“I’ll do it,” an emotionless unfamiliar voice said from behind them.
A young man—he could not have been more than seventeen or eighteen—stood there, wearing fitted black clothing and soft black boots. Several sizes of daggers adorned his belt, and a set of throwing knives was strapped to his right arm. He carried nothing else.
“Go,” Rias said, hefting his jar.
If the boy’s appearance surprised him half as much as it did Tikaya, he did not show it. She lifted a hand, intending to protest sending someone so young on a suicide mission, but the youth had already jogged from concealment.
Two beams lanced toward his chest, but he anticipated the attack and dove, rolling beneath the cubes. They rotated to target him. This time he jumped to avoid the shots. Next, the mechanical assailants teamed up, showing a disquieting ability to work together. They tried to surround him, but the youth proved too quick. He darted away, keeping both cubes to one side of him.
“If I get killed,” Rias said to Tikaya, “get the jar and finish them. It’s an acid, so don’t let any of the liquid touch your skin.”
Before she could say how little she thought of his get-killed option, he left. Tikaya nocked an arrow. The bow might not do damage, but perhaps it would help distract the cubes. Though the boy was doing a good job of that on his own. He dodged, darted, jumped, and rolled with the fluid ease of a well-trained natural athlete. Who was this ally who had shown up just in time to help? Even when a beam washed the floor inches from him, his face held no expression, though the intensity of his dark eyes promised nothing would break his focus.
Rias neared the closest cube, keeping its backside toward him. Tikaya fired at it. The arrow clanged off, and the cracked head clattered to the floor. Despite the distractions, the cube somehow sensed Rias’ approach. It rotated toward him.
He flung some of the liquid and dodged just before the beam struck. Red smoke fumes plagued the air. The second cube remained focused on the youth who led it around columns and over lab stations. Rias zigzagged back to a column adjacent to Tikaya’s with the tagged cube shooting after him. Smoke drifted from its surface, and the corrosive liquid burned through the casing.
“What is that stuff?” Tikaya asked, shifting to keep the column between her and the cube as it approached.
“A variation on royal water,” Rias said. “The black metal is particularly susceptible to it. We were trapped in a room with all sorts of chemicals, and I tried several things last time. I couldn’t read any of the labels, and I’m lucky I didn’t kill myself. It took too long, though. A lot of men died before I figured it out.”
The smoke thickened, inflicting the air with an acrid tang. It was nothing like the scent of burning wood or coal or anything else Tikaya had ever smelled. Before the cube reached them, it ground to a halt, then plummeted to the floor, innards exposed.
“Next.” Rias headed toward the gunfire and shouts in the rear of the huge lab. “We lost ten men to these things last time. We have to hurry.”
“Shouldn’t we get the one attacking the boy first?” Tikaya asked.
“He’s the last one who needs to be rescued.”
They ran through the aisles toward the chaos. When they passed the spot where they had killed the creatures, there was no sign of the remains, not even a blood stain on the floor. The corpse of the marine was gone too.
Rias picked an aisle parallel to the gunfire and shouts of Bocrest’s squad. He jumped, caught the edge of a counter, and pulled himself to the top of a lab station. He knelt, his jar poised to pour when the mechanical assailant came into range.
Tikaya thought to wait on the floor, but the youth came into their aisle from the other end. His cube sailed in a few seconds later. Tikaya tossed her bow up, then climbed to Rias’s side, hoping to avoid the path of fire.
“Admiral,” the youth said as he ran past.
Tikaya blinked, almost as shocked at the calmness of the boy’s voice as the fact that he knew who Rias was. Rias leaned over, prepared to pour his concoction on the cube following the young man. It seemed to detect the trap, for it slowed several paces back. Its glowing orifice rotated up, toward Rias and Tikaya.
“Rust,” he muttered and prepared to jump.
“Wait.” Tikaya jabbed the tip of an arrow into his jar, nocked it, and fired. The dripping missile spun into the red hole. A flash later, a beam incinerated the arrow. The cube floated closer.
“Double rust,” Tikaya said.
“It was a good idea,” Rias said.
They crouched to jump down into the aisle behind, but the cube slowed, then halted. Smoke wafted from the beam hole. The cube sputtered and thunked to the ground.
“It was a good idea.” Rias clapped Tikaya on the shoulder and gave her an appreciative smile that warmed her soul, despite the dire situation.
Enemy of the islands, she reminded herself. She was not supposed to be pleased by his compliments anymore.
“Think you can hit that target again to help these men?” Rias pointed to the marines scrambling in the other aisle. They were so busy dodging beams of a cube in their midst they had lost their usual cohesiveness. Every man was busy trying to stay alive. “Make it quick, though,” Rias added. “The acid will eat away your arrowheads.”
Tikaya waited until the orifice faced her before dipping into his jar. Her shot flew true and made short work of the remaining cubes.
The relieved party met in the open area before the stairs. Tikaya picked up one of the mostly intact cubes so she could work on translating the writing.
Bocrest counted heads and scowled at the loss of two men and injuries of several others. He glowered at Rias. “Why didn’t you tell me you had something to battle them with?”
“You didn’t give me a chance,” Rias said.
“We had to act quickly, and you were digging around in your gear. If you want to override my orders, you need to give me a reason for doing so. Fast. You don’t have the right to make decisions and keep the reasons to your…” Bocrest gaped as the youth stepped out of the shadows to join them.
He was smaller than many of the big marines, standing only an inch taller than Tikaya, but, after seeing his grace in evading the beams, she doubted he lost many fights.
His dark-eyed gaze pinned Bocrest. “Admiral Starcrest is giving orders?”
He had short blond hair, a color unusual for a Turgonian, but he did have the olive skin, and he sounded like a native speaker. From the dialect, Tikaya guessed he came from one of the satrapies around the capital. When her gaze fell on the throwing knives on his forearm, she realized he was the one who had killed the creature chasing her earlier. Where had he come from?
“I…uhm…” Bocrest noticed his men watching him—they seemed as confused by the young man’s appearance as Tikaya—and straightened, lifting his chin. “Given his helpfulness thus far on the mission, and his familiarity with these tunnels, I deemed it wise to listen to him. I am aware of the emperor’s wishes for him, and they will be complied with in the end.”
“I see,” the young man said, voice cool.
Bocrest shifted uncomfortably under that steady gaze. His men murmured to each other, surprised at their blustery captain’s deference.
“What are you all looking at?” Bocrest barked. “Let’s get the wounded patched up and set up a camp. And for the emperor’s sake, someone figure out where in this blasted maze a man is supposed to piss and drop cannon balls.”
The marines scurried off to do his bidding. The youth produced a small sealed envelope and handed it to Bocrest, who accepted it and walked away to read the message.
Tikaya edged closer to Rias. “I’m perplexed. Who is this boy?”
“That is Sicarius, the emperor’s personal assassin.”
Rias’s voice was low, for her only, but the young man looked at them, as if aware of their discussion.
“Is he as young as he looks?” Tikaya asked even as she wondered why he was there. Why had he not traveled with Bocrest
from the beginning if he meant to help the captain accomplish his mission? Her eyes widened. Could he be the one responsible for the tortured men?
“I believe he was fifteen when I met him two years ago,” Rias said. “He smashed my face into the deck and held a knife to my throat.”
Tikaya stared at Rias. “Did he catch you by surprise?”
“No. As I recall, I was trying to catch him by surprise.”
“Why? What happened?” She frowned, wondering why the emperor would send his assassin to harass his star fleet admiral. Something to do with Rias’s reasons for ending up in exile? She tried to read his eyes.
He opened his mouth, but he shut it again and shook his head. “No, I fear you’d suspect my motives if I told you the story.”
“Suspect your…” She scowled at him. Now what was he hiding? “I suspect your motives in not telling me.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you so elusive about these things?” Her throat tightened. Now that she knew who he was and that she could have no future with him, his choice to keep things from her should not hurt, but it did. “Afraid to share imperial secrets with the enemy?”
She clutched the cube to her chest and stalked toward the lab stations, intending to find some nook where she could be alone to study the language.
“Tikaya…” Rias said.
“Stuff an apple core up it, Admiral Starcrest.”
She caught the boy assassin watching, and almost snapped at him too, but the dark impassive gaze stole the heat from her ire and left her chilled. She stalked by without comment.
Several marines sniggered behind her back. Cheeks flushed, Tikaya slipped into the aisles, glad for the concealment.
CHAPTER 16
Few runes adorned the cube, and it did not take Tikaya long to translate them. Automatic cleaning machine. She could have laughed if not for the unsettling realization that the people who created this place had considered human beings something to be incinerated to keep the labs tidy.
With that mystery solved, she itched to work on the next. Weariness plagued her body, and probably would for days in the aftermath of the poisoning, but her mind churned, so she could not think of sleep yet. There was so much to study.
She wished she had Lancecrest’s journal, but she would have to return to her gear to grab it, and she did not want to face Rias or the snickering marines. Instead, she explored the back half of the lab. Most of the finds were innocuous—alchemical liquids and powders, equipment and containers—but others were as disturbing as the bones that had scattered when the beast fell. The human organs sealed in jars and slides with blood samples made her wonder if the race who had created this place had come for the distinct purpose of experimenting on people. But, if so, to what end?
She probably should have been horrified by her discoveries, but the labels on the identifiable substances helped her resolve new nouns, and that kept her too busy for squeamishness. A few days wandering this place and she would have an impressive dictionary. If the marines gave her time.
Agarik rounded the corner and approached, his rifle crooked in his arms. He quirked an eyebrow at the rows of open cabinets in her wake.
“Exploring?”
“Yes, this place is perfect. If I had a few weeks here, I bet I could decipher the whole language. Or the science aspects, at least. Of course, this entire language seems to revolve around science and mathematics. I keep wondering who these people were, what happened to them. Where could such an advanced civilization—”
He was frowning, so she stopped.
“Problem?” Tikaya asked.
“No. Yes. I don’t know. We’ve lost so many men out here. Your enthusiasm for such a deadly place is… Well, I can’t share it.”
“But don’t you see? Everything here is labeled. If I can learn how to read it all, this place won’t be deadly. We’re bumbling into things. Those cubes, they’re the maids. Not some malicious security system, a cleaning device to take care of messes in the labs.”
“And the poison rockets,” Agarik said. “Are they also not malicious if only you know the words? And the gas that twisted our minds in Wolfhump? Was that not malicious?”
The sobering words squelched her enthusiasm. He was right. It was very likely this place had been created, at least in part, to build weapons. Weapons far deadlier, and ghastlier, than anything humanity currently knew.
Agarik sighed at the expression on her face. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to judge. Besides you’re not the only one fascinated with the place.”
“Oh, what’s Rias doing?” Tikaya asked, certain of her guess.
“He’s taking apart one of the boxes.”
“Figures.”
“Uhm, about him…” Agarik watched her, and she had a hunch he had brought up Rias to gauge her reaction.
“Did he send you over to talk to me?”
Agarik’s head shake did not surprise her. Tikaya had a hard time imagining Rias sending a minion—or admirer—off to solve problems for him. No, he would likely suffer in silence.
“No, ma’am. He, ah…” Agarik set the butt of his rifle on the floor and polished a smudge on the barrel. “He forbade me from bothering you.”
“Oh? And you’re going to disobey your boyhood hero?”
“If there’s a chance of fixing things, yes.” Agarik blew out a long breath. “I got the story about the assassin, if you want to hear it. I think it might influence your feelings for Rias.”
Though curious about the story, she hesitated to ask for it. Now that she knew Rias was safe, she needed to put aside her ‘feelings’ for him, figure out how to thwart the weapons-acquisition mission, find a way home, and warn her family they were in danger. She could not bring herself to send Agarik away, though. “Is that actually what he calls himself?”
“What?”
“Rias. I thought it might be something he made up because he didn’t want to tell me his real name.”
“He told me to use it. He goes by Federias and said his friends have always shortened it. Apparently, he’s never liked his first name. Got teased about it as a boy and told it was girly.” Agarik grinned, probably delighted to have been trusted with this secret information.
“Does ‘the story’ explain his exile?” she asked. “Why he was stripped of everything and declared dead?”
“Yes.”
She nodded for him to continue.
“He says he did recommend the Kyatt Islands as the place for a strategic outpost, on account of its location right in the center of the sea between Turgonia and Nuria, but he wasn’t planning on bloodshed. I don’t know if you remember, but a couple of imperial ironclads showed up in your harbor a few years ago. He went in with a diplomat to talk to your president.”
Despite her resolution to put aside feelings for him, a flutter went through her stomach. To think that Rias had been so close years before. She had been working at the Polytechnic then, and she remembered the hubbub around those ships arriving. If she had looked out the window at the right time, might she have seen Rias striding along the docks, straight and proud in a dress uniform, flanked by dozens of men who respected him?
“They offered your people entry into the empire as an imperial territory and protection from the Nurians in exchange. Your president said no. They negotiated, tried to get the right to build a naval base on one of your islands. Your president was adamant that your people would remain neutral, and he denied it all. The emperor was not pleased. He ordered Kyatt be conquered, and you know what happened after that.”
“Yes.” All too well.
“Rias was busy managing the entire Northern Eerathu Theater, and the skirmishes with your people were just a tack on his busy map, but he says he was impressed with your president’s backbone and how hard your people fought, especially considering the odds were all against them. The emperor was more annoyed than impressed. Particularly so after you started decoding messages and sending them to the Nurians.”
“I’ll bet,” Tikaya murmured.
“The emperor sent this Sicarius out to Rias’s flagship with orders—and don’t irk that fellow, by the way; he’s apparently been groomed from birth to be the throne’s assassin. All Rias was supposed to do was take his vessel into port and let Sicarius kill your president and his advisors.”
Tikaya stood statue still. She did not remember any personal attack on the president.
“Rias was angry that the emperor even had an assassin. We’ve always been an honorable warrior people, and sneak attacks are considered cowardly.”
“What’d he do?”
“He refused to take the assassin to your island and, when he learned Sicarius was trying to make other arrangements to get there, Rias tried to incapacitate him.”
That explained his earlier comment about attacking Sicarius.
“It didn’t work,” Agarik said. “Fortunately, Sicarius was loyal enough to the emperor not to take it into his own hands to kill a fleet admiral. Rias had time to send warning to your president and describe the assassin so your people could watch for him—that’s a part of the story you could verify when you get home, I imagine.”
A spark of hope kindled. If the president knew Rias had tried to help him, maybe it would make a difference someday if…
Tikaya shook her head. Was she truly still thinking of bringing him home?
“Sicarius took word back to the capital,” Agarik continued, “and the emperor about shi—, er, he was livid at Rias’s disobedience. He stripped him of his name, his rank, his ancestral lands, everything, and ordered him taken to Krychek Island. The story passed around is that Rias was assassinated by Nurians.”
“Why the story?” Tikaya wondered. “Why tell everyone he was dead?”
“He’s a hero to our people and well-liked. He had scads of loyal men who would have made rescue attempts if they knew he was alive.”
“Then why not actually kill him?” Could the emperor have known he would need Rias again?
“My guess,” Agarik said, “is the emperor wanted his best military strategist somewhere he could get to him again if needed. Though that’s quite a gamble.”
Forgotten Ages (The Complete Series) Page 23