The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4

by Jennifer and Christopher Martucci

  Scrambling to their feet, the guards that held us rouse. Whirling on them, I carve the air and slice one’s throat while Will drives his blade straight through the gut of another. Another Urthman guard rushes toward Arnost but slips on the shattered glass littering the floor. He lands hard and is promptly met by Arnost’s enormous, booted foot stomping down on his neck. A sickly crunch fills the air. It is the sound of the Urthman’s windpipe being crushed.

  Only five Urthmen councilmen remain in the room. “Please, we are unarmed,” one of them raises his hands and says in a quivering voice.

  “So was my brother!” Arnost roars. Lunging, he rams his blade through the torso of the Urthman that spoke then slits the throat of the one beside him. The other three council members try to run, but I slash the air in a wide arc and claim the head of one while Will plunges his blade into the heart of another. Trapped with Arnost’s gigantic frame blocking him from leaving, the last Urthman standing jerks right then tries to run left. Arnost catches him by his neck and yanks him back. Squeezing the Urthman’s throat with vise-like pressure, Arnost stares into his eyes as his airway is crushed. Harsh breaths, ragged and swift, are all that I hear. Arnost’s enitre body quivers, and in his eyes, a lust for vengeance lurks.

  “Come on! We need to go!” I say.

  Not needing further prompting, Arnost releases the Urthman in his grip. He takes off after me as I race out of the room and down the hallway and toward the elevators, but the sound of voices, shouting and thumping within one, halts us. We run past it to a door at the end of the hall instead. Yanking it open, I dash down the stairs two at a time. When we are almost at the landing of the third flight, the heavy door there bursts open and five Urthman troops file through. They hurry up the steps toward us, and as they do, Arnost launches his foot forward and kicks the first in their line. Stunned and reeling, the Urthman pitches backward, colliding with the men behind him and sending them tumbling down the stairs to the floor. Capitalizing on their fall, we strike. Will and I deliver our swords with lethal precision. While we do, I notice that Arnost has dropped his sword, abandoning it in favor of his bare hands. Burrowing his fingers into the eyes of two Urthmen who’ve clambered to their feet, he slams their heads into the concrete wall behind them with a thwack. Bone splinters and rivulets of blood trickle from their noses and eyes. Arnost lowers his hands, his demeanor more ferocious than any man I’ve ever seen.

  Leaving the broken Urthman behind, we continue down the rest of the steps and find ourselves in the lobby. The guards who took our weapons and escorted us inside are gone. They likely left their post when the blast rocked the King’s chamber. No matter, they’re not here, and we manage to make it outside, crashing into pedestrians as we explode from the double doors and onto the sidewalk. Our car is in sight, so close I swear I can fairly hear the growl of its engine. Shouldering past some and slamming into others, Urthmen level us with perplexed expressions.

  When we are just steps away from our vehicle, a uniform-clad Urthman calls out, “Abort restraint! All of you, abort restraint!”

  Eerie stillness similar to the calm before a mighty storm rages blankets the sidewalk. Every Urthman around us freezes.

  “Oh no,” Will says in a low voice just before the world erupts in pandemonium.

  We barely manage to jump inside when the thump and crash of bodies flinging into our car rolls like thunder. Pelting unendingly, they assail the hood and doors, the windshield and trunk.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Will shouts as I twist my key in the ignition. The car snarls to life and I shove the gearshift into drive then stomp down on the gas pedal.

  The car whizzes out into traffic, and Urthmen who rain from every direction roll off my car as I veer and slam into the bumper of a vehicle.

  “Come on!” I grind the words out through my teeth and try in vain to maneuver away from the wall of cars. But it’s no use. I am trapped.

  Urthmen close in on us, ambling with unhurried steps as they move to tear us from our car and rip us limb from limb.

  “The sidewalk!” Will shouts. “Get up onto the sidewalk!”

  Jerking the gearshift into reverse, I back the car up onto the paved walkway then shift to drive once again. I step down on the gas pedal and plow into all who stand in my path. Screams ring out as Urthmen, too slow to react, are hit. Thumps are heard. Countless Urthmen are struck. I do not bother looking back, and I do not slow. I continue on the sidewalk until traffic clears enough for me to enter the flow. Once I do, I turn down random streets until I find myself on one with few cars.

  In the distance, murky, bluish-gray water roils. Impossibly, a giant green figure arises from it. Perched on an island amid white crests and chucks of ice and with one arm reaching for the heavens while holding an object I cannot see clearly, the statue gives me hope.

  Testing the engine further, I weave between cars and continue navigating down street after street. Traffic thins the further I travel. Skyscrapers give way to rundown structures. No one mills about on the sidewalks and vehicles are absent save for ours. A building catches my eye. With two small windows devoid of panes, a metal grate just below them and a large garage on the ground floor, the structure resembles a forlorn face. Ravaged by fire, soot smears mar the façade and a roof is absent. I stop just in front of it and turn toward Will. When I do, I see that the front of his jacket is soaked in blood.

  “Will! What happened? Are you okay?” I cry.

  “I’m fine,” he says tightly, but I can hear the strain in his voice. “This place is as good as any to set up the warhead.” He nods toward the burnt-out building. “Let’s go.” He doesn’t give me a choice in the matter. He’s out of the car and waiting at the trunk with Arnost when I make it there.

  Together, he and Arnost lift the weapon gingerly. Extending his arms and engaging the muscles throughout his body draws my attention not to the nuclear bomb we are about to detonate, but the expanding circle of crimson just below his ribs. My stomach plummets to my feet.

  “Careful,” Will says quietly as Arnost hefts his side too high.

  Arnost looks from the wound to me then back to Will, his expression grave. They carry the weapon into the building. Inside, the stench of stagnant water, urine and decay melds with the distinct scent of ash. Anemic ribbons of light spill in and reveal that the staircase that leads to the upper level is completely destroyed.

  “I guess we’ll hide it under there.” Arnost clips his head toward what looks like a desk, though it is hard to tell due to the piles of soot and shreds of paper all around it.

  “Fine,” I agree and wait until the weapon is settled beneath the battered piece of furniture.

  I approach it and depress the buttons to manipulate the numbers in the display window, thereby initiating the countdown. I set it to blow in one hour. That gives us ample time to leave Kildare, if we can get out. “All right, we have exactly one hour to get the heck out of here. C’mon!” But before I turn to leave, the countdown ceases. The panel blinks then resumes only to stop again. Repeating Sully’s instructions, I try again, but the numbers answer staunchly, refusing to tick by. “No, no,” I breathe, realizing that my death warrant has been issued, my fate sealed. Dread slinks down the length of my spine.

  “It’s going to have to be done manually.” Will’s voice is soft, tinged with resignation and another emotion I cannot name.

  Turning to him, I am met with his gaze. “We aren’t getting out of here.”

  “No. You will. I’ll stay behind and detonate it.” His voice is strong and sure, resonating with steely determination I’ve never heard from him before. He lifts his shirt and reveals a nasty gash on his side. Dark blood seeps from it. “I’m not making it to Cassowary anyway, Avery. I’m staying.” His lips have paled and his beautiful bronze skin has lost its warmth. Even his shimmering eyes are overcast.

  The gravity of his injury—of what he’s saying—steals the air from my lungs. With my throat constricting tightly, I shake my head stubbornly. “No, I�
��m not leaving you.” The dam that holds my emotions at bay breaks. My lower lip trembles. All I can picture is the boy I saw breaking the surface of the water months ago, his glistening eyes, his dark hair and golden skin. He was the first human I’d ever seen since retreating to the cave in the forest. His voice was a benediction, his presence the answer to a plea I’d made to the universe night after night. And now, I am leaving him to die alone and in the dark heart of enemy territory. “No! No! I won’t! I can’t!” My words are garbled by the sobs besetting my body. My shoulders shake and my insides shudder.

  “Avery, you have to. This is the only way.”

  My brain knows he’s right. It’s my heart that rages at the notion.

  “Please Avery. I need you to go. I need you to look after Oliver and Riley like they’re your own.”

  Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision and filling my mouth with their briny taste. “They already are my own,” I barely manage. And they are. They’ve been my family since the day they left their cave in the woods. They are my people and I am theirs.

  “Take care of them, Avery. Tell them I love them.” His voice catches. “And know that I love you, too.”

  My insides rip in two, an aching chasm forming where I existed once as a whole. I realize that there’s no way on earth I am leaving my friend behind. Sniffing and straightening my posture, I say, “No, I’m not leaving you.”

  I turn from him to look out the window to see if any Urthmen have found our car when pain explodes at the back of my head. “I’m so sorry, Avery,” Will’s voice utters the last words I hear before darkness crowds my field of vision and oblivion cradles me in a warm embrace.

  Chapter 21

  The echoing cry of rubber and the scream of tires braking precede a thunderous clash that jerks me from oblivion. Head pounding in rhythm with my heart, my eyes snap open in time to see a spray of sparks screeching in protest and then metal exploding against flesh. A loud thud is followed by the crunch of the windshield and blood splattering in every direction, the world roaring at me on a deafening, dizzying wave. I bolt upright and realize I’m in a seat, the passenger seat of our car, and Arnost is driving.

  “What the heck? Where are we?” My voice is gravelly, my throat dry as I try to muddle through the jumble of racing thoughts plaguing my brain.

  Yanking the wheel from left to right and hitting a car in the process, Arnost speaks to me without taking his eyes off the road. “Someone must’ve radioed ahead and told them to stop us.”

  “Who? What’re you talking about?” Thoughts fuzzy and shaken by the intense pain radiating from the back of my head, I take a cursory look out my window. Towering buildings, tight and close, with throngs of people circulating in their midst have given way to open road. A vast, paved path stretches out before me and no Urthmen roam. Swallowing hard, I ask, “Where are we?”

  Arnost allows his eyes to briefly flicker from the road to me. “Outside the city and on our way back home,” he replies tightly.

  A rush of inexplicable dread ripples through me like a powerful ocean current. My heart rate ratchets up a notch. I twist in my seat and see three are dead in the street beside a car; undoubtedly the Urthmen Arnost was referring to. But that’s not what strikes me. Something else does, something far worse. The back seat is empty. Will is not with us.

  Whipping around, panic seizes my breathing. “Where’s Will?”

  Arnost steals a sidelong glance. A lengthy pause fraught with twisting tension stretches between us. “You know where he is.” His voice is low when finally he answers. It resounds with sadness, and finality.

  For a fraction of a second, what he’s said does not register. I stare at him searchingly, until the faint tick between his brows reveals all. The meaning of his statement crashes against me. The corners of my mouth tug downward, spiraling to my feet with my heart. My lungs shrink, burning with every ragged breath I try to take. “Y-you left him?” The words stumble past my lips, asking a question for which I already have an answer. Insurmountable hurt wells from a yawning pit deep within my core. I cannot breathe. I cannot think clearly.

  Will. Was. Left. Behind.

  Will was left behind! A sudden burst of anger claws at me, merging with the hurt. “You left him behind!” I shout at Arnost as I cock my fist and launch it at him. Several blows connect, hitting his arm and shoulder. “How could you do that? How could you leave him there to die?” My heart pounds so hard and fast I can hardly hear my shrill screaming. “How could you?” Rage flares from me in a flurry of wild punches. Quickly, however, I’m subdued by a single, meaty hand.

  Catching both of my wrists in his ironclad grip, Arnost turns his eyes on me. He looks as remorseful as any man I’ve ever seen. “His wounds were mortal, Avery.” The shivering timber of his voice reflects what I see in his gaze. “He wouldn’t have made it. You know that.”

  As vividly as I picture the gaping wound in Will’s midsection, I still can’t reconcile leaving him behind in my mind. “He still shouldn’t have been left there,” I protest feebly, my throat constricting so tightly my sentence trails off.

  “He did what he did to you because he knew you’d never agree to him staying.” Arnost glances at me and clips his chin toward my head.

  “Did what he did to me?” I ask. “What did he do to me?”

  “Uh, your head.” Arnost points absently toward the base of my skull where an aching knot pulses.

  I touch my fingertips to the spot. “Will did this to me?”

  “He knew you wouldn’t leave him. It was the only way.” Arnost turns his head and licks his front teeth. “He made me promise to get you home, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Stunned to silence that Will would knock me unconscious in order to have me evacuated from the building, the tightening in my chest grows tauter. “He did that?” I say in a breathy whisper.

  “Aye, he did.” Arnost nods.

  Trembling from head to toe, I tuck my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, hugging them close. I lower my forehead. My mind swims in dizzying directions, but all lead down one road, to one place. Will. My friend, whom I’ve come to love as family, is alone and dying in a burnt-out warehouse. And as I am led to that dark and lonely office, a thought comes to mind. My head snaps up and I turn to Arnost. “How long have we been driving?” I demand to know.

  He scratches the scruff on his chin and frowns. “It’s hard to say. I don’t know, more than an hour.”

  “And nothing has happened.” The bomb hasn’t detonated. The sky is not lit with fire and ash. He’s still there. Will is still in the warehouse! “How long was Will going to wait?” I cannot finish my sentence. I can’t utter the words before he detonates the bomb and sacrifices his life to spare mine, and the rest of humankind.

  “He said an hour, but if he’s found or felt his energy slipping, he would do it sooner. He knew he wouldn’t make it, Avery. He’s making the ultimate sacrifice. He’s a hero. Please, I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too—”

  If he’s found? Feel his energy slip away? The thought of Urthmen finding him, bleeding and weak, defenseless to protect himself, sickens me so that I lean forward and feel my stomach pitch. I cough and dry heave. My eyes, moistened by emotion already, tear further. “We need to go back.” I brush a thick curl off my forehead. “Turn the car around, Arnost, we need to go back!”

  He turns and looks at me questioningly.

  “The bomb hasn’t gone off! We need to go back! He could be dead!” My voice fades at the word “dead” but I force myself to continue. “We can’t let him or Andris die for nothing.”

  Arnost meets my gaze. Then he nods and wrenches the steering wheel, accelerating as he does so. The tires object, shrieking in a cloud of smoke, as we go charging back to Kildare.

  Shooting down the two-lane stretch of pavement, I cannot catch my breath. My blood pounds through my body, beating against my skin like the battle drive of a thousand horses.

  But
every reaction storming inside me halts when blinding light rockets upward, purest white and brighter than any I’ve ever seen. Retinas singed, I close my eyes and allow them to tear. I open them after a few seconds in time to see a whirlpool of flames reaching from the heavens like a merciless arm clutching the city of Kildare in a fiery cloud. The world is soaked in blood red, rings of vapor hanging over it like ashen halos of doom as it mushrooms outward, expanding; reaching. A sonic boom growls, rumbling as it shakes the earth beneath our car. Shockwaves snake in every direction. Rocks and debris pelt the car and a rush of energy howls our way with gale force strength. Before long, fat black raindrops fall from the crimson sky, hemorrhaging like beads of destruction as they assail the hood, windshield and trunk. Sully told us that the hydromic nuclear bomb contains its radiation. I hope he’s right. If he’s not, we’re dead.

  “Will did it!” Arnost cries as he stomps on the brakes and slams the car into reverse, struggling to get us as far away from the blast as fast as possible.

  Testing the engine of our vehicle, Arnost steps down hard on the gas petal and we rocket into the bloodshot darkness, away from Kildare, toward home.

  ***

  A full day of driving has passed. We only stopped to fill the gas tank with the last of the two barrels of gasoline Sully stored for us. Ever the optimist, Sully prepared for the event that we might return. He was right to do so, and gave us just enough fuel to return.

  Few words have been exchanged between Arnost and me. What we went through in Kildare, the losses, the pain, will not be soon forgotten. And the blast, in all its vicious glory, has been eternally imprinted in my mind, for my friend was claimed by it, my Will.