by Julie Ishaya
"Very good, Nexian," the kai teased him. "Show me that primal nature."
Pulling back into an on-guard position, Adam squared up his shoulders and reformed the blade to run along the back of his arm. In this way, the primary length of the telekinetic field was hidden behind him.
The kai held his blade before him one handed, the other hand relaxed down and out from his side.
The opponents circled, the kai watching Adam's eyes, while Adam kept his vision trained along the area of the kai's shoulders, attempting to predict the kai's movements while also avoiding a mindsting. Then Adam moved, bending his arm and bringing the blade around like an extension of his elbow. The edge swept the surface of the armor plate in the kai's upper arm.
The kai cringed away as Adam changed the position of the blade to extend forward again. When Adam brought the blade down in an overhead strike, the kai stepped aside and reached out for Adam's arm, pulling the Nexian prince forward while raising his blade. Adam's impulsive reaction saved him as he dropped to his knees and pried free of the kai. He lunged to his feet and angled a strike at the kai's own neck, but the blades caught against each other.
Adam leaned into his blade, trying to push the kai backward. The blades wavered, the opponents' faces close. Sweat ran into the corner of Adam's eyes and stung, his neck muscles pulling taut, and then without thinking, he looked up to check the recovery of his opponent—and looked directly into the kai's calm eyes.
"That's it, Adam Asmirrius," the kai said, his voice strained with his physical efforts. (No, don't look away, I've got something to share with you.)
Adam's eyes widened, and he recognized his mistake immediately only to feel the kai's presence creeping into him through those yellow eyes, the pupils widening into mouth-like ellipses. He felt himself being pulled toward the pupils, his entire being shrinking down and absorbing into the darkness, while the kai's consciousness flooded his body.
(You want to know how I manipulated the chamberlain?)
The voice reverberated inside Adam's head. His body stiffened against his will and he dropped his arms to his side, the shadow blade still projecting from his hand. The kai didn't attack. He merely retracted his blade and stepped away, straightened his cloak, adjusted his breath mask and visor around his face.
Adam's body shook, torn between two wills. A tight, hoarse groan escaped him as he felt his arm begin to move on its own, bringing the shadow blade up to level with his belly. The fighting around him sounded so far away while the kai's sending voice dominated the inner dimension of his mind.
(I could make you gut yourself if I wanted.) The kai moved closer, observing the trembling Nexian. (You struggle much in the same way the chamberlain did at first when he found his motor skills did not do as he willed them to. He was too ashamed to send for help, enslaved to your laws of will power as he was. So he gave away no surface thoughts pertaining to his dilemma, and your security systems never detected a thing.) The kai advanced again and tilted his head as he looked deeper into Adam's eyes. (Of course, I controlled him from a great distance, across space in fact. Impressive, don't you think? You, being so close, are so much easier.)
Adam gritted his teeth as the shift churned in him, driven by his rage, frustration, and fear. The shadow blade's edge split a line in the threads of his tunic but did not slice completely through the material. Then his arms fell away to his sides, but the blade continued to project from his hand.
(I might let you go if you agree to tell Kieriell that he will return with the Shiv to continue our studies of the gridcode. You are his father, he will listen to you.)
"No," Adam grunted.
The kai only shrugged. (Either way, you will tell him. Come now, there he is.) The kai gestured across the quad at the western grounds. (Let's rehearse.)
Adam found his body turning on its own, his shoulders appearing to relax though he still fought internally. His gaze leveled with the sight of Kieriell on the other side of the quad, standing near one of the youths from the school and Maven Ahrden. Even from this distance, Adam could see the confusion and worry in his son's eyes. Through his mental agony, Adam found the lingering joy that Kieriell was alive. But father and son were still divided by the space of dying conflict. Shiv bodies were strewn across the ground, along with those of some Nexians. New laser fire had opened from the north wall as the ground team had finally found a way into the school, but to Adam it all seemed useless as his hand rose by the kai's motor command and waved a gesture for Kieriell to approach.
Adam's lips moved and his voice tumbled out calm and smooth. "Listen to me, Kieriell. The kai and I have reached an agreement." This stunned him—he really was on the edge of betraying his son. Only he would be at fault, his weakness a permanent scar on his core-being. He hoped that Kieriell would find the situation too suspicious to believe. Surely it was. But the casual way in which the kai began to advance, Adam beside him, looked too real, as though they had found common ground.
Adam saw his boy take a step forward, cocking his head curiously and frowning. There was still a large space of ground to cross before they would come together.
Adam thrashed about within, finding no more sensation connected to his body. Only his consciousness watched, horrified, as Kieriell began to move forward to meet him. Then something the kai had just said stood out in his mind, something about the chamberlain: he had been too ashamed to send for help.
That must mean, Adam realized, that he could still send. The kai only controlled his motor skills. His mind still operated through the other cortexes of his brain. His thoughts made to lash out, to warn Kieriell that all was not as it seemed; his fight with the kai had not ended. His consciousness reached out as though digging up through mud, thick and heavy, until he bore himself free. The sending sped ahead of the kai and found Kieriell's mind alert.
(Kieriell, don't come near me! It's a trick!)
Kieriell froze, frowning deeper, confused.
(Remember the chamberlain!)
At that, a look of understanding crossed Kieriell's face. The boy's expression turned to one of intense hatred, and as the sending continued to issue from Adam's mind, unguarded in its urgency, the kai readily detected it, released his hold on Adam and spun around, his cy-netic arm a flash of silver as it rose.
Though still jostled mentally, Adam found the strength to attack, bringing his shadow blade up in an arc aimed to come down and split the kai's head. He was jolted when the kai's live hand shot out and caught hold of his wrist, staying the deadly strike.
At the same moment, the fist of the cy-nectic hand appeared to punch Adam in the lower belly. But it was't a mere punch that Adam felt but a stabbing, burning pain.
His mind moved through several levels of denial that he had actually taken a thrust to his gut. His mouth agape, he rolled his eyes down to see himself impaled, the kai's wrist bent to allow for the protrusion of a stealth blade sheathed in its victim. His hand, still bearing the shadow blade, remained suspended in midair, the kai clutching his wrist until the telekinetic field faded. Adam let his hand go limp, and he collapsed against the kai. His entire middle convulsed as if the blade was sawing back and forth, the charged edge charring his insides, forcing him to scream, his face close to the kai's.
He heard Kieriell echo him with an enraged, "Nooooooo!"
"You should not have warned him," the kai whispered, dropping Adam's wrist.
Unable to expend the psionics to bring the blade back to life, Adam reached up and clawed at the kai's breath mask. He pried it free with his talons, leaving three thin scratches in the kai's cheek.
The wires and tubes connecting the mask to the rest of the armor snapped and hissed. The kai's nose and mouth met the night air, and he grimaced as he reminded Adam who was really in check. He pulled upward, just so, with the blade.
Adam stuttered a moan-growl as the pain closed in around him. His canines extended into his gums, and spittle drained from the corners of his mouth along with undulating threads of blood
. Vessels protruded on his forehead along the edges of the scales. His only defense now was to deny that his last vision would be the dead-gray pallor of the Shiv kai's face. He closed his eyes and simply listened to the noises around him: the fragmented laser fire, feet running across the grass, distant shouting, the hushing of wind.
Then he heard nothing more and saw only white light.
37
Asmodéus leaned forward in his chair as the front screen in the shuttle's passenger cabin scanned over the golden lit city and angled upward to reveal the galleon of Imperial Command. The dark craft hovered high over Nall's western region, while there was no sign of the raptors that had followed it through the rift.
"Hail Imperial Command," the emperor said, and the neural engine complied. Asmodéus glanced over the small troop of Elites that sat along the walls of the cabin. The side windows looked out at the raptors as they fell in with the shuttle's flight pattern and sailed along side, uplifted by greater sea winds.
"Captain Sonixa Fahl'gir reporting," a familiar female voice replied, just before the screen pulled up her face and figure as she stood down bridge of the helm. "My lord, the Shiv ship reached the Ariahm School before we arrived. The reason for their presence and ours was reported to the liege of Nall, and the crown prince has removed via shuttle with a small troop to go down to speak with the kai."
"Has he sent you a report?"
"No, my lord." Fahl'gir's lens eyes seemed to darken as though she had a foreboding premonition. "His last order was that Imperial Command remain out of sight of the school grounds to avoid provoking the Shiv into doing any more harm. We were cut off from the shuttle soon after it landed. The raptors were sent around the city to land and dispatch ground units. Their last report stated that they had found entry through the school's north wall via an old portcullis."
Asmodéus could detect a tone of dread in her voice, a fear that she had made the wrong choice. She tried to cover it up, but he knew Fahl'gir to be stout, determined to serve her order to the fullest. "Hold your position, Captain. I will move ahead."
She bowed her head and the screen went blank before pulling up the view of the city and sky again. Three of the nine moons were visible, each orb in its own phase, and one of those phases very close to full. The silver light cast rings against the sky and dashed off the odd drift of cloud. The spires of the city had blinking blue lights on their uppermost points to warn low flying aircraft, while the lower city appeared still and quiet with no craft activity and no signs of life.
Asmodéus gave the command for the shuttle to proceed, and soon it reached the school. Hovering high above the rectangular outlines of the school walls around the inner and outer wards, the shuttle remained cloaked by its altitude. The raptors were commanded to circle, and after a magnified view of the place revealed the Shiv and Nexian crafts sitting amid the expanse of training ground in the school quad, Asmodéus prepared himself.
"Take us down," he said, "and continue to scan for the crown prince and Prince Kieriell Shyr'ahm." As the craft began its descent, he stepped closer to the screen, balancing himself against the jolt of wind resistance to the hull. "Notify the raptors that they are not to let that Shiv vessel leave. If it rises, they are to engage with intent to destroy."
"Yes, my lord."
Asmodéus noticed how the lights within the school's quadrangle grew brighter, and he watched, almost more fascinated than troubled over the conflict. From here, the streaks of laser fire looked like pen lines across paper, the figures of fighting men like tiny insects warring around their mound. The ones who remained standing appeared to be engaged in hand-to-hand or shadow weapon combat.
"My lord," the shuttle stated as it slowed to a hover just above the melee, "there is little space to land. There are too many persons scattered over the area."
Gritting his teeth, Asmodéus forced back a curse. "Can you identify the crown prince?"
"Directly below our position, my lord." The screen looked straight down on two individuals, their identities obscured by the odd angle, with the exception of two specific traits—the head of white hair on one, and the black mane on the other. The figures were close, entangled in each other's clutches.
Asmodéus' middle suddenly clenched and burned; Adam was in pain.
"We must land immediately!" the emperor commanded.
The shuttle didn't object. Even its artificial system could recognize irritation and impatience in its most important passenger. As it slipped down closer, the landing gear releasing with a hydraulic hiss that could be heard up through the cabin, Asmodéus clenched a hand beneath his ribs, anticipating the worst.
"Run a full thermal scan for life signs and make a casualty check." The shift tried to claim him, but he pushed it back, hating the helpless feeling that he could not reach his son quickly enough. The view moved over the quad, toward the western wall, where he found a familiar figure. Kieriell was there, looking back toward the eastern ground, his fists clenched, his mouth opening as though to cry out. Then Kieriell disappeared in a burst of light, and Asmodéus startled, commanding the shuttle to halt. It ceased its descent and hovered, magnifying the view further while the neural engine determined a landing perimeter. The screen located Kieriell again, and all of the Elite began to rise slowly from their seats, drawn to the scene and ultimately mesmerized.
Kieriell ran a few steps and stopped, sensing his father's pain. Adam's weight had fallen against the kai, who still kept him upright and impaled on that wretched blade.
Adam screamed again, the sound throaty and embraced with agony, then he fell silent. A new sound descended upon the quadrangle from above. Kieriell looked up to note the arrival of another Nexian vessel. He knew his grandsire was on board, but his attention darted back to his father hanging like a broken doll against the kai.
"Surely you can pull him out of there," Ahrden said as he approached Kieriell from behind.
His core-being burning, Kieriell moaned miserably, "I can't." He remembered how he had incidentally killed the little frog in the green room, how the chamberlain's final test had been a failure. He might teleport close enough to pull his father free of the kai's hooks, but then where would he go? The melee had died enough that he could cross the quad while supporting his father, but he must still deal with the kai, and supporting his father's weight would hinder them both into more danger. His mother's insistence that he would never know what he could do until he tried came to him.
"Go, Kier," he heard Jarren urge him.
His hands made fists and his torso muscles recoiled slightly as though he were about to break into a run. His father was on the verge of death either way. In the kai's arms, he reflected briefly, or in mine. He closed his eyes, concentrated, and felt himself swallowed by the light. Propelled forward at a speed unseen to the naked eye, he emerged directly behind his father's slumping body.
The kai's face bled into view through the light of the teleportation, and he cringed, drew his free hand up to shade his eyes.
The moment his body became whole, Kieriell reached forward and brought his arms up under Adam's shoulders in a tight embrace. Adam's head fell back against his chest and he heard a pale moan. Hold on, he thought, please hold on. He had yet to pull his father free of the kai's blade, but he thought ahead, realizing there was no need.
The kai started to recover, straightening and preparing to spit some word of hate as his lips drew back in a grimace, but Kieriell didn't give him the chance to speak.
Ensuring that he had a firm hold on Adam, Kieriell imagined the blade as the separate entity that it was in its attachment to the kai. He closed his eyes, willing the light of the grid to engulf him and his cargo, then at the last moment he opened his eyes and looked straight up into the kai's gaze, seeing only white glow as he had when he materialized in the garden of the manse.
He manifested back across the quad where Jarren and Ahrden jumped back in surprise at the flaring light in which the double form of father and son appeared. Adam's body ful
ly solidified first and began to slip to the ground, while Kieriell felt himself in that disturbing half state, his body shaping itself. Light still poured from him, igniting his cellular structure, his eyes two miniature stars glowing in his head.
Jarren and Ahrden were both flabbergasted, but they put themselves in check and came to Kieriell's side. Jarren helped him lay Adam out on the grass, and Kieriell saw through the white haze that a large bloodstain was rapidly spreading across the front of his father's uniform. Adam's head lolled from side to side and another pained and delirious moan escaped him.
Kieriell felt his body mold itself a little more and his throat tightened. He reached down, seeing that his hands still radiated with a softer glow, and pulled apart the front of Adam's tunic.
"Kier," Jarren whispered, pointing across the quad.
Kieriell's gaze followed the gesture toward the kai who was looking up at the shuttle hanging in the air, his face a contortion of emotions. His lips moved, voicing a curse that was swallowed by the distance and the drone of the shuttle. Then the kai looked to the gathering around Adam's body, and he started to approach, stepping over bodies, shoulders heaving.
"Kieriell Shyr'ahm!" the Shiv ruler bellowed as though he had somehow adapted a shift of his own and an angry primal creature emerged from within him.
More concerned with the state of his father, Kieriell disregarded the threatening shout and looked down as he continued to peel the fabric back from the wound. Blood seeped over Adam's abdomen. The gash had been torn upward not from his mid-section but more from his side, less in the way of vital organs. This gave Kieriell the smallest shard of comfort, while the sight of the wound itself, so bloody, alarmed him to the core. The edges of the torn skin were charred. He smelled the fresher blood flow, while at the same time there was the repulsive odor of half-cooked flesh.