's top level. It was time to secure the secret weapon, whatever it was. If must be here, otherwise why would Dante fight so hard for this place?
Mai flung herself sideways, avoiding another killing blow from the Enforcer. He was surprisingly fast, despite his bulk. She knew it would only take one direct hit from those hyper-powered gauntlets to finish her. Blue energy rippled between the joints of his body armour, maintaining a force shield around him that was almost impossible to penetrate. Mai had danced around him for more than ten minutes, somersaulting gymnastically from one point to another, flailing at him with her swords. But each thrust bounced away harmlessly. If there was a weak spot in the Enforcer's exo-skeleton, she would not find it from this distance.
I'll have to get inside his guard, she realised, and turn his size against him. Yet in the moment it took her to grasp this, he was already upon her. A mighty fist clutched at the air where her head had been. The Enforcer missed, but caught her long black hair, yanking Mai back in mid-air. She stabbed one of her swords into his chest with all her strength, but the blade broke off at the hilt and flew to the wooden floor beams. Mai tried to cut through his fingers with the other sword. However, he snapped the steel blade in two and tossed it aside as if it was a child's toy.
The Enforcer gripped her throat below her jaw, and held her up in the air at arm's length, examining Mai's pretty features. "You fight with great courage and skill," he said. "But you are no match for my power."
"You triumph without honour, letting your exo-skeleton fight for you. A true warrior would not need its power against me."
"Perhaps you are right," he conceded. "But I am not so foolish as to switch it off now." The Enforcer held up his free hand before Mai's face. "Such is the power of this suit, a single jab of my fingers would push your eyes out through the back of your skull. Does a quick death meet your wish for honour?"
"There is no honour in murder," Mai retorted.
"Of course, I could slap your face like this," the Enforcer said, his free hand swiping across her face like a thunderclap of pain. "To me that felt like the lightest of touches, but it almost took off your head. How much punishment can you take before the brain damage becomes permanent? Before it claims your life?"
A trickle of blood spilled from Mai's mouth, running down her chin on to the gauntlet round her neck. She lashed out with her feet, kicking desperately at his chest, trying to inflict some pain, however hopeless the attempt. This brought a laugh from the Enforcer, the futility of her actions amusing him. "And still this vixen fights back! You have a spirit that does you credit, but it shall not save you. I shall close my gauntlet around your neck and crush the bones within. It will not be the quickest of deaths, but your pain will soon be over. Goodbye."
Dante, this is foolhardy at best and potentially fatal if you fall from this height, the Crest warned. The odds against an unskilled, inexperienced individual like you successfully free-climbing a structure like this are-
"Never tell me the odds," Dante hissed under his breath. He was hanging from the outside of the citadel's second level, his fingertips clinging to the slightest of handholds. Above him, a wooden balcony protruded, its base supported by thick struts that dug into the side of the building. "You said it yourself, this is the only way to get the top floor without fighting my way through all of Ivanov's men."
Yes, I know what I said, but I didn't expect you to take it as a suggestion. I could count the number of times you've done that on one hand. If I had a hand, that is.
"For once in your precious existence, could you let me concentrate?"
Fine. But on your own head be it.
"That's exactly what I'll land on if you don't shut up!"
Charming. Kill yourself. See if I care.
"Thank you." Dante closed his eyes, preparing himself mentally for the leap to grab at the nearest support strut. On the count of three, he told himself. One... Two... Th-
Which I don't, by the way.
"Diavolo!" Dante cursed, almost losing his handholds on the citadel wall. "Must you always have the last word?"
Not always.
"Good, then shut the hell up!"
I simply prefer to offer the occasional observation in the hope these comments of mine might guide you toward a wiser course of action.
Dante screamed obscenities at the sky, then hurled his body towards the wooden support before his Crest could make another comment. His fingers scrabbled at the strut, clawing, grasping, then finally taking hold of it. He reached up to the balcony and dragged himself over to its edge. Straining mightily, he lifted his head high enough to see past the wooden banisters and through a pair of glass doors. Beyond them Dante could make out Khumbu, pacing back and forth, and the Mukari seated on the floor. This must be her room, he realised.
"Crest," he said, but no response came. "Crest?"
I thought you didn't want me to speak.
"Stop sulking and scan that room. The Mukari said she was bonded with a Crest. Can you detect it inside that room?"
Yes. It is bonded with the Mukari's mind.
"Like you are with mine?"
I cannot be more specific. Her Crest is far more powerful than any other I have encountered before, preventing me from discovering its secrets undetected.
"Then there's no need for subtlety, is there?" Dante asked, clambering up and over the balcony's railings.
You were being subtle?
Khumbu heard the balcony door's opening and swung round to confront the intruder. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"It's me, Nikolai Dante," the new arrival announced. "I see Ivanov hasn't got here yet, there's still hope." He crouched beside the girl. She was still playing with her toy elephant, sadness in her eyes.
"Ivanov is looking for a weapon. Is it nearby?"
"Yes," she said evenly.
"Can we use it against the Imperials?"
"Not directly, no."
"But you created the avalanche that swept most of Ivanov's men away."
Khumbu intervened, grasping Dante's arm and pulling the unbeliever back from the goddess. "Show the Mukari the respect she deserves, outsider!"
Dante wrenched his arm free. "Don't you get it, old man? The general will kill everyone and everything in this place to get that weapon. Without it we have no defence against him. Your precious citadel will be levelled and your goddess murdered in front of you."
"I cannot act against the darkness directly," the Mukari said. "That is why I brought you and Mai here, and the others. You are my champions. If you fail, all is lost. But no victory comes without a cost."
Khumbu could hear shouting in the corridor outside the throne room. "That voice, I know that voice..."
"Poor Gylatsen," the girl said, a single tear rolling down her sad face.
Gylatsen had heard the soldiers coming long before they arrived outside the throne room. He pressed his back against the wooden door, preparing himself for what was to come. The Mukari had told him about this moment long ago, how the end would engulf the citadel, how his life would be sacrificed to save hers. To know he would die in such a worthy cause had been a comfort before today. But now the moment was almost upon him, it was no comfort. Gylatsen pressed his palms together, letting all the energy stored within his thin frame gather between them.
Along the corridor he heard the general talking with another man. Ivanov told him to kill the woman and be quick about it. He must mean Mai, Gylatsen realised. She might be still alive - but not for long.
Now the soldiers were marching towards Gylatsen, boots stomping in time with each other on the wooden beams, bringing death with them.
Forgive me, goddess, but I am scared, he prayed. I don't want to die.
Everything dies, the Mukari whispered into his mind. I am with you, now and forever. I always will be.
"Thank you,
" he whispered, swallowing hard.
A phalanx of soldiers surrounded the monk, their weapons aimed at his chest. From nearby a voice commanded them into action. "What are you waiting for? He's one man. Strike him down!"
As the soldiers opened fire Gylatsen opened his hands and let the purple energy escape, electrocuting all those within reach of him. He died, but more than twenty of the Imperials perished with him, screaming in agony.
The Enforcer waited until Ivanov and the other soldiers had passed before turning his attention back to Mai. His fingers tightened their grasp round her neck, until Mai could feel the blood pounding inside her forehead, blackness closing over her vision. A voice entered her head, childlike and soothing, urging her to keep fighting, to lash out with all her might. Mai kicked one last time and felt something give way under her foot, as if she had connected with a small button. The gentle hum of energy from the Enforcer's exo-skeleton faded and then was gone, his grip on her throat slackening at the same time. "N... No!" he stammered. "You couldn't have known how to do that!"
Mai kicked at him again, this time aiming her blow higher so it caught him under the chin. The Enforcer's head snapped backward and he let go of her, both hands clawing at his throat, choking and gasping for breath.
Mai dropped to the floor, one hand closing over the broken blade of her sword Before the Enforcer could react, she was slicing it across his body, hacking at the gaps between his body armour, blood spurting from the wounds.
He went down before her savage attack, crumpling to one knee, his gauntlets held up to ward off further blows. Mai stabbed the broken blade through one of his hands, pulled it free and impaled his other hand with it. She stepped back, satisfied with the amount of blood the Enforcer was losing. But something about his response disturbed her. Most men would be begging for mercy by now, or weeping in agony. But the Enforcer remained where he was, staring at his pierced hands. Finally, he started laughing.