“Just like you and the Dark Ones,” I said.
“Precisely so,” said Nicholas.
“No,” I said. “No, it’s not. I know you had to murder someone to get that Dark One inside of your head. I know all your Gatekeepers did. I’ve seen the murders you people do. And that stadium in Los Angeles you tried to blow up…”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Nicholas without rancor. “This again? How often must you remind me of that very expensive failure? And I’ve explained this to you. We were trying to kill Duke Wraithmyr. The spectators were collateral damage. But legitimate collateral damage. They were participating in…”
“In the system of oppression that makes Elves the ruling class and humans the ruled class,” I said, mimicking his lecturing tone as best as I could. Nicholas snorted. “So you can murder a bunch of children, and it’s totally fine.”
Nicholas shrugged. “You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.”
“Yeah. People are just like eggs.”
“What we are doing,” said Nicholas, “will be worth the cost.”
“Sure. Let’s kill a few million people so you can be the dictator of Earth. That’ll be totally worth it.”
“Yes, it will,” said Nicholas. For a moment he looked…earnest, actually earnest. “Do you understand what the Revolution is trying to do? You seem to think we’re trying to turn Earth into a death camp. No. We’re going to free humanity, Kat. No more Elves, no more nobles. And then we will build a paradise for mankind. No more rich, no more poor, no more religions, no more divisions and discords of any kind. The Knight and I have also worked out a plan to give every human on Earth magical ability. Then we shall stand on an equal footing with the Archons and the dwarves and the frost giants and the myothar, with every other race that can access the Shadowlands and wield magic. Earth shall be united and strong, and perhaps in time we shall spread to other worlds and conquer them.” Nicholas smiled. “You know, before the Conquest, people used to think that someday mankind would use science and engineering to build starships and colonize other worlds. A fine dream, but you and I know the truth. Magic is the route to power, and magic shall free mankind and take us to the stars.”
“A dream,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s all it is. A dream.”
“For now, yes,” said Nicholas. “We shall make it real.”
“No,” I said. “It’s just a dream, and…and a poisonous one at that.”
Nicholas snorted. “Defeatism from you, Kat? Uncharacteristic.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I said, groping at an idea that I grasped but I could not quite articulate. “You say you’re doing this for humanity. Or for future generations or whatever. But they’re not real.”
“They are quite real,” said Nicholas.
“Yeah, but not the way you think of them,” I said. “It’s like you’ve got this abstract picture of them in your head. And you’ve been telling yourself for years that you’re doing things for the good of humanity so you can have a license to do whatever you want. Except that means you treat the real people, the actual people, in front of you horribly. The stadium, yeah. But all those people who died in Milwaukee when you and the Rebels let the Archons into the city. You murdered Dr. Tocci because she had doubts about your plan. You shot Vass because he went behind your back to help you. And all those other people you’ve murdered and extorted and blackmailed? They’re real, and you hurt them, and all to defend these imaginary ‘future generations’ you’ve built up inside your head.”
“Ruthlessness is necessary in war,” said Nicholas. “You understand that. Look at how far you’ve gone to save your brother.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah. And maybe I’ve gone way too far.” I thought about the day I had almost murdered Alexandra Ross. “But I stopped myself. And…God, Nicholas. There are lines. There really are. I know you don’t think they’re real, that they’re made up, or the High Queen trained them into us as the opiate of the masses or whatever. But there are lines, and I’ve crossed too many of them, and I don’t want to cross any more of them.”
Nicholas laughed a little. “You’re sentimental, Nadia. Really, you are. You could be capable of so much more than you are. Instead, you worry about the little children and their mothers and ignore the possibility of building a better world.”
“You know what?” I said. “You’re right. I do. And I’m not going to change my mind about it. That fantasy world of yours is never going to happen. And in the meantime, you’re going to hurt and a kill a hell of a lot of real, actual people to defend those imaginary abstract future generations you’ve got in your head.”
Neither he nor I said anything for a while. I stared at the man who had been my one and only lover. I hated him, and once the deal was done, I would not hesitate to kill him. But at the same time, I did respect him even as I hated and feared him. He wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t a fool. He was a good leader, and he had vision.
And to fulfill that vision, he had been willing to poison a woman who had been devoted to him and his cause on the off chance that she might develop moral qualms about his plans.
Yeah. All those pretty words, all those fine speeches about a new and better world, they all fell apart once I compared Nicholas’s speeches to what he had actually done.
“I am not,” said Nicholas at last, “ever going to convince you otherwise, am I?”
“No,” I said. “You’re not. In the same way I’m never going to change your mind.”
“I wonder if Kaethran Morvilind understood what he was doing when he created you,” said Nicholas. “You have all his ruthlessness, and yet…maybe it’s the influence of your brother. The necessity of preserving his life since childhood. That’s embedded into your mind now, and perhaps that is what is stopping you from becoming what you could otherwise become.”
“And what could I become?” I said, my voice quiet. “Your girlfriend again? You know that isn’t happening.”
“No,” said Nicholas. “And when I want…physical release, let us say, I can get that easily enough. You offer more than that.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re a woman of nerve and ability,” said Nicholas, “and whatever happened to make you…well, into whoever you are now, it didn’t break you. You could have been a great asset to the Revolution.”
“Maybe,” I said. “If I hadn’t seen what your Revolution was like from the outside first.”
“Perhaps,” said Nicholas.
We used to talk like this all the time, back when we first met and started sleeping together. Except I knew better now. The entire time we had been lovers, he had been planning to murder tens of thousands of people and pin the blame on me. When I had returned from the Grand Warrior Casino, he and Corbisher had been talking about the best way to kill Russell and me. Oh, Nicholas might have kept Corbisher from going after Russell, but he had only done that because he was confident he could kill us both once he had the Sky Hammer.
And God only knew what he would do with that weapon.
The hate drowned out the respect again.
By this time tomorrow, I realized, one of us would have killed the other.
“6 AM,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”
Without another word, I turned and left.
I returned to the main floor where Murdo and Russell waited.
“How did it go?” said Murdo.
“About as well as you expect,” I said, tugging my coat closer. I felt cold, cold, cold after talking to Nicholas, and not just from the stress of holding my magic ready. “We’re leaving for Last Judge Mountain tomorrow at 6 AM. And then once we find this Sky Hammer thing for Nicholas…then we’re going to settle this, once and for all.”
Murdo nodded, his face grave.
“We’ll be ready,” said Russell, his expression just as solemn.
“Nadia?” said Murdo.
“Yeah?” I said.
“You look nice.”
That was so unexpe
cted that I laughed. “But I’m wearing more clothes than before.”
“You look nice now, too,” said Murdo, “but you look more like yourself.” He smiled a little. “That’s better.”
“Aw,” I said. “That’s sweet.”
And I was kind of touched, I admit.
The feeling faded as I thought about tomorrow.
Either the three of us were walking away from Last Judge Mountain, or Nicholas was.
Chapter 7: Last Judge
The next day was July 1st, and we were ready to go at 6 AM.
A lot of preparation had gone into it, though.
Murdo insisted that the three of us each carry a survival pack loaded with food and water. He pointed out that a lot of Nevada was empty countryside far from any road or town, and Nicholas might decide the most efficient way to get rid of us was to dump us in the desert and leave us to die. That was a good thought, so I didn’t complain as I hoisted the extra weight of the pack.
I dressed as I usually did – black jeans and running shoes, and then a tank top, a sweater, and my black navy pea coat. That’s warm for the Nevada desert in July, but I suspected I wouldn’t be able to spare any concentration to keep the magical chill at bay. From the Rebels’ weapons, I took a pair of .45 caliber Royal Arms pistols and a gun belt. I holstered the weapons on either hip and stuffed extra magazines into the belt’s loops. Between that and the survival pack that Murdo had prepared, I was carrying a lot of extra weight, but better to have it and not use it than to need it and go without.
Murdo dressed in full tactical kit – army boots, black cargo trousers, a ballistic vest, and a belt with pistols and a bandoleer with ammunition across his chest. He also carried an AK-47 from the Rebels’ armory and had several grenades in his bandoleer. I insisted that Russell also take a ballistic vest, and he armed himself with a pair of pistols and another AK-47.
“Have you ever used a fully automatic weapon before?” I asked.
“A couple of times at rifle club,” said Russell. “Some M-99 carbines. It’s really hard to aim. Spray and pray, the instructor used to call it.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Keep it on single shot. That lever…yeah, that one, there.”
“You think we’ll need to shoot?” said Russell, face grim.
“I don’t know,” I said. “We might. There’s no telling what’s inside Last Judge Mountain.”
And no telling what tricks Nicholas might have for us.
“Better to be ready for anything,” said Murdo. He glanced towards the opened warehouse doors. “Looks like they’re finished fueling up the helicopters. We should join them.”
“Yeah,” I said.
I looked at Russell, said a silent prayer for God to look after him, and then walked outside.
The sun was just starting to come up, the eastern sky turning rosy pink. Two good-sized surplus Homeland Security helicopters sat in the yard. Most Homeland Security choppers were blue, but these two had been repainted with desert-camouflage. A crew of Rebel soldiers worked over both helicopters, doing the final safety checks. Geoffrey Turner supervised one of the crews. Nicholas had recruited him before the raid on the Royal Bank, and he was a nervous man incapable of making eye contact with anyone.
Good helicopter pilot, though.
Leonid Rogomil supervised the second crew, eyes hidden beneath aviator sunglasses. From time to time he barked a stream of invective in Russian at someone who displeased him.
“You know how to fly a helicopter?” I said, giving him a dubious look.
Leonid grinned at me, my reflection in his sunglasses. “Yes. Learned years ago, flying helicopters in Kamchatka for the Okhrana.”
“The Okhrana?” said Russell.
“Very prestigious,” said Leonid.
“The secret police of the Russian Imperium,” I said. “The word’s an acronym in Russian for the committee of state security or something like that. They make our Homeland Security look warm and cuddly by comparison.”
I wasn’t joking. In the United States, the Punishment Day videos involved flogging or execution. In the Russian Imperium, the Okhrana got more inventive. Sometimes the Punishment Day videos involved such innovations as starving feral dogs or death from frostbite. And the Russian Punishment Day videos were tame compared to what the internal security of the Chinese Imperium did to criminals.
“Nonsense,” rumbled Leonid. His cold grin didn’t change. “The Okhrana is reasonable. Very reasonable indeed. If a man is a problem, you get rid of the man. No problem.” He pointed a finger at Murdo and mimed shooting a gun. “See? Very reasonable.”
Murdo just stared at him. From someone like him, a blank stare was as much of a threat as a drawn gun.
“Yeah,” I said. “The Okhrana is so reasonable you’re out here flying helicopters for these losers instead of back home in Russia beating up prisoners.”
“No,” said Leonid. “I’m on the winning side. That’s why I’m here.” His cold smile sharpened. “As you’re about to find out, Miss Moran.”
I stared back at him, the fingers of my right hand flexing. For a moment, I contemplated using the mindtouch spell to break into his thoughts and find out what he knew about the Sky Hammer and Last Judge Mountain. Except I would have to touch him to do it. We were surrounded by armed Rebel soldiers, and while I was pretty sure I could kill them all, I wasn’t certain. A stray bullet might hit Murdo or Russell, and Nicholas and his friends might rush out to join the fight. Nicholas, Hailey, and Corbisher could all use magic, and while I thought I could take any one of them in a straight fight, three of them at once would be hard.
Especially when they had a lot of armed men for backup.
No. Not yet.
I watched Leonid, but he grunted and turned back to the helicopter.
I saw people coming from the warehouse, and I turned.
Nicholas, Corbisher, Swathe, Morelli, and Hailey headed towards the waiting helicopters. All of them had dressed in the same way – combat fatigues, ballistic flak vests, gun belts and bandoleers, and a lot of guns. The amount of weaponry looked natural on Nicholas, Morelli, and Swathe, though Corbisher seemed uncomfortable and out of place. Hailey had pulled back her blond hair in a tight braid to keep it out of her face, and her expression was solemn, even drawn. All of them looked tense.
Just what kind of defenses had Jeremy Shane left around Last Judge Mountain?
“Hey, look, everyone,” I said. “It’s the surplus sale SWAT team.”
Swathe sneered at me.
“Very droll, as always,” said Nicholas. “You three are ready?”
“Yep,” I said.
“Good.” Nicholas smiled. “You have an interest in history, Mr. Moran? Fortunate for you. Today you’re going to see history as it’s made.”
Russell gave him an easy smile. “Some of us are, anyway.”
“We’re ready here?” said Nicholas to Turner and Leonid. Both men nodded. “Good. Leonid, I’ll ride with you, as will Corbisher and Hailey. Morelli, Swathe, go with Turner. Miss Moran, you, your brother, and Murdo will ride with Turner. Let’s go. It’s about a two and a half hour flight to Last Judge Mountain from here.”
“Why are we flying?” I said. “Why aren’t we driving?”
“Our destination is in the Shoshone Mountains in western Nevada,” said Nicholas without missing a beat. “The road to Last Judge Mountain is in poor repair. Getting there by truck and SUV would take the better part of eight hours, and we don’t have that time to waste.”
With that, he headed towards Leonid’s helicopter. I looked at Murdo and Russell, and we headed for Turner’s chopper.
“I’ve never ridden in a helicopter before,” said Russell as we climbed inside. Swathe and Morelli followed, Swathe glaring at us, Morelli calm as usual.
“Make sure you put your earphones on,” I said. The passenger cabin was lined with seats, and I sat down in one, adjusting my pack so it wouldn’t dig into my back. “And buckle your seat belt. Helicopters get bouncy.”
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“Bouncy,” said Swathe with disdain.
I grinned my mirthless grin at him. “Feel free not to buckle yours.”
He was spared the need to think up a rejoinder when Turner started the engines. A low whine filled the cabin, a whine that transmuted into the familiar throbbing roar as the rotors spun up. We finished buckling in, Turner wrapped up a few more preflight checks, and then we took off.
I watched through the windows as we flew west over Las Vegas and then northwest across the deserts and into the mountains. I hadn’t realized this before, but Nevada has a lot of freaking mountains. I mean, I had known that on an intellectual level, but the only parts of Nevada I had visited had been the areas around the freeways. I had wondered how something like the Last Judge base could have been lost for three centuries, but as I looked at the sheer size of all the empty space in Nevada, I understood how it had happened.
I kept an eye on Morelli and Swathe, but neither man appeared inclined to make trouble. Morelli played a crossword game on his phone, and Swathe alternated between scowling at me and scowling out the window. I supposed neither one of them would try anything while we were in the air. Getting into a gunfight inside a flying helicopter is a really great way to get killed.
We flew for about two hours without any sign of civilization, and then I spotted the narrow gray ribbon of a gravel road far below. The helicopter dipped lower, following the line of the road, and I saw that it led into a narrow valley at the base of a jagged, snow-crowned mountain.
“Is that it?” I yelled.
Morelli nodded.
“Where the hell did the road come from?” I said.
“Connor built it,” said Morelli. “Used a false mining company as a front.”
The helicopter descended, and I saw a makeshift base in the valley, similar to some of the ones Murdo and I had destroyed during our harassment of the Rebels. A half a dozen prefab trailers sat in a row, next to a pair of heavy-duty trucks, and I saw small figures emerge from the trailers as we descended. They were Rebel soldiers wearing the usual collection of mismatched tactical gear, AK-47s in hand. Then the helicopters kicked up a large cloud of dust as they neared the ground, and I couldn’t make out anything. A minute later the skids settled against the earth with a faint crunch, the helicopter rocking a little, and we landed. Turner shut off the engines, and the rotors spun down with a whine.
Cloak Games: Last Judge Page 12