Raider

by Justine Davis

  It had taken a while for her to come around. But Eirlys held this fight as important as they all did, and eventually she did. She was learning fast. And she would learn even faster now.

  Before the younger woman could speak now, Kye put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I will bring him back,” she said, “or I won’t come back.”

  “So then we will lose the both of you?” Eirlys said, sounding as bitter as Kye had ever heard anyone sound.

  “Eirlys—”

  “I’m sorry. I know you love him as much as I do. You are pledged in all but formality. But we’ve lost so much, I can’t bear to lose him and you too.”

  Kye went still. She and Eirlys had never discussed her relationship—her changed relationship—with Drake, although she knew the girl knew. As if she’d read her thoughts, Eirlys met her gaze. “You are my sister, Kye. I have long thought of you that way.”

  Kye felt moisture pooling in her eyes, and she hugged the girl fiercely. “And I you, Eirlys Davorin.”

  “Promise me we will ever be so, no matter what.”

  Kye knew what she meant. If she could not rescue Drake, or if he was already dead. And she understood now more than ever what Drake had once told her, of how it pained him to see his young sister so versed in the painful reality of living in a conquered city on a conquered world.

  “Always,” Kye whispered.

  Brander, who had, with unusual tact, hung back to give them this moment, now stepped up. Close behind Eirlys, Kye noted. “We’re ready,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Kye shook her head. “You cannot, Brander.”

  His brows shot up.

  “You must not go with me. You have to survive, to take over if it goes bad and he is unable to.”

  “So I’m to let you go on your own?” he asked incredulously.

  She drew herself up. “I will not be alone. I will have the finest of the Sentinels at my back.”

  “You will,” he acknowledged. “But I’m supposed to sit here, safe and in hiding, and do nothing?”

  “I was hoping,” Kye said, “you might put that big, noisy new toy of yours to use.”

  He drew back slightly. “The rail gun?”

  “If they thought we were blowing up the planium mines . . . ,” she began.

  Brander stared, and then grinned. Widely. “Cousin of mine, you are as brilliantly clever as the Raider always said you were.”

  Those words warmed her beyond measure, but she had no time now to relish it. “Speaking of the Raider, I think you should do it in his guise. And be sure the miners see you.”

  “One more layer of doubt that they have him,” he said, clearly planning rapidly now. “The northernmost, I think, as far from here as possible. It will take care to make sure none of them are hurt, but I’ll manage.”

  And you’ll be getting used to being the Raider in the process. For Drake had been right; the extraordinary warrior of Ziem was an idea as much as a man.

  “And in the meantime,” she said, yanking her mind away from the possibility Brander might have to do just that, “I’ll send some who have willing family in town to round them up to descend on Barcon’s office. Corner the little skalworm, threaten him about some grievance. Make him afraid for his own worthless life.”

  Brander frowned. “To what end? You think he will just order Jakel to let Drake go? Or that Jakel would obey him if he did?”

  “No. But he will summon every guard in the building to protect him.”

  Brander’s expression cleared instantly. “That he will, the coward.” He grinned at her. “You have learned well, cousin.”

  “I grew up with you, didn’t I?”

  He laughed. Then he reached into his pack and pulled out the bulky hand weapon she’d seen before, when he’d been testing it. She remembered her shock as it obliterated everything it hit, but only what it hit, in utter silence, not leaving anything larger than dust behind. Even if the target was only grazed, it worked.

  He handed it to her. “It might help. You remember how it works?”

  She nodded. Took it gratefully, but gingerly. Took her blaster out of its holster and tucked it into her belt, and put the new weapon in its place, safer from accidental firing, which would probably obliterate her.

  Brander turned to go, but stopped to look at Eirlys, put a hand on her arm. “If it is possible to save him, she will.”

  “I know.” Eirlys put a hand over his. Her jaw was tight, but her eyes were oddly alight as she looked at him. Kye realized suddenly that until now, the girl had not known of Brander’s double life, almost as risky as her brother’s. “You must take care. I cannot lose you, either.”

  An expression Kye had never seen before crossed Brander’s face. There wasn’t a trace of his usual insouciance or flippancy, and their absence changed him completely. “Promise me you will stay here?” he said, and the solemnity echoed in his voice. “You have no experience with this.”

  “Yet,” Eirlys said with determination. “But yes, I will wait until I learn. And someone must rein in the twins just now. They are fierce.”

  When he had gone, Eirlys turned back to Kye.

  “I must go now as well,” Kye said.

  “You have a plan?”

  Somehow, she thought figuring it out as she went wouldn’t be a comforting answer. “I will use whatever is to hand. Brander’s toy may well solve the biggest problem. And I have good, solid help. You saw how many have volunteered. Some will provide diversions, some will be ready to fight, some to get him back if I can’t.”

  Eirlys winced, but said evenly enough, “How will you get to him?”

  She would do, Kye thought, with a feeling of pride that told her how completely she did consider this girl her sister. And Eirlys would learn, as she’d said. “That, I don’t know yet. I’ll need to get inside the compound, into the building, but—”

  The twins yelped simultaneously. Both women shifted to look at them.

  “We know how!”

  Were they anyone but the Davorin twins, Kye would never have taken the suggestions of two thirteen-year-olds seriously. But they were who they were, and so she listened. And when they had finished, she laughed.

  And set out to save the man she loved, and Ziem needed.

  Chapter 44

  KYE MISSED THE spot at first, before reminding herself that seven paces past the mistbreaker tree was a shorter distance for the twins than for her. She backed up a couple of steps slowly, peering intently through the mist. She still saw nothing. She knew there had to be a scentbrush close by; she could smell it. She took one more step back. Spotted a thick tangle of branches that looked utterly natural, and yet completely masked the ground behind them.

  She slipped behind the screen of branches, realized that in the mist even she would likely be concealed from someone standing right where she had been. The twins had done a brilliant job of hiding their passageway to trouble.

  A memory came to her, of Drake glumly speaking after one of their escapades.

  “They always make me think of that old riddle about what’s easy to get into but hard to get out of.”

  “What?”

  “Trouble.”

  And now, with a bit of luck and a lot of help, their cleverness just might save their brother’s life.

  She brushed at the ground, at the layer of dirt, twigs, and leaves that looked like nothing more than normal ground debris. Felt the edge the twins had told her about, dug her fingers in, and lifted.

  The opening to the small passage was both encouraging and defeating. She would fit through it, as they’d guessed, but there was no way to bring Drake out this way—his broad shoulders would never fit. But she had assumed as much; after all, the twins had been focused on getting themselves down here, not adults. And she was amazed they’d done it as w
ell as they had, and wondered how long it had taken them to dig and how they’d kept it secret.

  She turned to Maxon and Mara, the two Sentinels who had accompanied her, and signaled them to wait. They knew to divert anyone who got curious, and had flasks of brew to splash about if the Coalition found them, in the hope they’d be assumed just another pair of downtrodden Ziemites who’d wandered off the path in their stupor, perhaps in search of a hidden place for a drunken mating.

  She took hold of the rope the twins had used to lower themselves down the tunnel’s short vertical entrance. It was only a drop of about her own height, and the tunnel itself was small enough that she had to crouch to get through, but with some inventive twisting, she was soon on her way.

  She moved on a few feet, where the passage widened and connected to a much more formally constructed tunnel. It was larger, but much of it was taken up by old, no longer used pipes and conduits, abandoned when the Coalition had brought in their own systems. The air was surprisingly fresh, and she guessed the twins’ shaft served as ventilation for the forgotten tunnel.

  She kept going, thinking all the way. She would just have to get him up to where the Harkins would be using skills that had once built many of the buildings of Zelos to cut an escape hole in this one. It was going to take them time, but she was likely to need every second of it.

  She reached a spot where the tunnel narrowed slightly, guessed that she was passing under the wall. As she went, she pictured the layout the twins had given her. They weren’t much on specific distances, using instead their own size for measuring, but she knew how far the compound wall was from the wall of the building, and kept that in her mind. Their rapid-fire directions played back in her head.

  “It comes out—”

  “In a storeroom where—”

  “They keep cleaning stuff.”

  “There’s a panel—”

  “But it’s loose and you only—”

  “Have to nudge it.”

  “Then go left and—”

  “Jakel’s room—” Lux had made a face at this “—is at—”

  “The end.”

  “Watch for the guard at—”

  “The connection with the—”

  “Big tunnel but—”

  “He’s usually asleep.”

  She’d hugged them both, and they’d hugged her back.

  “Save him,” they had said together. “We know you can.”

  This time, their faith had bolstered her. “With your help, there’s a chance.”

  “He is ours.”

  “And we are Ziem,” Lux had added, “As much as any Sentinel.”

  “Indeed you are.”

  The panel they had mentioned did indeed slide easily away. Almost too easily, and she had to grab it before it clattered to the floor and alerted anyone within earshot. She crept across the room, which was thick with the dust the items stored there were supposed to deal with. She could see tracks across the floor, small feet, likely the twins.

  She listened at the door for as long as she could stand. She heard nothing, and edged the door open just far enough to steal a look. The low, dingy corridor outside was dimly lit, and utterly silent. But in the distance, there was a cross-tunnel, brighter and—

  Feet. A pair of booted feet stuck out into the corridor. As if someone, probably the twins’ mentioned guard, was sitting in the brighter passage and comfortably lolling back with his legs outstretched.

  She backed up, thinking. She could take him out, but needed to figure out how to do it without giving him time to call for help. She didn’t want to fire a weapon that might echo and be heard, so she’d need total silence, and—

  She froze as she heard a loud crackle from that direction. Then shouting. It took her a heart-stopped split-second to realize she was hearing the shouting through a speaker. And then she recognized the shouting—almost hysterical—voice and grinned despite herself.

  Barkhound.

  The man sounded like he was under attack by a squadron of Coalition fighters. The Sentinels had obviously found a nice crowd to descend on his office.

  The feet she’d seen scraped the floor. She heard an oath, and a description of Barcon she’d only heard from her own side. The guard stood, but seemed in no hurry to rush, as ordered, to the man’s aid. Kye waited, barely daring to breathe, and at last, the man went to the lifter and hit the summoning button.

  Her mind raced as she waited to hear the distinctive whoosh of the lifter doors sliding closed. He hadn’t spoken to anyone else, and she hadn’t heard another voice, but that wasn’t proof positive there wasn’t someone else here. For all she knew, Jakel was in his little playroom. Maybe with the two troopers he’d brought to the taproom as backup.

  So be it.

  She drew her blaster and nudged the door open slowly. When silence reigned, she crept forward, taking care with every step. She reached the junction. The guard’s chair sat at an angle, alone in a small corner. There was no sign of anyone else.

  For the first time, she took a long look at the door another ten feet down, at the end of the corridor. Was Drake in there? What horrors were housed there? Was he even alive?

  She beat down the questions, knowing the only way to answer them was within reach. She took a last listen and glance around, then went forward as quickly as she could and still maintain the silence.

  The door was locked. Hardly a surprise. A hit from her blaster would do for the knob, but it would also announce her to anyone inside. She listened yet again, and heard nothing from inside. But something about the walls and the door itself nagged at her, and she backed up a step.

  Thicker. The walls protruded slightly into the corridor here, as if they were thicker than the rest. Why?

  It hit her like a nauseating blow to the stomach.

  Soundproofed.

  All the reasons why Jakel’s playroom would be soundproofed careened through her mind. It took every ounce of will she had to shove them out. That left her with nothing but cold, emotionless determination.

  She switched her blaster to her left hand. The Raider said she was a better shot with her left than most were with their dominant hand. She hoped he was right. She drew out the weapon Brander had given her, the one he was still trying to duplicate. She armed it at the lowest setting. Aimed it at the door handle. Fired.

  The handle and lock silently vanished. The door, loose now, swung a fraction open on its own. She moved swiftly. Shoved her way in. Weapons up. Ready to fire.

  The room was empty.

  Except for worse things than she had even imagined. Chains, prods, blades of all types. And metal and power devices whose purpose she could not even conceive of.

  And blood. There was blood on the floor, on the table in the center, that heap of clothes piled against the wall was soaked with it, and the wall behind—

  Her gaze snapped back to that bloody pile of rags.

  Except it wasn’t.

  She darted around the gruesome table. Knelt. Nearly screamed.

  Drake.

  Barely recognizable. Battered, swollen, bruised, cut, burned . . . broken. Limp and unmoving. Cold.

  She’d never felt anything like the chill that took her now.

  Her brain hammered her heart with the obvious.

  He was dead.

  Drake, and the Raider, were dead. Dead and thrown on the floor like so much refuse.

  And he had died hard and ugly, just as she’d feared. At the hands of that sub-human.

  The chill became ice. Nothing mattered now, except her new life’s goal. She would see Jakel dead. And it would be as painful and as long as she could make it last.

  Chapter 45

  KYE REACHED OUT, wanted to touch him, but there seemed no place that wasn’t damaged. And telling herself that
he could feel nothing now didn’t help.

  She would find Jakel. She would find the monster who had done this, and she would carve him into too many pieces to count with his own laser pistol. And if they killed her for it, so be it.

  Her teeth almost chattered with the iciness that had overtaken her. She clenched her jaw. Made herself look, take in every detail. She wanted to etch into her mind the memory of what Jakel had done. She wanted it emblazoned there, for when she found him. But now . . .

  She had to get Drake out of here. She could not leave him here, alone. She could not bear even the thought of it. She would get him out, and he would rest in that final peace on the mountain he loved. She had been too late to save him, but he would lie free, eternally. Somehow she would—

  Her gaze snagged on his face, his cheek where the scars would have been, had he not shed the disguise. Blood there, as in so many places. It dripped slowly over his bruised face, bright, red, wet.

  It finally got through the numbness.

  Blood. Fresh blood.

  He was actively bleeding.

  Her fingers shot to his throat, heedless now of anything but the fierce hope that seized her.

  Nothing. She pressed harder. Held her breath.

  There. Faintly. Barely. But there.

  A pulse.

  He was alive.

  Kye felt a shiver of joy ripple through her. He was alive.

  With the greatest effort she had ever made, she tamped it down. All reason told her he was barely hanging on. If she could even rouse him, he might not be able to move. And she could not carry him.

  She had to assess, she thought, forcing herself to logic. It hurt her beyond measure to inflict more pain on him, but she had to move him, had to see just how badly he was injured and where.

  She eased him away from the wall with exquisite care. Only now noticed the lock dangling from the metal loop in the wall, where the chains that held his wrists had likely been fastened. Anger stirred anew, low and deep. She banked it. Time enough after he was safe.

  That he would likely die in the process did not escape her.