And his creature stalked towards them.
12
Kyra advanced into the auditorium, every muscle taut.
Her mind groped in the darkness for her enemy, but found only the vaguest hint of her presence.
Evie was in here, she was sure of it. She just didn’t know where.
With the Gift useless she racked her brain, taking mental inventory of every object, tactic and possibility she had.
The first point in her favour was that she’d left her holosphere in here. The combat training device ran off its own internal power source, and it had been turned off when Evie managed to fry the Folly. There was a good chance it was still working; she just couldn’t think what kind of advantage it could give her. A distraction for sure, and a halfway decent light-source. It could record sessions as well as project them, and she had dozens of bouts from Tristan all the way back to Mikelatz stored in there. But Evie was way too slick to be put off by a holographic opponent, and if Kyra put down her swords to fumble with the device in the dark she wouldn’t live long enough to turn it on.
Beyond that… there was nothing she could think of. She knew the room, but not well enough to navigate it with her eyes closed.
Briefly, she felt Tris batter against the wall she’d erected between them. She caught a glimpse of him wedged inside an air-duct — Gods that kid was strong — but she squeezed down tight on their psychic link, choking it off. With one of the galaxy’s deadliest assassins stalking her through the impenetrable darkness, now was not the time for comparing notes.
She blinked, but it made no difference. Keeping her boots silent on the metal deck, she made for the far wall. The faintest of glows from the corridor outside would provide enough backlight to throw a shadow — assuming she could get around behind her target.
“Kylimnestra,” Evie’s voice came from off to one side, haughty and cruel. The odd lilting accent that made Ella sound so quaint had almost vanished from her twin sister’s words. “Formerly of Esper… you are a long way from home.”
Kyra kept silent, turning to face the sound. Evie couldn’t possibly have known where she’d end up when she followed them through the Portal; there was a slim chance she was as unprepared for night fighting as Kyra was.
Slim…
She spun, feeling a puff of air moving in from the other direction. Her swords swung through the shadows, meeting no resistance.
Shit! Instinct or imagination? The two were hard to separate under these conditions. Like fighting ghosts…
“A darling place, Esper!” Evie’s voice had switched direction, and Kyra pivoted to track it. “You know, there’s hardly any crime? There hasn’t been a murder there in decades. Not since you were last at home, actually.”
Kyra headed for the source of the voice, but Evie kept moving, staying ahead of her.
“Shall I tell you what I discovered there?” The assassin’s tone was light and mocking. “According to my research, in all of Esper’s history, you killed more people than anyone else. You’re the greatest mass-murderer the planet has ever known! Isn’t that fascinating?”
Kyra gritted her teeth, determined not to let the words get to her. Extenuating circumstances, she wanted to point out — but this was not a debate.
It was an execution.
“You like killing people, don’t you Kylimnestra? Almost as much as I like killing people.”
“Some more than others,” Kyra snarled, immediately regretting the outburst.
“So, you can speak! That’s good. I hate killing cripples.”
Kyra felt the impulse just in time to throw herself sideways as a blade whispered through the air where her head had been. She tucked and rolled, coming to her feet with her swords up. She made wide sweeps left and right, willing the blades to extend and curve like ribbons. If Evie had hung around for a follow-up…? But no. No screams, no splatter of gore. She shifted her swords back to a defensive posture, reaching out futilely with the Gift.
Nothing.
Evie definitely had the advantage here.
Stupid! Following the trail she laid out for me. Should have gone straight to the armoury and grabbed the biggest thing I could find.
Edging a few steps sideways, she risked a glance around to get her bearings. The faint glow outlining the doorway was still behind her; she’d come further into the room than she’d realised, almost to the centre. The curved segments of the holosphere would be around here somewhere, clamped uselessly to the deck. And I’m going to die from tripping over them.
She caught another flash of intent from the front and collapsed backwards, rolling to her feet a short distance away. She gasped in pain; a line of fire stitched across her shoulder, the wound so hot she could feel her flesh burning. What the hell?
Evie was using some exotic weapon Kyra wasn’t familiar with.
Well, duh! If she’s done as much research as she says she has, she’d hardly have shown up with a net and a trident!
Kyra was back on her feet in an instant. Her swords slashed in from both sides, carving up the emptiness in front of her — but hit nothing.
This can’t go on…
It had been the narrowest of escapes; her shoulder burned in red-hot agony, the smell of scorched meat reaching her nostrils. Already she felt the echo of Evie’s mind, as the assassin circled around her.
Playing with me, Kyra realised. Evie’s skill at blocking the Gift was too practiced to slip during a strike; she was deliberately telegraphing her moves, giving Kyra a split second to react.
Until she gets bored of it.
Kyra gritted her teeth and willed her body to relax. The odds of getting out of this were steadily diminishing — had diminished, in fact, to zero. But that didn’t mean she was going to panic.
No point giving Evie the satisfaction.
Die like I live, she vowed. With style.
She took a stance, sliding her left foot out in front of her. She brought her swords up and around, in a flowing pattern that was one of the first she’d mastered. The razor sharp blades, invisible in the darkness, bisected every angle around her in sequence. Designed to be a defence that only one of equal mastery could penetrate, it had one glaring flaw; repetition. The moves followed on from one another in an endless cycle, but anyone with the leisure to stand back and observe would quickly catch the pattern. After that, it was just a matter of timing…
And assassins were generally quite good at that.
“My my! Such a pretty display! No wonder Viktor wants you so badly.”
“Viktor?” Kyra was shocked out of her rhythm, her swords coming to a rest momentarily. Viktor… a name from her distant past. A past she’d been running from for as long as she could remember.
And because of this dumb feud, he’s finally caught up with me.
She breathed deep, trying to regain her composure. Arranozapar required absolute concentration to use; Evie must know that, and was trying hard to throw off her game.
Two could play at that. “Are you his right hand or his left? Aren’t you basically ‘armless?”
Evie snorted. “Oh, you thought I was upset about that? That I was here for revenge? So petty! My dear, I’m a Priestess. I’m above such tawdry notions. I’m here for the two-million credits your pretty little head is worth! I’ll have to be careful not to damage it too badly.” The assassin was still taunting, but there was a husky edge to the voice now; excitement perhaps, as she finally decided to end the game.
And this time, when she came, Kyra saw her.
Twin blades flared into existence, their edges blazing white-hot. Super-heated air followed in their wake as Kyra blocked the initial strikes, backing up as Evie pressed forward. The assassins’ face, caught in the sudden brilliance, revealed an expression bordering on lust.
Kyra feinted a step back then sprang to the side, hoping to get a strike in as Evie advanced, but the girl’s speed was breath-taking. Ducking beneath the blow she came up inside Kyra’s defence, incandescent heat scoring para
llel lines across her stomach.
Kyra screamed, but the Arranozapar swished down, driving Evie back. As Kyra reeled in shock and pain her attacker performed a perfect backflip, landing gracefully beyond the swords’ optimum range. The light from those blazing blades faded, slowly extinguished. Kyra gasped for breath, resisting the urge to check her new injury. It hurt like hell, but that was more from the surface burn than the actual damage.
She hoped.
Still, there was no doubt; she was losing this fight, and badly. Not many weapons could block the Arranozapar; they could slice through a ship’s hull in a single stroke. Evie had not only found such a weapon, she was wielding it with consummate skill.
Of course, being able to see probably didn’t hurt.
When the first hint of dull red gleamed, Kyra was ready. Tracking the source of the light as it blossomed, she rained down blows in a relentless barrage.
Evie blocked them all, the red-hot blades striking sparks from the Arranozapar. The brief flashes helped Kyra get a sense of depth; the assassin had backed off again, leaving bright spots floating in her vision.
And then night fell again, rippling heat the only clue that Evie had been there.
That, and a deep slash in Kyra’s right thigh muscle.
She’d felt it like an electric shock, but now the wound sizzled. Her leg threatened to collapse, but she kept upright. No blood; the weapons were cauterising the wounds as fast as they made them.
Was that a good thing? Sydon’s Name, they hurt more than any cuts she’d ever taken.
Struggling to get her breathing under control, she limped back a step — and felt her foot catch on something.
Fucking holosphere!
Evie surged forwards, not even bothering to disguise her intent anymore—
And then a comet arced in from the doorway, bouncing to earth between them.
Something brighter than the sun streaked past Evie, sending her reeling.
Kyra didn’t stop to look; with all the mental discipline at her command, she clamped down on the pain — and ran.
The assassin would be on her in moments, she knew. There was precisely one thing that could change that. Shoot the holosphere! she flung the thought as Tristan, who was the source of the sudden brightness.
And an instant later his second blaster bolt slammed into the device on the floor behind her.
The blast as its powerpack exploded picked her up and threw her most of the way back to the door. But she was ready for it, breaking her fall with a roll. She came to her feet gasping in agony, the afterimage of the laser bursts imprinted on her retinas — but still running.
She made the door in seconds, barrelling past a startled Tristan. The kid had his rifle pointing into the room, and a face like a thundercloud.
“That bitch is dead!” he roared, taking a step into the auditorium.
“No!” Kyra blocked him with a sword. “That won’t do it. She’s wearing armour. Come on!” She took off at a dead run, praying to Sydon he had enough sense to follow her.
She needn’t have worried. Even pissed off, Tris knew who was in charge.
“You okay?” he asked, matching her stride. The same question mirrored through their mental link.
Do I look okay? she snapped, saving her breath for running.
How did she—
Save it! Kyra pounded towards the emergency stairwell, blinking at the blotches in her vision. It was still too dark to see anyway. We’ve got to hit the armoury. When she gets up she’s gonna try to skewer both of us.
Skewer? You smell like you’ve been cooked
Kyra grimaced, as a new wave of pain took her breath away. Let’s just say that chick is too hot to handle.
They made it four levels down before she had to slow. Finding the armoury in almost total darkness would be a challenge in itself, let alone doing it at a sprint.
To say nothing of collapsing before they got there.
Tris swept the corridor with the narrow beam of his rifle’s targeting light. “She followed us through the Portal?” he suggested, his breath ragged.
Kyra nodded, knowing his mind would pick up the subtle confirmation.
“Can we take her?”
Kyra shook her head.
“Crap. How long till the power comes back on?”
“Tris,” Kyra wheezed, putting a hand out to feel the wall beside her. “Put a sock in it! We need this door open.”
She hoped it was the armoury; it felt like the right location, but they didn’t put big signs on these places in case of enemy boarding actions. Ironically, this enemy had a much better chance of finding what she wanted.
Time to disappoint her.
She’d curled the Arranozapar around her waist for the run, but they uncoiled with a touch. Her shoulder screamed at her as she raised her arms to make the cuts — one each side, and one across the top. The door fell in with a crash, and rifle barrels glinted in the light of Tris’ beam.
Yes! Something going right for once.
She led the way inside, leaving Tris to keep an eye on the corridor. She pulled a rifle from the nearest rack and checked its powerpack; fully charged. Snapping on the target light she probed the recesses of the room, looking for something more powerful. She felt better already; just having a long-range weapon in her hands restored some of her confidence. Of course, Evie would be well-armed too — but after the debacle upstairs, she’d take a firefight over hand to hand combat any day.
Especially as Blas had stashed some of his ‘good’ gear in here.
She missed the big man sorely — more than ever at times like these — but at least he’d been good enough to leave her his toys.
Behind her she could feel Tris questing out with all his senses, straining to find some trace of Evie’s movements. He had as much chance of spotting her as Kyra did, so she left him to it. Ditching her rifle for a second, she clipped an armoured chest-plate around herself, handing a second one back to Tris. She kept watch while he fumbled with the fasteners. There was still no sign of Evie, but that was hardly surprising; she’d dedicated her entire life to stealth and infiltration.
“We need to find something to even the odds,” Kyra whispered. “The good stuff is—”
“In the back, I know,” Tris hissed back. “That little bonus room. But if we cut the doors off it’ll be pretty obvious.”
“We won’t be in there long. But if you can find something to pry them, I can just cut the locking mechanism. Here, try this.” She handed him a sturdy combat knife. Together, they backed deeper into the armoury. It wasn’t a huge space, and would be a nightmare to get caught in. Shelves and racks penned them in on all sides as they reached the far door.
Switching to her swords, Kyra flattened the tip of one and inserted it, catching and cutting the lock halfway down. Tris dug the knife into the gap and between them they forced the doors open wide enough to slip in.
Inside this antechamber the air felt heavy, their twin beams the only source of illumination.
Hey, she can see in the dark, right? Tris was struggling one-handed to wrap something around a sheathed machete he’d picked up. Kyra caught the sudden whiff of perfume and glanced over to see what he was doing.
Sorry! I found it in your quarters.
He was dousing some cloth with the stuff, soaking it thoroughly.
Laser igniter! He produced the tool from his pocket, firing two short blasts into his creation. The bundle flared and caught fire, throwing their surroundings into stark contrast. Heavy weapons glinted in the sudden light. Tris hefted the homemade torch in his spare hand; it dawned on Kyra that he’d thrown the same thing into the auditorium upstairs.
Saving her life in the process.
Nice, Kyra congratulated him. But that better not be made of my new wardrobe.
Bed sheets, Tris grinned at her.
Okay. Grab anything that looks dangerous.
But a crash from outside froze them both in their tacks. Another crash sounded, deafening in t
he silent darkness. Kyra cursed; Evie had followed them down the stairwell, and was already on the same level.
What’s she doing? Tris asked. Trying to wreck the place by hand?
Kyra didn’t bother answering. Tris got rhetorical under stress she’d noticed, unable to suppress his urge to analyse everything out loud. But at least it meant he was thinking. Two months ago he’d have panicked and probably peed himself.
Stay calm kid, and get ready to unload the second you see her face.
The crashes came again, accompanied by a screech like tearing metal. Kyra could feel the anger pouring off Tris — both for what Evie had done to her, and for what she was doing now to his beloved battle station. That was good, and it was a lesson to her. She was skating dangerously close to prey mentality after being so comprehensively beaten, but Kyra was no-one’s prey.
She was a predator, and she had a hundred times more anger stored up than Tris did.
She pulled a chunky-looking pulse rifle from its stand and flicked it to full-auto. Come and find me little lady.
When the next screech came, it seemed further away.
Has she missed us?
Not likely. Kyra jerked her head at the torch, which would be clearly visible from the corridor outside. Get ready.
She felt Tris steel himself for the confrontation, and took heart from it. He was brave, and getting more so every day. It was a pity his chances of living to see another one were so slim.
Where is she? Anxiety mingled with the anger accompanying his thought, as seconds stretched out and the silence grew.
Be ready, Kyra repeated. Her heart was pounding loud in her ears and she willed it to shut up.
Maybe she’s fled? Maybe she’s hurt?
Okay, don’t be ready then. It’s your funeral.
The wait was starting to fray her nerves as well. Evie was too good at this; it was clear the assassin was still having fun.
Should I go out and check?
Kyra rolled her eyes, not that he could see them. She’s coming. She’s just giving us time to freak ourselves out.
It’s working!
Warden's Vengeance Page 16