by Matt King
“You’ve heard of him?” August asked.
“Tell me what you know,” Amara said absently as she began to walk toward the edge of the stage floor.
“He’s some sort of planet, a world that’s alive maybe.”
“A sentient world?” Galan scoffed. “There haven’t been any of those since before the Circle was born, if they ever existed at all.”
“They are a myth,” Anemolie snarled. “He’s lying.”
“I’m not. Paralos has one and he’s aiming it at Earth. Look into my head if you don’t believe me.”
Galan and Anemolie looked to Amara, who continued to stare at the sun shining through the arena windows.
“You know we cannot,” Amara answered. She walked back toward the group. “We have but two choices, to believe your claim or dismiss it as a lie.”
“I told you, I’m not lying.”
“I would never expect you to knowingly enter this court and lie. I believe that you believe it, which in the end means nothing.” She folded her fingers together. “How large is this planet?”
“I don’t know.”
“When will it arrive?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, frustrated. “Tomorrow night, I think.”
“You think?”
“It might be in the morning. Does it matter what time it comes? Aren’t you listening to me? Everyone on this planet will be dead.”
She didn’t react, didn’t even bat an eye. Instead, she seemed lost in thought again, looking at him without actually seeing him, as though she was working through every possibility.
“Paralos wants us off this world,” she said absently.
“No, I do,” August said. “Paralos wants you here.”
“So you’ve been led to believe. What a god knows and what a man knows are not often the same thing.”
“You believe he was sent here as part of a plot?” Galan asked.
“Yes,” she answered. “Almost certainly.”
“To what end?”
“If I may,” Polaris said. Her harmonic voice magnetized the attention of the gods. “He may be trying to fragment our forces. When confronted with superior numbers, the best course of action is to divide and conquer. By sending this human forward, he may be trading one weaker champion for a more powerful one.”
“What if it were true?” Anemolie said. She spoke to Amara instead of the cyborg. “We could stand to lose everything. Galan’s machines would be an acceptable loss, but the loss of Talus and Michael would be catastrophic. It would mean the end of you, my Lady.”
If the thought concerned her, Amara didn’t show it.
“You people,” August said. “I’m sitting here telling you that all of your champions are about to die and you’re treating it like some goddamn logic problem. You know what? To hell with your champions. I don’t care if they die. What I care about are the people down there that you’re supposedly trying to save.”
“So noble,” Galan said with a grin.
August ignored him. “I don’t give a shit whether you decide to stay or not, but you need to get these people off this planet. You know there are a million different worlds you could send them to. No one else needs to die because of your war.”
“Some do,” Amara said. She held his gaze for a moment before placing her hand on Galan’s arm. “How soon until your fleet could arrive?” she asked.
Galan’s eyes widened. “My Lady, Polaris was right. We should not give in to Paralos’s plan.”
“I don’t plan to. How long?” she asked again.
“I could leave now to gather them. They could be here before the next sunset.”
“Call to your fleet. Position them above this world. Polaris and Talus will stay here with me at the castle. Once your armada is here, I want you to take the rest of your forces and put them aboard the ships. Chart a course for a system far away from this one and be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. Find Michael when the time comes. Make him go with you. He will likely try to resist.”
“An excellent plan,” Anemolie said. “But why keep Talus here? Polaris has proven that she can handle this one and the other.”
“Perhaps you can send your champions to ensure that neither of these important assets are harmed,” Galan said. “It’s about time the Tria were useful.”
“Galan will keep a ship here,” Amara said. “In the event that this Velawrath is real, Talus and Polaris can use it for escape. If, however, this is a plot by Paralos as I suspect, I want them here to punish any that would venture into these halls.”
“What about the people?” August asked.
Amara smiled. “What happens to them largely depends on you.”
“We don’t need him,” Galan said. “He has nothing to offer. Kill him now. Let Polaris finish him once and for all.”
“He will die,” Amara replied. “But not yet. I have other plans for him first.”
“What do you want?” August asked.
“I want you to do what you’ve professed to do here today—to tell the truth.”
“I don’t understand.”
She took a step toward him. “By the morning, I will have another of my Circle here. Two if all goes well.”
Galan smirked.
“I want you to tell them the truth,” she said.
He looked between the three gods. “About what?”
“Meryn,” she replied. “I want you to tell them what happened when you were last on this world. I want you to tell them how she interfered to save your life.”
A look of understanding dawned on Anemolie’s face, bringing a smile with it. August felt sweat bead above his brow.
“Hearing your testimony, there can be no denying what happened that day. Her guilt will be on display for all who might still doubt it.”
He had come knowing that he would sacrifice himself, but he wasn’t prepared to give them Meryn’s life too. “I won’t let you kill her.”
“That is your choice, of course,” she said. “Alas, it would also be my choice to save the people of this world should Velawrath’s arrival come true.”
“You…” He couldn’t form the words. Polaris’s grip tightened on his arm. “They’ve done nothing to you. Nothing! And now you’re holding them hostage over some petty grudge.”
Amara stroked the side of his face. Her silver eyes were only inches from his. “You are mistaken, Mr. Dillon. It is not I who hold their fate in my hands. It is you. You will have to ask yourself how much your loyalty to Meryn means to you.” She turned away as soon as her finger left his face. “Polaris, please see Mr. Dillon to the holding chamber near my quarters.”
“Wait,” he said. “Please.”
Polaris pulled him away from the stage with his swords still at her side.
“He is not to be disturbed,” Amara said. “By anyone. See to it that the guards understand.”
“Of course,” Polaris said.
“You have to save them!” he called back. “This is not a game, god damn it!”
“No,” Amara replied as Polaris took him through the doors. “It is a choice.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Don’t just stand there, Johnny. You got people to look after.
Bear could hear the rasp in his father’s voice as clearly as if he were standing in front of him. He turned away from the now-empty pillars to look back at the Horsemen. They were taking inventory of the weapons on their belts, checking the spring-loaded blades before replacing them in their sheaths.
“We don’t have much time,” Bear said. The eastern sky was already a brighter shade of yellow. He didn’t know how long the sun took to rise on this planet, but judging by how quickly it had changed, they only had a few more minutes before Icomedes began his hunt. “We should make a plan.”
The brothers glanced at each other but wouldn’t look him in the eye.
There was a strange feeling of distance in the way they were acting. Bear had a sickening sense that their fragile alliance was being tes
ted—and failing.
“Boys? What’s going on?”
The Horseman across from him finished sheathing his knife. He cast a glance up at the sky and then around to each of his brothers. He gave a final look to Bear before turning and running into the bush.
Another Horseman took off in the opposite direction.
The realization of what was happening rooted Bear in place, stunned into silence. He looked pleadingly at the remaining two. “Don’t do this.”
They wouldn’t meet his stare. Instead, they turned their backs to each other and disappeared into the vines of the jungle, running in separate directions.
“Wait!” Bear followed the nearest one into the brush. He kept up with him for a while until the vines got too thick for him to see where he was going. Despite running full speed, the brother barely made a sound. Bear stopped to listen for footsteps. There was nothing.
He turned in a slow circle, hoping to catch some sign of movement again. Above him, the sky was a bright shade of yellow behind the thin clouds. The air was already getting hotter.
Think of something. You can’t just stand here.
On instinct, he triggered his mask. The world felt a little clearer looking through the glass of the visor. It muted the ambient noise of the jungle some, settling his nerves in the process. Things felt more focused and crisp.
Behind him, a call rang through the sky—a ragged scream, powerful and angry. It was answered by more calls coming from all sides of him.
The hunt was on.
He ducked under the canopy of a tree and backed himself into a growth of bushes, hoping that the wide leaves would keep him hidden from anything circling above. As soon as he wedged himself under the branches, a smell like rotting meat rushed from the flowers. The bush must’ve released some kind of pollen when he jostled it. He ran out from cover, his nose burning from the stench. A cloud of red pollen followed him.
That’ll mark me, he thought, and he suddenly began to eye every bush with a paranoid stare. He was a rabbit left unprotected against the hawks circling above with a giant red sign on him saying, Here I am, ready to be skewered.
A long ridgeline covered in a carpet of green rose above stalks of a plant that looked like bamboo. The bottom of the ridge looked to be about a half mile away. He stood in place for a second, not knowing what kind of trail he’d leave behind if he ran through, and then decided to risk it. He sped off across the spongy floor of the brush, ducking to keep his head from showing above the tops of the plants. He didn’t look back, keeping his eyes to the sky instead. If he was leaving a trail of red mist in his wake the attack would come from above, not behind.
Through a break in the maze of jungle he saw the ground start to climb ahead of him. He picked out a path that would take him to the first row of gnarled trees that covered the rising mountain.
A shot from above rocked his shoulder before he ever heard the blast. Part of the red streak of light traveled past him to singe the leaves at his feet. When he turned around, he saw a distorted blur speeding toward him. The leaves swept to either side as one of the cloaked Ysir came crashing toward him, firing a spray of red gunfire that pelted the outer shell of Bear’s armor. The shots burned, but didn’t break through. He put up his arm to block the camouflaged shape swinging toward him. Something that sounded like metal clanged against his gauntlet. He held it at bay as the Ysir tried to push his sword through.
Bear threw himself forward, hoping to grab hold of the creature, but the hazy figure flew sideways and then up into the sky. The sun was too bright overhead to track the man. A spray of red gunfire rained down, opening a hole in the ground that swallowed Bear’s leg. In an instant, he was falling through a sinkhole as the carpet of loose dirt and vines disintegrated.
His shoulder slammed into something hard before he landed on his back with a splash. Above him, streaks of light shone through a steady rain of falling dirt. His hands slipped in mud as he scrambled to get to his feet. He looked around, seeing nothing but a tangle of crooked roots leading into darkness. A layer of stagnant water covered his feet.
There wasn’t a shadow dark enough to make him feel safe outside the small circle of light shining on the floor. He backed into the darkness as much as he could and retracted his mask, remembering that the light from his visor might give away his position.
As soon as his mask retracted, the Ysir landed inside the hollowed cavity with a splash of muddy water. The sludge flowed down the cloaked hunter’s leg until it showed nothing but his footprints in the floor. Bear held his breath as he watched the Ysir move slightly, the air around him distorting in small blurs with each movement.
The hunter stepped to his right, moving diagonal to Bear’s position. As soon as he moved into the darkness, Bear lost sight of the tracks. He breathed through his nose in tiny sips, afraid that even the slightest noise might give him away.
A fan of gunfire streaked out of the shadows. Bear winced as a shot ricocheted off his chest. Any higher and it would have sliced through his exposed neck.
The echoes of footsteps stopped. Bear held his breath. The Ysir doubled back, seemingly homed in on his position.
He tensed himself for a fight when the footsteps suddenly stopped again. His ears rang from tension. He could smell the Ysir near him, a burnt musky odor. The man’s breathing sounded like a rumbling growl. Though it was dark, Bear thought he could sense where the alien stood. He was within arm’s length. If he was fast enough…
The Ysir swirled in place as Bear made his move, but the hunter wasn’t fast enough. Bear gripped his arm. He dragged him into the light and swung him toward the thick root of a tree, connecting with a satisfying wet thud. He held on, not wanting to let the hunter slip away. The cloaking device blinked, giving him a brief look at the man. He had him by the left arm, just above the elbow. Near the man’s hands, the barrel of a gun extended over his wrist. The hunter tried to bring his other hand across to fire.
Bear leaned out of the way and then came back to grab the crisscrossing metal band covering the Ysir’s chest. It had to have the cloaking device in it. There was nowhere else on the man’s armor thick enough to house it. He curled his fingers around the band and pulled, sending off a spray of white sparks.
No longer hidden in camouflage, the Ysir thrashed, trying to get away. Bear held on tight. He drew the man up and launched a punch across the side of his jaw that shattered the bone. The Ysir crumbled in his grip. Bear took him by the leg and swung him against the thick root again. The hunter’s back snapped, folding at a right angle.
Bear stood over him, panting. He let go of the leg. It splashed into the water.
When the haze of the fight lifted, he took the Ysir by his lifeless wings and tossed him into the darkness, away from view. The body landed with a dull splash. Bear triggered his mask and walked backward until he was hidden in the shadows again. He couldn’t take his eyes off the corpse.
He’s never going to take a breath again. I’ve killed a man.
The words echoed in his head until some part of him began to piece the fight together again. This was a hunter, someone who was sent to kill him, same as the machines he’d fought on Galan’s world. So why did he feel like the one who’d done something wrong?
Maybe because Shadow was the one who’d always done the killing.
He fought past the thoughts and pushed farther into the underground cavern. The light from his glowing eyes allowed him only a few feet of visibility. He decided to push ahead until he was forced to do otherwise. Staying underground was the best defense he had.
He fumbled through the darkness until the water started to rise above his knees. When he looked back, he couldn’t see the light anymore, not that he could find it if he wanted to. The pathway through the maze of roots left him with no sense of where he was.
When the water reached his chest, he climbed onto the roots until his head touched the dirt roof above him. He figured he was far enough away—maybe even close to the ridge—so that anyone
surveying the sinkhole he’d fallen through wouldn’t see him emerge. He pressed against the underside of the dirt ceiling. It flexed at his touch. Grabbing hold of a tree root, he pulled until the ground collapsed in a narrow hole just big enough for him to fit through.
He took a cautious look around before climbing out of the hole. The forest was only a few steps away. As soon as he was on the surface again, he ran for the cover of the trees blanketing the mountainside. The ridge rose quickly, making it harder for him to gain ground. He pulled himself along using the trees to help him climb. Through the tangle of branches, he spied a small rock formation near the top of the mountain, closer to the end of the ridge. He started for it, hoping that he could use the view to spot Icomedes or the rest of the hunters circling in the sky.
And then what? Maybe the answer didn’t matter. Maybe he just needed to feel like he had something solid at his back so he could see the attacks coming.
He made it to the edge of the rock overhang just as the sun was at its highest point in the sky. He stayed under the protection of the tree canopy, afraid to venture out on the ledge. From his vantage point, he could only see a third of the island below. The jungle was quiet.
He checked the clouds. The wind had thinned them out, leaving behind a pale yellow sky washed by the sun. There was no sign of Icomedes or the Ysir. Maybe I can step out for a quick look.
Inch by inch, he edged onto the rock’s surface, keeping a wary eye on the sky. He froze when he saw a dark shape gliding on the northern side of the island. Icomedes circled and then disappeared over a mountain, out of Bear’s sight.
He let out a sigh of relief.
In a flash, a Ysir materialized in front of him, perched on the rock with his hand on the trigger to his cloaking device. Bear was too surprised to dodge the hand that rushed forward to grab him by the leg. The Ysir took flight, carrying Bear upside down. The island rushed by below him. The hunter called out, taking Bear higher until they were speeding toward the gnarled tip of a pillar. Bear lost consciousness for a brief second after the hunter slammed his head into the pillar’s crusted shell. When he came to, he was being thrown through the air. Another Ysir caught him by the leg.