Warden's Fate

by Tony James Slater

  She kept them still for a long minute, before closing her fist to signal the advance. He longed to ask her a whole stack of questions; who exactly was out there, how she’d known about it, what her plan was — but she’d made it clear that this was not the place for idle chit-chat. Instead, he focussed on the environment they were moving through, straining to spot anything out of the ordinary.

  It was tough, though. His mind kept veering off, churning through endless questions about what he’d just done. What had he done? Was it even possible? Or had he been hallucinating? Still being in one piece kind of put the kibosh on that one… Maybe Ella had something to do with it? If she was watching, maybe she’s got some secret tech in her kit bag, that could… do what, exactly?

  He shook his head. Focus, damn it!

  The assassin was still out there. Maybe she was injured, and maybe not, but he knew from past experience that they healed fast. He was trying to move as silently as possible, but he winced at every crackling step he took. With enhanced hearing, along with God knows what other upgrades, the Priestess wouldn’t have to work hard to find them. Not any more…

  Damn it! Ella was right. I should have stayed out of this. One-on-one, she probably had a much better chance. I’m slowing her down, giving her position away, becoming another target for her to protect.

  With a sinking feeling, he realised that Ella would do anything to save him. Her bizarre infatuation with him was a massive ego-boost — until it came to this.

  Life and death… and she promised Askarra she wouldn’t let anything happen to me.

  There was no doubt in his mind.

  If he was attacked again, she wouldn’t hesitate; she’d give her own life to save his.

  They were following a game trail, with the undergrowth rising more impenetrably on either side of them. When they reached a trio of slender trees splitting the path, Ella drew his attention downward. She sent a faint pulse of energy through her gauntlet, and the tiny shimmer of light revealed a tripwire, stretched at ankle-height between two of the trees. Nodding significantly at the trap, she led him around it.

  A short distance further down the track she stopped, crouching down and reaching her free hand into the foliage beside them. Taking a grip on something, she raised up what seemed to be a latticework of branches and leaves. Her eyes directed him to climb in, so he did, as carefully as possible. Laying on his stomach on a bed of leaves, he could just about make out the gap between the trees they’d come though. She slid in after him, lowering the canopy until a small chunk of log propped it up scant inches above their heads. She laid her rifle in front of her, aiming back up the trail.

  “First rule of warfare,” she breathed in his ear. “Make the enemy come to you.”

  She squirmed a little to get comfy, rubbing her body against his in the process.

  It felt delicious, and more importantly, it felt safe. Tris let out a long, slow breath. Some of the tension he was feeling flowed out with it. Left behind was nervous exhaustion, tinged with shock…

  And grief.

  “She blew up the shuttle,” Tris whispered, his voice going thick with emotion. “Kreon was… I think he was still inside.”

  Ella looked at him then, and her eyes radiated sympathy. “Oh, Tris! I heard the explosion. I’m so sorry. I told you I should have stayed away. It was always going to happen like this, eventually. Now all your friends are in peril too.”

  “But we can take her! I already got her once. It was a bit weird, but I managed to fight her off.”

  “I saw. I was trying to get a shot in, but these rifles aren’t good enough at long range to overcome their armour.” She smiled, and touched his shoulder. “And I couldn’t risk hitting you.”

  “Thanks for that,” he said. “But I’m serious — we can win this. She was tough, but if she’s already injured from fighting me…” he trailed off, as he saw the tightness in Ella’s mouth.

  The look of sympathy returned to her eyes. “We’ll try, of course. But revealing herself like that, attacking the shuttle and then you… It’s not in the playbook. Not before she’s marked her primary target. Except under one circumstance.” She sighed, a tiny sound that chilled Tris’ blood nevertheless. “She’s not alone, Tris. I underestimated just how badly the Priesthood want me punished. I knew that before too long, they’d find a high-enough level operative to take me out. What I didn’t anticipate, is that they would send two.”

  26

  Shame gnawed at Kyra as she fled through the forest.

  Bleeding, exhausted, and already feeling the toxin spreading through her system, she stormed through the undergrowth in a murderous temper.

  She was being forced to face a hard truth; she was no match for the assassin.

  She’d spent years mastering the ancient art of Arranozapar. Decades. And she’d been fighting almost constantly since the age of fourteen…

  It didn’t matter.

  Becoming a genetically engineered killing machine was cheating as far as she was concerned, but that didn’t make them any less lethal.

  Enhanced senses, reflexes and strength, matched with an endless repertoire of exotic war-gear, had made Evie damn near invincible.

  Cutting her arms off had been a mistake. Those white-hot blades she’d built into the replacements, possibly made from giant worm hide, had largely neutralised Kyra’s main advantage. Being trained to resist the Gift had taken care of the other one. Woman for woman, Kyra knew she was better. In anything resembling a fair fight, she would have handed Evie her ass — in pieces.

  But assassins weren’t known for fighting fair.

  When Evie had revealed herself inside Nightshade, the damage to her face had been obvious. Still, a little cosmetic maiming wouldn’t slow her down; Kyra’s first instinct had been to get the hell out of there. Fighting in such close confines really cramped her style — to say nothing of the damage it would do to the shuttle.

  And to Lukas.

  As she ran, she prayed to every god she’d ever believed in. It was a short list, but if any of them could keep Lukas alive, she’d develop religion on the spot.

  Please… not him too. Not now…

  She used to joke that casualties came in threes. Sharki’s Marauders had hated her black humour, always teasing them about who was going next — mercs were an oddly superstitious bunch. But she’d been armouring herself against loss for a long time now.

  Sometimes it worked better than others.

  Kyra still hadn’t figured out how Evie left the shuttle. But the next thing she’d seen of her was a tiny dart she’d pulled from the skin of her neck.

  Serves me right for wearing a tank-top. Tris would be laughing his ass off.

  In truth, Tris was frantically scrabbling at her mind, trying to find out if she was ‘okay’.

  She was not okay.

  She was pissed off.

  Which is why she shut him out as best she could, leaving the kid to sort his own shit out rather than flinging himself into hers. Now, part of her regretted that. Tris was pretty handy in a fight, and Evie hated him as much as she hated Kyra. Together, they might have stood a much better chance of spoiling the assassin’s dinner plans.

  Sadly, pride also played a part in Kyra’s decision-making paradigm. And she’d been damned if she was going to beg for anyone else’s help against Evelyn Fitzgerald.

  Not after what she’d done to Sharki. And now to Lukas…

  My fight. And I’ll finish it.

  If only she could figure out how.

  Some kind of psychic shockwave brought her up short. She glanced in the direction it had come from; back to the village, as far as she could figure it. She cursed under her breath. Were there more enemies back there? Had someone found another of Kreon’s toys?

  She reached out for Tristan, more to make sure he was still alive than anything. If Demios had dropped in the way Evie had, they were all in deep shit.

  But no. Tris was alive, and moaning to himself about something. He’d been
in a fight as far as she could tell, but she kept her touch light. Now was not a good time for gossip.

  Not with her Gift running on empty. Even controlling the Arranozapar was a stretch right now, the legacy of chatting with that damn Siszar. Kyra needed every ounce of concentration she could muster for when Evie caught up with her — something which was depressingly inevitable.

  Genetically-engineered bitches! I bet she can fight all day in heels, and still not ruin her make-up.

  But at least Kyra still had all her hair; she spared a microscopic thought to dampen the flamboyant rainbow, picking a more appropriate black with blood-red streaks.

  This feels right. I’ll get her, Sharki. Just you watch.

  But as she set off again, Kyra felt her certainty ebbing away with her strength. Whatever that dart had injected, it was starting to mess with her balance. Kyra had given herself a handful of upgrades over the years, and she didn’t rely solely on her nervous system to stay upright, but it was a pretty good indicator of worse to come.

  Guess I’m lucky she’s such a sadist.

  Any other assassin would have filled the dart with something fatal, and that would have been the end of it.

  Pressing on, keeping her unsteady legs moving through the bush, Kyra tried to plan for the next encounter. Evie’s speed, and the indestructible blades attached to her arms, made hand-to-hand combat a pain in the arse. As well as in the thigh, and in the back, which were the two places Evie had cut her before she’d managed to get away. Those injuries throbbed as she ran, the pain spurring her on even as it sapped her strength further.

  Traps? Kyra thought, and immediately dismissed the idea. No time, no materials. High ground? There were trees all around her, but getting stuck up one with Evie waiting at the bottom wasn’t an appealing option.

  Explosion? She’d heard one a short time ago, and hoped it wasn’t Nightshade. But short of doubling back to her shuttle and rifling through the equipment lockers, she had nothing. Yet another downside to wearing skinny jeans. They look great, but where the hell do Earth chicks keep their grenades?

  All that was really left was hiding… and with an assassin of Evie’s calibre on her tail, that didn’t seem like it would end well. Kyra’s eye upgrades gave her pretty decent night-vision; she could be sure the Priestess model would be better.

  Ugh! Only one thing for it…

  Cursing inwardly, she let her mind brush against Tristan’s again, to reorient herself in his direction. Help was at hand, and ridiculously nearby. It meant swallowing a chunk of pride the size of her own head, but it would be kind of dumb to let herself get killed five minutes away from the rest of her team. She couldn’t sense Kreon, but she didn’t have the spare attention to look for him.

  Tris, however, was wide awake and waiting for her to call.

  Kyra! Come to us. Ella’s here.

  Great, she thought, without sending it to him. Her fault we’re in this mess anyway. If she’s so damn hot for her sister, maybe they can settle this with a pillow fight.

  She changed course, doubling back on herself whilst hoping fervently that she’d encounter Tris and Ella before she did Evie.

  There are way too many assassins wandering around these woods!

  Many a true word is spoken in jest; the thought had barely crossed her mind when a flash of lethal intent reached her flagging Gift.

  Throwing herself into a roll, Kyra felt the breeze as a projectile of some sort whizzed through the space where her head had been. The ground was hard and lumpy, the shrubs and grasses doing little to soften it, but she was back on her feet with both Arranozapar extended by the time her attacker appeared.

  Powerful and muscular, wearing a sleek black bodysuit, this woman could only be one thing.

  Evie brought back-up? That didn’t seem like her.

  And Kyra could read this girl’s mind, whereas most Priestesses had been trained to resist it.

  Actually… her mind is damaged, she realised. Broken, somehow…

  At that moment, the girl launched herself at Kyra. A slim black sword was in her grip; she wielded it two-handed, with a ferocity that matched the wildness in her head.

  She’s gone nuts, Kyra thought, slapping the sword away with her own. Ah well. Guess this counts as putting her out of her misery then.

  And with a ripple of the Arranozapar, she sent their sinuous blades curling in to take the assassin’s head clean off. The body crumpled to the ground, pumping its blood into the concealing undergrowth.

  You’re welcome, Kyra told her. Now why can’t you all die that easily?

  She approached the corpse, not bothering to look for the head. She’d learned a few things about these Priestesses over her last few engagements, and one of them held out hope for her continued survival. She was feeling woozier by the minute, but if she was lucky there was a cure within reach. The first time Evie had nearly killed her, in the dungeons beneath Atalia, Ella had sneakily administered a dose of some miraculous liquid that members of the Priesthood carried at all times. It had helped Kyra recover from injuries that would definitely have killed her.

  Come to think of it, I don’t know if I ever thanked her for that.

  Evie had stored vials of the healing serum in her cuffs, in purpose-built compartments. Kyra glanced around as she crouched down; this was an essential task, but she didn’t want it to be the one that got her killed. She fumbled with the assassin’s gauntlets, not daring to take her attention off her surroundings. There was no obvious catch she could find, and the gauntlets flowed seamlessly into the suit’s sleeves. But she did notice the girl wore a backpack; a slimline case, fitted perfectly to the curve of her spine, it could probably be worn beneath loose clothing without being obvious.

  That’s my bag, baby! Kyra loosened the straps that held it in place and pulled it free, but she didn’t have time to go through its contents. So long as the healing agent was in there, she was home free. Or maybe not quite, but it was a damn good start. But if it was stored somewhere else…

  Well, shit. She took aim and made two swift cuts, one at each elbow. The gauntlets, forearms and all, went into the backpack. At least, most of them did; it wasn’t a huge bag, so the hands were doomed to stick out of the top, flopping around like twisted little flags as she shrugged it on.

  If Evie could see me now… She smiled at the thought. I’d say, ‘Hands off!’

  She managed to avoid any further trouble, reaching the area where her contact with Tris had placed them.

  Not that way! he came into her mind suddenly. Ella’s put a tripwire between those trees. Move over left and come through there.

  She found time to set traps? Kyra responded wearily. Why am I not surprised?

  A small portion of the ground cover opened up in front of her, and Ella rolled smoothly out. The assassin was already on her feet and scanning the area with her rifle by the time Tris wriggled out after her.

  “No sense in staying hidden,” Ella explained. “With all of us in one place, the heat signature will be strong enough to read from orbit.”

  “Your sister’s here,” Kyra told her.

  Ella nodded gravely. “I was afraid of that. She’s found you through me.” She stalked a few steps away, giving Tris and Kyra space to catch up whilst keeping watch on their surroundings.

  Kyra went first. “Where’s Kreon?”

  Pain clouded Tristan’s face. “The assassins blew up the shuttle. I think he was inside it.”

  “Sydon’s Name!” She shook her head in disgust. “But Kreon’s a tough old bastard. Don’t write him off yet.”

  Tris didn’t look convinced. “I can’t sense him, but maybe I’m too far away. My Gift is drained.”

  “Me too, kid. Remind me next time; no long-distance calls in Siszar space. They cost too much.” She was trying to boost his morale as well as propping up her own, and she was rewarded with a snort that was half a chuckle. “Where’s Lukas?” he asked.

  Kyra looked away. “Evie got him. I hope he’s okay,
but… I think he’s gone.”

  “Holy shit.”

  She could see fresh shock registering on the boy’s face.

  “So we’re all that’s left?”

  She reached out and ruffled his hair, appalled at how much effort that cost her. “Meh. We’re the best ones, anyway.”

  The humour was all for show. Internally, Kyra’s mind was reeling. The loss of Kreon, after everything they’d been through together, was too much to comprehend. She pushed it out of her head. No sense opening that door. Wallowing in grief would be a spectacularly shitty way to spend her last five minutes of life.

  Instead, she focussed on the present. “You said assassins? Plural?”

  Tris bobbed his head. “Ella knows their strategy. The only time a Priestess reveals herself is if there’s another one you didn’t know about.”

  Kyra dropped the backpack off her shoulders. “I think I solved that problem.” She held out a grisly trophy.

  Tris stared, his eyes wide. “Holy shit! Did you cut that girl’s arm off?”

  Kyra raised the severed limb in protest. “I know, I know! It’s a filthy habit, and I’m trying to quit.”

  Tris looked pointedly at the other hand sticking out of the backpack, but Kyra ignored him. She turned to Ella. “Hey, I was hoping to lay my hands on some more of that healing serum.” She held the arm out. “Any chance there’s some in here?”

  Ella gave her only a cursory glance, before reaching out and tapping something on the dead assassin’s cuff. With a tiny click, a hatch opened in the wrist area. Kyra twisted the gauntlet to see, and sure enough a small vial was tucked up inside a secret compartment. She tipped it out into her palm, then tossed the arm away. It didn’t go very far; she was getting weaker by the minute.