“You should follow your own rules,” I say with a smirk. “The way you argued with Deltoch—”
“Was stupid.” He grins that grin, ear to ear.
“Let’s go then.” I say. “I’m ready to do this.”
More Mogs run by, and then suddenly the hallways are teeming with soldiers. Some of them are yelling, but I can’t make out what they’re saying—the noise echoing off the stone walls and floor turns everything into a roar of sound.
“What the hell is going on?” Ethan shouts.
And then there’s an explosion somewhere inside the base, and everything goes insane.
CHAPTER SIX
AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL, A WALL OF FIRE blows past, and I instinctively push against it with my telekinesis to try to keep the flames from engulfing me, Ethan and the Mogs rushing through the hallway. Either I’m successful or the fire was already going to pass us by—whatever the case, we remain unscathed.
The same can’t be said for the people in the adjoining hallway.
Has there been a prisoner uprising? Did our Beloved Leader’s ship crash into the mountain? Or could this just be some sort of horrific accident?
The steady sound of gunfire from somewhere in the compound counts these last two possibilities out.
We’re under attack.
“We should take cover,” Ethan says. “We can retreat deeper into the mountain.”
I pause. My ceremony has been ruined. Everything I’ve been working towards has been crapped on by whatever’s happening in the compound right now.
I won’t let that happen. This is my chance to show the Mogs what I’m made of. That I really am worthy to lead them. Screw killing a single Garde—I’ll take out whatever army is attacking us with a wave of telekinetic power. Setrákus Ra might even see me in action. Hell, I might be able to fight alongside him.
“No,” I shout to Ethan over the noise of weapons and yelling and boots hitting the ground. “I’ll fight. You take cover.”
Ethan starts to argue, but I’m already tossing my ceremonial uniform to the ground and running down the corridor, my hand reaching into my right pocket to touch the steel ball bearing. My skin takes on a metallic sheen, and my footfalls get heavier—I could fly, but I don’t want to be a floating target for whoever it is that’s managed to infiltrate the base.
I’m steps into the next corridor when a wave of hot air hits me, heavy with the scent of char. It’s hard to see through all the smoke and ash, but then I realize where that smoke and ash has come from. The Mogs in this hallway must have been completely annihilated. Whoever’s attacked us isn’t pulling any punches and is obviously trying to inflict as much damage as possible.
I follow the shouts and gunfire as I jog through the tunnels, but the combination of my metal form and my being used to flying everywhere keeps my pace pretty slow. By the time I make it to the vast main room, it’s easy to see the route the intruders have taken; there are piles upon piles of ash strewn about the big hall. The space has devolved into utter chaos as the injured cry for help and the monstrous beasts that have escaped from their pens trample Mog soldiers who’ve been caught completely by surprise. I pause to try to figure out which direction the attackers went, then realize that there’s an easier way than trying to follow the ash trails: there are tons of pikens running, crawling, and flying towards one side of the compound, chasing something. So I fall in alongside them, rushing towards the detention cells.
Detention cells. Is this some kind of rescue attempt?
I take a chance and fly up to the corridor that leads to the cells. I think I hear someone shouting my name behind me, but when I look back, it’s just a mass of feathers as birdlike creatures flap past me. So I continue on, and there, turning a corner at the end of the detention hallway, is Nine, followed by someone I’ve seen before. Someone I recognize from Mog reports about the incidents in Paradise.
Number Four.
The two Garde run out of view, and there’s a distant rumble of rock cracking and falling. I clench my fists at my sides. Of course they’ve screwed everything up. I spent years—years—on a deserted island without so much as a hello from any other Loric, but I come to the one place the Loric should be steering clear of—the home base of their sworn enemies—and I meet two of them.
A part of me wonders if they know I’m here. If they know what today meant for me. And if they’ve ruined all of it on purpose, as one final joke on pitiful Number Five, who they all thought would rot on a beach somewhere.
There’s a squad of Mogs reaching the top of the stairs to my right. They run after me as I jet through the hallway, but the path Nine and Four disappeared down is now blocked, collapsed in on itself—no doubt due to Four’s or Nine’s Legacies. My mind races as I try to remember other ways that the tunnels connect and where we might head them off. Behind me, a dozen or so Mogs from all over the compound regroup. I listen to their conversations as I try to figure out my next move. They’ve managed to capture one of the intruders. He’s a human. A teenager. Reports are that Four is the only other assailant, not counting Nine.
The prisoners.
I turn to the Mogs and immediately start barking orders. This is my time to shine.
“You three,” I say, waving to a small huddle of soldiers. “Find any other escaped prisoners. The rest of you, come with me. We’re going to cut the intruders off at the pass.”
There’s hesitancy in their faces.
“Look around you,” I continue. “We are under attack, and I am the only person even close to being a commander in sight. If you don’t move immediately, you’ll be answering to our Beloved Leader for your treason when he arrives.”
They all nod to me at once. Several salute.
Ethan approaches from the corridor. He’s out of breath but looks pleased with what I’m doing. As the Mogs move out, he tosses me an earpiece communicator, pointing to another one in his ear.
“In case we get separated,” he says.
“I thought you were going to take cover.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “I want to see if all that training has paid off.”
I grin and then shoot through the air over the heads of the Mog soldiers.
“This way!” I shout. “We can’t let these Loric bastards escape!”
A few of the tunnels we go through have partially collapsed from whatever it is Nine and Four are doing, but it’s no matter. The adrenaline in my system sends my Legacies into overload. I’m moving boulders left and right and jetting through the tunnels. The Mogs do their best to catch up to me, but I’m moving too quickly for them. I shoot from corridor to corridor, my mind trying desperately to remember, from my downtime spent exploring, how these passageways all fit together, until I come to a fork in the tunnels that I don’t remember. Time is of the essence. If we’re going to stop Four and Nine, I have to take action.
But I don’t know where to go.
My troops start to catch up behind me. I split their ranks down the middle with one hand as I float in front of them.
“Half of you that way, the other half follow me. As fast as you can. They can’t be far ahead of us now.”
They don’t hesitate this time—just charge onward. Ethan follows the other group, again tapping on his earpiece. I know he’ll alert me if they come across anything on their side.
And of course, that’s what happens a few minutes later.
“We’ve spotted them,” Ethan’s voice crackles in my ear. “They’re headed for a bridge. We’re going to try to cut them down.”
“Shit,” I mutter. I halt the Mogs who followed me. We race back around, into the other tunnel. The sound of Mog weapons firing bounces off the corridor walls. We’re almost to the bridge when I hear Ethan screaming in my ear in a way I’ve never heard before: primal and full of pain.
I speed forward until I think I may go supersonic. When I fly out into the cavern where the bridge is, it’s a madhouse. Half the team I sent has been reduced to ash. The other half
is missing limbs or is in other ways wounded by the acidic green lava that pools under the bridge. Nine or Four must have used their powers to somehow turn it into a weapon. I feel stupid for never realizing what powerful offensive capabilities the lava could have when paired with my telekinesis.
But I forget about all of that when I see Ethan. He’s staring at his right hand. Or, rather, the place where his right hand should be. Now it’s just a stump, charred and cauterized by the green ooze. He looks up at me, one eye wide and full of desperation. The other is hidden by a smoking patch of green gunk. Then his good eye rolls back in his head and his legs give out, and he’s falling back, plummeting towards the lake of deadly green sludge below.
“No!” I shout, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m flying after him, diving and catching him right before he hits the surface of the bubbling green lake.
I float back up to the bridge with Ethan’s body in my arms. He’s still breathing, at least. Maybe he’s in shock. The Mogs from my half of the group stare at me, awaiting orders.
“Why are you standing there?” I shout. “Go get them.”
And then they’re off over the bridge and into the tunnels after Four and Nine. I should be going with them. But I can’t leave Ethan behind like this.
I fly us both back through the tunnels the way we came. Towards the central hall, where there’s a med lab that’s probably swarming with injured Mogs already.
It’s in the grand hall that I see him. He’s tall—maybe eight feet. It’s hard to tell exactly from my place floating above him. The surviving Mogs back away from him, bowing. His hair is short and black. His skin is pale. Something about his face reminds me of a gargoyle—maybe it’s the grayish tint to his skin or the way his sharp teeth are bared behind dark, snarling lips. He’s got a thick purple scar on his neck. Three pendants shine on his chest.
“Our Beloved Leader,” I whisper.
He turns his head, and his eyes bore into me. He raises one hand. There’s a crackle of blue across my vision, and then suddenly I’m falling, rapidly. My Legacies aren’t working. All I can do is hold on to Ethan and try to position him so that I take the brunt of the fall.
I hear my head bounce off the stone floor the second before everything goes black.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I WAKE UP IN MY BEDROOM STILL WEARING MY dirty clothes from the attack. There’s blood on me, but I don’t know who it belonged to. For a second, I think I might have dreamed the whole thing, but one touch to the sore lump on the back of my head proves otherwise. I glance at the clock. It’s a little after noon, but I have no idea if I’ve been out for hours or days. It takes me a few minutes to put my thoughts in order and realize two things: I don’t know what happened to Ethan, and Setrákus Ra is here.
Before I can even begin to make sense of it all, a Mog scout enters my room.
“Our Beloved Leader will see you now,” he says. I wonder how he knew I’d woken up, but of course there must be cameras somewhere in my room. The Mogs are always watching.
“Ethan,” I say. My head aches as I speak, shock waves radiating from the lump on my skull.
“Our Beloved Leader will explain everything,” the Mog says. “But I wouldn’t keep him waiting if I were you. He’s in Central Command.”
I suddenly remember how I got the injury on the back of my head. I fly off the bed and float in the air while at the same time using my telekinesis to clear the top of a dresser in my room.
Well, at least my powers are back. But what did our Beloved Leader do to me that caused me to fall?
I don’t waste any more time as I jet through the hallways towards the room where Setrákus Ra awaits. My thoughts are tinged with worry. What exactly happened at the base? Did Nine and Four manage to escape? How is Ethan?
And what of my place in the Mog ranks?
I half expect a gloom of mourning or depression to be cast over the compound because of all the casualties we suffered—they had to be in the hundreds, at least. But it’s as though nothing has changed apart from the scorched walls and destroyed doorframes in some of the hallways. My side of the compound doesn’t seem to have any cave-ins, at least, though I don’t know how the rest of the place fared with Four and Nine ripping through it. The Mogs go about their jobs dutifully, nodding to me or saluting as I pass. Some are fixing the things that were damaged in the assault; others are cleaning up the ash that litters the corners and floors. Sweeping up their dead.
Two soldiers move out of the way as I approach the base’s Central Command room. I burst through the doors, and for a moment everyone inside freezes. There are several commanders all standing in front of digital tabletops displaying three-dimensional maps. On huge screens around the room, news reports, security footage and various other videos and images are displayed. Several humans in dark suits stand at the consoles, pointing at files they bring up on the screens. They’re comparing photos of Four and Nine escaping to a few candid shots of people in restaurants and gas stations.
And in the center of it all is the single most powerful person in the galaxy. Setrákus Ra, our Beloved Leader and the Mogadorian ruler who will lead his people to continued prosperity. He leans on a gold staff with a black orb in its handle. His sheer physical presence is staggering, but there’s something else about him that intimidates me. When he looks at me, it’s as if he’s assessed my every flaw and has passed judgment on me before I’ve even said a word. I wish I could tell what his verdict is.
I bow to him. I don’t know what else to do.
“It is an honor, my Beloved Leader,” I say.
He simply stares at me. Everyone remains quiet as all eyes drift to him, wondering what his response will be.
“Clear the room,” he bellows, and before I know it, it’s only the two of us and the slight hum of computers and electronics.
He motions to a big chair in the center of the room—one that looks like it’s reserved for the person in charge—as he walks towards one of the computer terminals.
“Have a seat,” he says.
I do, because his orders are the only ones that matter. Somehow I manage not to ask a thousand questions as I wait for him to speak. He takes his time, studying a monitor with Four’s photo on it.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he finally asks.
“What?” I don’t know what he’s talking about. All I feel is a pulsing pain in my head and nagging confusion in my mind.
He turns to me and grins, showing off his pointy teeth. His hand waves, and my chair spins a little, turning a full 360 degrees until I face him again.
“Being in the seat of power. It suits you. You look comfortable in it.”
I stare at him as a few seconds tick by, trying to soak in what he’s just said to me. Our Beloved Leader thinks I look comfortable with power.
“Thank you,” I finally manage to say.
There are so many questions shooting through my brain that I don’t even know what to ask first. How did the Garde manage to attack us? Where is Ethan? What does this mean for my future? And so I try to ask one question that will encompass all of them.
“What happened?”
Setrákus Ra pauses briefly, allowing a small grimace before he launches into his explanation.
“Number Four,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “It appears that he and a human conspirator were able to sneak into this compound. Our best guess after reviewing security footage is that they were able to use a Legacy to make themselves invisible during their infiltration. They stole a few items we had in lockup—slaying several pikens in the process—and then proceeded to slaughter countless Mogadorian soldiers, scouts and trainees as they made their way across the compound to the detention cells. They killed without discretion. Many of our visiting guests were murdered.”
I swallow hard as I think of the elegant women and young-looking Mogs I’d seen passing through the main hall before everything went nuts. They were in the compound for the ceremony. I was the reason they were here.
I nod. “I led a small group of Mogs. We tried to stop them.”
“And what happened then?”
“The tunnels were blocked, so I chased them through an alternate route. Eventually we had to split up, and the group I wasn’t leading found them. By the time I got there, most of that team had been annihilated.”
“And?” Setrákus Ra asks.
“Ethan was still alive. He fell. I caught him and brought him back to the main hall. Where I saw you. And you . . .” I shake my head, touching the back of my skull. “I fell. What happened to me? What happened to Ethan?”
“Your Legacies are gifts that can be taken away by those with the power to do so. I blocked your use of them in the chaos because we were unsure of what was happening.”
“You can just cancel out my abilities?” I ask. This seems impossible—losing my powers is a nightmare I’ve never even imagined.
“It is within my ability,” Setrákus Ra says. “There’s little that is not.”
Without my Legacies, I am as normal as a human. Even if I’m not from Earth.
Do the Garde know about this? Did Rey? Or was this some cosmic joke we were all supposed to find out about as we got our asses kicked? I almost laugh at the idea of the Garde, confident in their superpowers, discovering that their enemy can strip them of their abilities with little more than a wave of his hand.
“And Ethan?” I ask again.
Setrákus Ra begins to pace around the room. My chair turns so that I am always facing him. He must be using some kind of telekinetic ability to twist it. I wonder what other powers our Beloved Leader can command. Are there any limits to what he can do? He’s conquered planets. My Legacies, while powerful, are probably nothing compared to the scope of his talents.
His pace is slow as he walks. I stay silent. Finally, he stops in front of a computer terminal. He pushes a few buttons, and Ethan’s face shows up on one of the screens. Setrákus Ra turns back to me, a scowl on his face.
[Lorien Legacies 04.95] The Lost Files: Five's Betrayal Page 5