by C. G. Hatton
All around the cordon surrounding us, there was the clatter of guns as the soldiers dropped their weapons, putting their hands in the air, the tanks powering down, the barrels of the auto-sentry guns flopping to point at the ground.
The Commandant was staring at me, eyes narrow, mouth taut.
I wanted to crawl back into the hut, flinching from the oppressive mass above us, but I glanced across at Hil, and we both looked up.
It was huge. Unbelievably huge and even more intimidating this close up. Silent. Big as a city block. Just hovering there. There was no downdraft, no heat, no noise, just this incredible feeling of mass so close it was worse than uncomfortable, it was painful.
Hil laughed. He spun around, arms flung out, head upturned, and yelled, “Holy shit.”
I backed away, throat so dry I couldn’t swallow and a pressure pushing against my chest so bad it was hard to breathe.
“How did it know we were here?” I mumbled.
Hil turned, a huge grin on his face. “Because I told her. You’re not the only one that can hack into a comms system.” He looked up and shouted, “Holy shit, Skye.” He made this overly theatrical gesture of shrugging as he looked back at me. “What the hell do we do now?”
I had no idea. We didn’t know how the guild operated. There’s something awesome about being valued. And knowing that I’d never be left behind is what kept me going. Too many times to count.
They came for us. Sienna was with the Security forces that landed, descending out of nowhere, supporting a bunch of extraction teams, and blitzing the place, sending the Spearhead contingent scattering. They pulled us out, told us the Emperor would be fine, and took us back to the Alsatia. We never really found out what happened once we’d been extracted. I heard someone say McIntyre got away. I don’t know what happened to Jem.
Sienna told me afterwards that they thought they’d lost us when we were taken from Redemption. We sat in the mess, way after everyone else had disappeared off to bed, and she gave me the biggest hug anyone ever has. I didn’t tell her about Arianne. I’ve never told anyone. And now Mendhel is gone, I guess none of it matters anyway.
•
Luka closes his eyes and says quietly, “Incoming.”
I don’t know when I snuggled up next to him, but I have tight hold of his hand.
“They’re ours,” he says.
I don’t want to move but I look up to see Hil, followed by people I recognise, people I feel I know even though I’ve never met them, Sean O’Brien and Hal Duncan, all of them breathing heavily like they’ve been running, and not just running, worrying, beyond relieved to see us and to see that he’s still alive.
Just.
“I can’t stop the bleeding,” I say, feeling very small.
Hil offers me his hand. “Come with me.”
I let him lead me away as the others sit by Luka and start to fuss. I glance back over. Sean has her hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently, reassuring him as Duncan tries to patch him up. I can’t hear all of what they’re saying, but I catch mention of them needing NG, that something’s not right, and I know it’s bad.
I must be staring because Hil sits himself down in front of me, blocking my view of them, a grin on his face like he knows what I’m thinking.
“He’ll be fine,” he says and puts his gun on the floor between us, starting to strip it, laying out the pieces and wiping each one carefully.
It takes him a minute to look up. “What’s he been telling you this time?”
“Your first tab.”
“Ah,” he says. “You want to know what really happened?”
I nod, stupidly. I want to know everything.
“LC was a little shit. Seriously. But he was a runt of a kid when he turned up and he could do no wrong. He had these big puppy dog eyes and he’d pull this little face that made everyone melt. He got away with whatever shit he wanted.”
He pauses, adding a drop more oil to the gun’s mechanism.
I can’t help asking, “What about you?”
“Me? You want to know what he didn’t tell you? I didn’t hate him. It was the only way I knew I could keep him alive. He was naïve as hell. My orders were to watch his back, keep him out of trouble. He was just a kid after all. Hell, we both were. I figured the easiest and safest way to keep us both alive was simply to take over. I’d been in prison, I knew how it worked possibly better than anyone, so I became the daddy, the head honcho, the big kahuna…” He smiles. “If anyone in that prison had found out I was protecting him, we both would’ve been as good as dead. As it was, no one dared do anything unless I gave the order. He got roughed up a little but nothing to spoil those damn good looks of his.” This time Hil grins.
“He said you tried to leave.”
“He told you that, huh? Well he wasn’t lying, but the truth was way more complicated than that. But isn’t it always?” That quiet smile again. “I was running, Spacey, like I had been all my life. I always thought I was running towards something. Something bigger, better. But the truth was I was running away. I’d always been running away. LC gave me a reason to stop running.”
I look at him, the unspoken question on my lips.
“The reason?” The grin is back but this time there’s a thoughtful look in his eyes. “He believed in me. He was the first person to actually believe in me. He didn’t want anything from me, he didn’t need anything from me.” He pauses again. “LC wears his heart on his sleeve. As much as he pretends to be cold and indifferent, he cares. Sometimes I think he cares too much. But that’s how we need him to be. He believes in all of us. You need to believe in him.”
I watch as he starts to reassemble the gun, leaning slightly to see if I can see Luka, see that he’s okay. Except he’s not. And from the look on Sean’s face, I don’t know if he’s going to be.
Hil looks up. “It was when we got back that things got really cool. Next time you’re caught behind enemy lines, you need to ask him about Temerity.”
Next time? I can’t help the shiver. “Are we clear now…? Are they gone?”
He glances back over towards the others and looks back at me, giving a small shake of his head.
“They won’t ever be gone, will they?” I say.
“No, they won’t. But, Spacey, what did LC tell you? In all of this… what was the one thing he told you that matters more than anything?”
I lift my chin defiantly. “That no one messes with the Thieves’ Guild.”
“Damn right,” he says. “Don’t forget that. Don’t ever forget that.”
•
DARKEST FEARS
(Thieves’ Guild Book Five: Bhenykhn Wars 1)
by C.G. Hatton
•
Published by Sixth Element Publishing
Arthur Robinson House
13-14 The Green
Billingham TS23 1EU
Great Britain
Tel: +44 1642 360253
www.6epublishing.net
© C.G. Hatton 2018
www.cghatton.com
Also available in paperback.
C.G. Hatton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
•
For Hatt
Chapter 1
“Where is he?”
Sebastian raised his eyes. “You care?”
The Man was standing in the doorway. “Of course I care,” he snapped.
It was surprising that the Man had even come, strange to see him here, in this alien place, in that alien form, his former tormentor, regarding him with such suspicion now that he was free.
Sebastian laughed. “I suppose in your own way you do,” he mocked. “Nikolai always was your favourite. He is your creation, after all. Of course you care where he is. You all do. It’s pathetic. But that is not why I summoned you here.”
He gestured, standing aside and inviting the Man to step into the eerie darkness of the abandoned, partially destroyed forward operating base. This was now his domain. He’d done th
is. He’d wrought this destruction. And now he’d claimed it as his own.
“So why did you ask me here?” the Man said, refusing to acknowledge the barbed comment, his voice as ponderous as ever, his eyes dark.
“Because the humans are losing the war. Because the help you promised is not enough.” Sebastian wiped his hand across the inert centre console, the creatures that had powered it all dead, now just dust smearing beneath his fingers. He looked up. “Because Nikolai is not the only one to have been caught by the Bhenykhn. Anderton…” It was disturbingly difficult to even say that name without sneering. “…the bastard protégé of whom you are all so fond, is in far more trouble than any of you realise.”
The Man was smart. He didn’t buy it. As expected.
“And what, forgive me for seeing through your charade of altruism, is the real reason, Sebastian?”
Sebastian smiled. “I want you to give me the knowledge you are hiding from the humans.”
“And in exchange?”
“I’ll tell you what I know of Nikolai and Anderton. And I’ll tell you who has been betraying you and your precious Thieves’ Guild this whole time.”
•
The last body hit the floor, blood spurting, screams dying, jeers and harsh laughter erupting around the hall. The stench was sickening, the incessant hum of the alien hive mind as oppressive as a giant fist pressing down on his skull.
LC watched, unflinching, from the prisoner cage, next in line, shifting his weight slightly, the chains around his wrists clanking, chafing, every inch of his body aching. A trickle of sweat ran down his back, stinging each fresh burn and cut. He tensed his stomach muscles and breathed slowly.
He had his head lowered but eyes up, watching as the Bhenykhn champion kicked away the bloody remains of the human it had been fighting. The body rolled up against the heap of others sprawled there, dislodging dismembered limbs and severed heads and chunks of flesh from the pile.
The alien warrior raised its arms with a bellow, hefting a bloodied axe in one hand, a jagged blade in the other, revelling in the kill, and turning in a slow circle to louder grunts and shouting all round, fists pounding on the banquet table set around the fight pit.
He watched from the cage, knowing what it felt like to have one of those vicious toxin-dipped blades bite into his flesh, the terror of paralysis as the poison spread. He’d been caught by them before, he knew exactly what it felt like. He breathed through the memory of it, keeping his shoulders relaxed, heart rate slow, shutting out the screams further down the line, the clang of another cage door as another unlucky sucker was hauled out and dragged away for god knows what.
The cloying smell of spit-roasted flesh seeped through the humid air, mingling with the smoke from braziers, the sweat and fear, that dank leafmold dampness extending creeping tendrils that wrapped around his senses. Stifling. A roiling mix of pheromones and narcotics, battle fever high and an insatiable need to devour emanating from the aliens, heightened terrified defiance and desperation in equal measure from the humans, all rolling over him and threatening to overwhelm.
He took a step closer to the bars, feeling the others shying away behind him. The hulking figures of grunt Bhenykhn were stationed all around the hall, huge rifles cradled in thick arms. There was a shaman in each corner, tall, hunched, each clutching its damned staff of weighted, twisted metal, the dangling strings of knucklebones rattling as they surveyed the proceedings.
There was no way out.
Even if he wasn’t shackled and locked in a cage, there was no way out. And he had no way to communicate with anyone. They’d gouged the Senson implant out of his neck as soon as he’d been captured. He could still feel the dull throb of the paralysing toxin that had snaked down into his spine. And as far as trying to contact anyone direct, mind to mind, he couldn’t risk it in case the aliens sensed what he was doing.
The last thing he needed was to stand out.
So he was on his own.
The champion turned to its warlord, the massive Bhenykhn seated at the head of the long table, gnawing on a human thigh bone, fat and juices dripping, the black, fur-lined cloak about its shoulders studded with elaborate jewelled badges of tarnished metal, kill tokens, that glinted in the candlelight.
A hush descended.
The warrior champion stared, orange eyes narrowing, and thumped its fist against its chest.
The warlord spat out a piece of gristle and raised its goblet in a slow salute, the liquid splashing like blood.
He could hear his own heartbeat as a pounding thud in that still lull of apprehension.
The warlord nodded.
There was a raucous cheer. He could feel the buzz of exhilaration in his mind as much as hear it in his ears. Drums began to pound out a rhythm, feet stomping, knife hilts slamming against the table, chanting rising to a roar that reverberated deep inside. He could sense that the ones around the table didn’t have their energy shield pods activated, the small, symbiotic creatures sleeping as their masters feasted, arrogant and contemptuous in their victory celebrations at conquering this human colony, their bloodlust still high.
The cage door banged open. He didn’t flinch and didn’t resist as they grabbed his arms, talons raking deep into his skin. They pulled him out, the chains catching and dragging out the others behind him, jostling them into a line around the pit.
The champion turned to regard them, a sneer spreading across its leathery face. It hefted its weapons, planting its feet.
The chains released and dropped, freeing them.
There were weapons scattered on the floor, inviting them to take up arms and fight, the pile of mutilated corpses testament to their chances of surviving such a contest.
LC felt the hesitation in the other prisoners.
He stepped forward, gesturing them to stay back. He didn’t need them. This was his fight.
He ignored the weapons and stepped into the arena.
The alien made a guttural sound that he knew passed for laughter, as it raised its knife and aimed it, sighting down the length of the blade, the serrated edge glinting, its eyes a dull orange, glaring unwavering into his.
It moved, fast for something so big, twirled its arm and released the knife into a trajectory aimed perfectly between his eyes. It was coming too fast, too much tumbling mass to avoid. The pounding beat of the drums increased, his heart thumping, deafening cheers anticipating the blood as his head would split open.
He twisted, shot out his left arm and dragged the blade out of the air, turning to face the Bhenykhn, letting the momentum swing the immense mass of the weapon round, as he settled into a perfect fighting stance.
He raised his eyes to stare into an alien face that was clouding with anger, hackles rising, a growl building in its chest as it struggled to comprehend why he wasn’t dead. He reached his other hand to take hold of the dagger’s hilt in a two-handed grip, breathed in and launched the massive weight of the blade back at it, and in the same instant focused a blast of telekinetic energy at the symbiotic shield pod fused into the base of its spine. The pulsing pod creature exploded in a burst of chitin, flesh and blood, the alien’s energy shield dissipating a fraction of a second before the razor sharp hunk of metal punched deep into its skull.
There was an instant of shock. It wavered. Then it dropped.
Even before its body hit the floor, the hall erupted in shock and outrage. The Bhenykhn reacted as one, the hive mind roaring, the grunt guards raising their rifles, every warrior around the banquet table rising, weapons clattering, goblets and platters flying.
And in that instant, fifty metallic spheres spun out of the rafters, detaching from every wall and column, twisted black metal casings coming alive as they dropped their chameleonic camouflage and attacked.
The execution was perfect. LC stood in the centre of the assault, head down, calm, breathing steadily and sending out blast after blast, targeting the guards first, shield pods then weapons, explosions billowing out as the energy packs overl
oaded. The guild’s miniature attack drones wrought their own chaos and destruction, whirling around the hall, firing blasts of their freaky ass armour piercing munitions that embedded deep and detonated. He felt the rumble of distant impacts as stealthed Thunderclouds in orbit burst into action, launching their attack on the alien troops stationed around the encampment the invaders had set up as their command centre on this devastated outpost.
The guild couldn’t really afford to throw this much munitions into one op, but given what was at stake, how could they not?
He refocused fast and in one blast took out all four shamans, more vicious than necessary, leaving nothing to doubt. They crumpled, their staffs clattering.
Behind him, the other prisoners were running for cover or grabbing weapons and joining the fight.
He turned his attention to the warlord. The huge Bhenykhn leader was standing, glowering at him. He could feel it reaching for him, the pressure against his mind building. He was vaguely aware of a blade slicing towards him, burning heat tearing across his arm, talons sinking into his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a figure in black moving amongst the fighting, Hilyer, a buzz of the metallic Hailstones surrounding him, darting away and moving back into formation as they took down Bhenykhn after Bhenykhn.
LC closed his eyes, every vein and artery on fire, his knees going as the alien behind him pressed down. He gave in to it, opened his mind to the warlord and connected with the hive.
The touch on his shoulder was soft, soothing. A sharp sting hit his neck, go-juice he thought, the shot of warmth from the combat stimulant spreading and evaporating in an instant. He was on the floor, face down. He blinked open one eye and tried to move. It felt like he was lying in thick, heavy mud. He could smell blood, leafmold, decay.
“We need to get out of here,” someone said.
Damn right they did. He could feel the hive gearing up to respond as they recovered from the confusion of the initial attack.