Dragon_The Final War

by JC Andrijeski

  She’d been crying as she left.

  Clearing his throat, Revik took a step backwards, then another.

  Swallowing, he tore his gaze from Eren’s face, making a polite gesture with one hand to invite them in.

  As he walked them back, he focused on details of the room rather than any one of them. He continued to avoid faces as they filed into the apartment after him.

  None of them sat until he did.

  Eren and Kidi planted themselves by the far wall, their hands visibly resting on the butts of their sidearms. They gripped the guns without any particular menace in their postures or faces, but the message could not have been more clear.

  Returning to his place on the leather chair, Revik gestured vaguely with his fingers, watching the other four seers and Menlim sink to the tiger-skin couch.

  He waited until they all sat more or less across from him.

  “Anything to drink, brothers and sisters?” he said then, aiming his fingers at the bar that stood on one end of the living room.

  He watched Eren and Kidi follow the direction of his eyes and fingers, and frown. He felt more than saw them quirk their mouths at him.

  Revik felt his face harden, but did not otherwise react.

  And yes, it might be strange for him to be playing host here, given it was more or less a holding cell, but he wasn’t sure how far they wanted him to push this fiction, either. When he looked back at the seers on the couch, he found them all staring at him blankly.

  They looked at him as if he’d just offered to strip for them.

  Making a polite noise and gesture of refusal, Menlim answered for the rest of them.

  “No, brother Syrimne,” he said, his voice holding the barest bite of cold. “We are all quite comfortable, thank you.”

  None of the others looked away from Revik’s face.

  They seemed to be looking at his light as much as his face and body.

  Revik did a quick scan of faces, his hands clenching where he leaned his elbows on his thighs. He cleared his throat, looking at the carpet for a beat before he looked back at Menlim.

  Again, he noticed that creeping sensation of youth, of a child about to be punished for doing wrong. He fought it, knowing the construct likely intensified those feelings.

  Eventually he had to let it go.

  The silence had stretched too long already.

  “You knew I was coming?” he said, directing the question at Menlim.

  “Yes,” the old seer said. He quirked an eyebrow, looking Revik over unsmilingly. “I was informed yesterday morning.”

  That would have been around the time Allie found the note.

  Revik nodded, looking down at his hands. He didn’t bother to state the obvious around Menlim’s timely information.

  “Then you know why I’m here,” he said.

  At that, Menlim clicked in a low voice.

  The sound held as much disbelief as acknowledgment.

  Glancing sideways at Ute, then at Tan and Rigor, he let a thin smile touch his colorless lips.

  Revik saw no humor in the expression, or any emotion at all, really.

  But then, he found himself looking at Menlim in a way he never had before. Maybe it was Allie’s influence. Or maybe he was less a prisoner of his childhood these days in general, despite the unease and doubts stirred by those older resonances.

  He wondered how much New York and San Francisco might have played a part in forging that difference, in addition to his wife’s light.

  Either way, he found himself studying the skull-like face almost clinically.

  All of it was familiar: the nearly translucent skin stretched taut over high cheekbones, the bones around the orbits of his eyes, the pale yellow irises. The iron gray hair and goatee. The long fingers and hands. The emaciated shape of his shoulders and chest.

  Even his clothes.

  The gray dress shirt might not be familiar per se, but it looked similar enough to things the aged seer had worn in the past, it fit with Revik’s memories perfectly.

  Yet, despite all that familiarity, he might have been a different being entirely.

  Revik wondered how he could ever have seen the Sark as alive. It seemed so obvious now, what it really was. What it had always been.

  “Do I know your reasons for being here?” Menlim said, cold as ice. “No, brother, I do not. I know the reasons you gave your wife in the note you left. I know the reasons you pretended to give her, at least. Whether her understanding might be different due to conversations the two of you may have had in private… that, I do not know.”

  Revik didn’t bother to ask what he meant.

  “My true reason isn’t much different than what I told her,” he said, gesturing dismissively. “I am here to bargain for the lives of my family. To offer myself in trade.”

  Menlim was already shaking his head.

  “Nephew, nephew, nephew.” He clicked at him, the sound holding regret. “You disappoint me. You must truly think little of me to believe I would fall for a ruse of this kind. I almost feel pity for you, if this is the best you and your wife can manage in response to what you learned in Dubai. It tells me how very desperate you must be.”

  Revik didn’t bother to react.

  He also didn’t bother to deny the implications of Menlim’s words.

  There would have been absolutely no point. He knew that the second he entered this construct, any pretense to privacy in his own mind would be gone.

  That was assuming it hadn’t been gone already.

  At Revik’s last thought, Salinse let out a low grunt, almost a laugh.

  Revik glanced at him. Giving the aged seer an openly dismissive look, he aimed his gaze back at Menlim.

  “Whatever I think of you is irrelevant,” Revik said.

  His voice came out blunt, surprisingly calm to his own ears.

  “I did not say I offered myself without stipulation. Nor did I say I would ever be loyal to you or yours in any way, ever again. I, of course, assume you would want safeguards of various kinds to ensure I cannot harm you. Assuming we can agree on terms at all.”

  He shrugged with one hand, inclining his head.

  “…It goes without saying that you would never allow me anywhere near any sensitive information. I came to negotiate a trade I could live with. One that might buy my family their lives. Nothing more. If you want to believe some elaborate ruse lives behind this, that is your prerogative. I won’t discourage the idea, but it might waste a significant amount of time. Particularly given your awareness of the limitations of my own light in regard to yours.”

  Menlim’s eyes narrowed.

  Some of that humor-that-wasn’t-humor faded from his eyes, as did the feigned regret, or pity, or whatever the other had been.

  The seer in the gray dress shirt frowned, leaning back into the cushions of the tiger-skin couch. His back remained perfectly straight as he wove his own hands together in his lap, halfway mirroring Revik’s pose.

  “So… a hired gun?” Menlim said politely, a tauter smile playing at his bone-colored lips. “Is that what you propose to be to me, brother Dehgoies?”

  Revik scarcely hesitated.

  Making an assenting gesture with one hand, he tilted his head in acknowledgment.

  “I would probably think of it that way, yes. I would not discourage you to think of it the same.”

  He glanced at Eren where he stood by the wall, then at Tan, who sat nearer, on the couch.

  Revik added, “I would think such a thing might still have value to you, despite the number and quality of your current assets. I would not be willing to aim myself at my wife or anyone in her camp, of course. But I thought I might be of some use still. There are no doubt other security concerns you and your people harbor. There are no doubt other areas where you have designs for…” He waved a hand. “…Expansion.”

  “Such as?” Menlim said, his voice formally polite.

  “China,” Revik said at once, meeting that empty gaze. “Macau. P
erhaps Moscow, if my information is correct about the bulk of Russia having recently fallen to a coup orchestrated by seer unaffiliateds. I hear you are running across problems in several places, in fact––ever since those crime families began signing treaties with one another in an attempt to carve out territory of their own. I am told the new military power in Moscow has strong ties not only to Macau and the Ukraine but also increasingly to Mexico City, Rio and Chicago. Again… assuming I am not mistaken in the information I have received on those places.”

  Revik opened his hands in a smooth, conciliatory gesture.

  “I also thought you might have an interest in London,” he added, glancing at Ute.

  Seeing the hostility there, his eyes shifted to Rigor before returning to Menlim.

  “…Possibly Cairo. Saigon. Bangkok. Those four places remain detached from the crime family strongholds, I’m told. For now, at least. You and I both know they will be targeted soon, if they haven’t been already. I’m sure you’re aware there were terrorist attacks on Bangkok while I was there. Vancouver, too, is still in dispute, as is Los Angeles––again, assuming my information is up to date and accurate.”

  When he finished speaking, he saw a few of them exchange looks.

  Ute frowned at him openly, glancing at Tan in a way that made Revik think they were likely talking inside the Barrier, either arguing about what he’d said or about what they saw in his light as he said it.

  It made sense. They would be assessing his light as he spoke, along with his words. They would be looking for lies, for any attempts to manipulate or deceive.

  They’d also be trying to assess his mental state more generally.

  They were probably already trying to pull intel from him, too––although from what Menlim just said, he clearly had other and likely better sources inside Allie’s camp for that.

  “My wife’s not a threat to you anymore.” Revik’s voice hardened as he looked back at Menlim. “Neither is my daughter… or my son. Let them go.”

  “And the remainder of the Four?” Menlim said, his voice smooth as glass. “Shall I simply ‘let them go’ too, nephew?”

  Revik met his gaze. “Yes.”

  Ute swore from the other side of the couch.

  Next to her, Salinse shook his gray head, clicking under his breath. Revik felt more than heard reactions from Tan and Rigor, too.

  Only Eren and Kidi remained silent from where they stood by the wall.

  “You don’t need them,” Revik said. “You don’t. Leave them be.”

  But now Menlim shook his head, as well. He gave Revik another of those questioning looks. Or perhaps the look there was simply disbelief.

  In either case, when he clicked softly, his light exuded a pale cloud of contempt.

  “And why should I do that, brother?” He held his hands out in question. “Would you yourself so quickly abandon your friends? Your beloved children? Clearly, you feel some familial obligations yourself, brother Dehgoies… or you would not be here. Yet you expect me to have no such loyalties of my own? You expect me to abandon War Cassandra to her mortal enemy, the Bridge? And Feigran? Do you intend for me to leave your brother locked up in one of your wife’s ‘tanks’ for the rest of his life? They are as much family to me as you are, brother. One could argue more so, given their loyalty to me never wavered… nor mine to them.”

  At the end, his voice was dipped in steel.

  Revik nodded, expressionless. “I understand. I knew this might be a sticking point.”

  “Did you?” Menlim’s thin lips hardened in another smile. That time, the contempt rose to the surface. “Well… dazzle me, brother. Tell me what it is that you offer me. What is it that you have that would make me as disloyal, ungrateful and arrogant as you?”

  Revik’s jaw tensed.

  He didn’t look up.

  Clicking softly, he combed his fingers through his hair, then glanced at the other seers on the couch. “Would you perhaps agree to a compromise on the point of my brother and sister of the Four?” he said politely. “A time-bound one?”

  “What compromise would that be?” Menlim said.

  “Give me one year. One year as your… employee.” Revik made another flowing gesture with his hand, one that connoted the future. “At the end of that time, we will do one of two things. Discuss a change in terms in regards to your construct and my light…” He let that dangle before adding, “…Or, if we cannot agree on modified terms, I will hunt down and kill the other two of the Four for you.”

  Ute let out a disbelieving snort.

  Revik glanced at her, but only just.

  He looked back at Menlim, narrowing his eyes.

  “Surely that would not be objectionable to you?” he said. “After all, I would be releasing their souls for more fruitful undertakings…?”

  Revik let his voice drop to a harder note.

  “More to the point,” he said. “I would be taking them away from the Bridge and her allies. For good.”

  Menlim’s eyes changed slightly, holding a more intent sheen as they studied Revik’s.

  “Then this current agreement,” he said. “The one you initially propose… this ‘hired gun’ contract you are offering me now… I take from your words, it does not include your full integration into our construct here?”

  “It does not,” Revik affirmed, making a negative gesture with his hand. “I will work for you. I will follow orders and offer counsel when asked. I will keep no relevant secrets from you or your people. But I will not be your ‘nephew.’”

  He hit the word hard, infusing it with deliberate contempt.

  “…Nor will I acknowledge any other bullshit euphemism for acting as your personal puppet. We will pretend no loyalty, or ties of affection or family between us, Menlim. I will be a prisoner here, albeit under contract. If that means wearing a collar, so be it. I will conform to any security measures you desire to make my presence here harmless to you. Anything beyond that would need to be negotiated separately, as I said. I will not try to escape, but I will also not be yours. I am offering a trade for services… nothing more.”

  Menlim continued to watch him, a more concentrated look playing at his eyes and brow.

  Revik saw a faint, quizzical frown form at his lips.

  That one felt almost real.

  Menlim refolded his hands, deepening the frown.

  “What makes you so certain we will not simply force you into our own relationship with your light, brother Dehgoies?” the gray-haired seer said. “Why would we bother to wait for your consent? We could use wires along with any number of cruder mechanisms to force your light to conform to ours. Surely you know this. Given the utter lack of loyalty you’ve shown to me over the years, why should you think I would even hesitate?”

  Revik felt his throat tighten.

  Anger lived there briefly.

  He knew Menlim likely saw it, or felt it pulsing off his light.

  Revik didn’t much care about that, either. Nor did he bother to point out they’d cut his child out of his wife’s body, leaving her comatose in the wake of that action, mere months before they tried to kill her again in New York.

  “I won’t waste either of our time arguing the semantics of your notions of ‘loyalty,’ brother,” Revik said, giving him a harder look. “I strongly suspect there is no way we will ever see our personal history together in remotely the same terms. I will say only that if you do that, you will never obtain access to the higher areas of my light. Specifically the telekinesis, of course, but also the parts of my light I suspect you would like to access for other purposes… structural purposes having to do with the nature of your network here on Earth.”

  Revik’s voice grew colder. He clenched his fingers where they rested between his knees.

  “You seem to be all right with the two of us being blunt,” he said. “All right, I’ll be blunt. I’ll make sure I’m entirely fucking brain dead before I give you access to any of those structures without my consent, brother. Fur
ther, I’d let myself, my wife and my daughter die from the bond before I’d let you turn me into a slave that might harm my own family.”

  Menlim’s smile grew more shrewd.

  For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

  Then, slowly, he nodded his head. His eyes remained sharp, watching Revik with a different kind of scrutiny, one that held more wariness.

  “Fine,” he said neutrally. “Do you have any further stipulations, nephew?”

  Revik didn’t bother to ask him not to call him that.

  Waving a hand dismissively, he nodded. “Yes. There is one more thing. The trigger. What you used on me in Dubai.”

  “What about it, Nenzi?” Menlim said politely.

  “I would like it removed,” Revik said.

  Menlim smiled. That time Revik felt a coil of harder amusement on the Dreng’s light. Before Menlim could speak, Revik raised a hand, giving him a cold look.

  “I recognize that is probably not on the table.”

  “It is not,” Menlim said, his voice ice.

  “Fine,” Revik said, nodding. “Then I will trust you not to activate it, in the event I fulfill my end of any contract we enact between us.”

  Menlim chuckled outright at that.

  Shaking his head, that amusement still on his lips, he held out his hands expansively, that smile widening with his arms.

  “Again… I am overwhelmed with emotion at the trust you place in me, nephew,” Menlim said, his voice a smile. “Why in the name of the gods would I do that, brother? Truly, why would I not simply activate it now? Send you after that traitorous, whore cunt of a wife of yours this very afternoon?”

  Revik flinched, but didn’t speak.

  “…A wife that clearly sent her husband here… at great personal risk to him, I might add… to do her underhanded bidding? What makes either of you think for a single second that I would hesitate to kill her before she can get one hundred miles outside of Bangkok? Tell me, brother. For I am quite curious on this point.”

  Revik shook his head, once.

  “You will not,” he said. “For several reasons, I suspect. One, if you could kill the Bridge so easily, you would have done so already. Which means one of several things. I’m betting that, in part, this is because the trigger can only be activated effectively under certain limits. I would guess a particular span of time? Perhaps until I lose consciousness, either due to sleep deprivation or some outside cause? Or perhaps it only operates inside a construct controlled by your wider network?”