The vial was filled with a deceptively colourless liquid.
“Will it stop this… whatever it is she’s shot me full of?”
Ella looked back at her, her brow furrowing. “You were hit?”
“Just a dart,” Kyra said.
Ella studied her critically. “No. The potion won’t help you. But Evie’s toxin is harmless by itself. She uses it to slow down her targets so she can have more fun with them.”
“Have I mentioned how much I love your sister? She’s just a barrel of laughs.” Kyra could feel herself shaking now, and knew that her ability to kick ass was severely compromised. “How long do the effects last?”
“They’ll get worse until you pass out, but you’ll sleep them off.”
Kyra cursed. “In what world am I going to sleep them off? Unless you fancy stepping in and taking care of my little problem for me?”
Ella looked back at her, a rare flash on anger crossing her face. “You’re asking me to kill my own sister for you.”
“Damn straight I am! I’d do the same for you, if I could.”
Ella raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Really? You’d kill your sister for me?”
Kyra rolled her eyes. Even that was hard work. “Hell no! I’d kill your sister for you.”
A wry smile decorated Ella’s lips, and she reached up to tuck a loose strand of red ringlets behind her ear. “I don’t think either of us is getting much choice in the matter.”
Beckoning them to follow her, Ella led them a short distance through the trees. They reached a small clearing where a large, craggy boulder rose up from the forest floor.
“Secret hideout?” Kyra quipped. “I know you people have those things stashed all over the place.”
“‘Fraid not,” Ella said, waving them back against the wall of rock. “It’s something to put our backs up against, nothing more. Though there’s a slight overhang down there,” she pointed with her bare hand. “Tris, is there anything…?”
Tris stepped forward and crouched down to check. As he did so, Ella slipped behind him and pressed her hand to his neck. Tris startled for a second, then his body went limp and he slid to the ground, unconscious.
Kyra’s jaw fell open. What the hell? “Hey!” she said, probably a little too loud for their circumstances. “Did you just—?”
Ella turned to her, a sad look on her face. She held up a dart identical to the one Kyra had pulled from her neck. “Don’t worry, I don’t fill mine with poison either. But I prefer my dose to be fast-acting.”
Kyra stared at Tristan’s prone form in horror. “Are you out of your mind? He can’t defend himself like that!”
“He won’t need to,” she said softly. “I made Evie promise not to harm him. And the other Priestess is only after me; she won’t kill him, if he doesn’t get in her way.”
Kyra’s eyes narrowed, as understanding came to her. “You don’t think you can win.”
Ella raised her free hand; the other was clad in shimmering steel. “Can you beat my sister? The Priesthood doesn’t make mistakes. They choose the agent based on the target. They’re very good at it.”
“Even with one down?” Kyra pressed her. “Surely that evens the odds?”
“It may,” Ella conceded. “In which case, Tris will wake up and we’ll all go home. But my life has been geared towards preventing happily-ever-afters. At least this way, he’ll survive regardless.”
“He still could have helped us,” Kyra muttered.
“No,” Ella said, her tone firm. “I made a promise to keep him safe. This is the only way I can fulfil it.”
Kyra looked down at Tris again; he was sprawled on a bed of leaves, right up against the base of the boulder. “He won’t thank you for it,” she warned.
That elicited a genuine smile from the assassin. “If I live through the next ten minutes, I’ll make it up to him.”
“Ugh!” The noise came out weaker than planned. She was fading fast. “Not in my shuttle you won’t. Kids these days…”
“I’m older than you,” Ella reminded her.
“Not for much longer.”
Well, shit. As Kyra’s mind began to lose its battle with unconsciousness, one thought swam to the surface. She was on the level the whole time. She really must love him. She winced. Have loved him… past tense. At least getting killed means I won’t have to listen to ‘I told you so.’
Ella’s appraisal turned out to be optimistic. They didn’t need to wait nearly ten minutes.
There was no sound announcing their doom; just a new degree of tension in the air.
“Evie’s here,” Ella whispered. “I can smell her.”
Kyra struggled to come up with a witty response — never a good sign — and then the words died on her tongue, as Evelyn Fitzgerald slipped out of the forest.
Shiny pink scar tissue covered the left side of her face, the visible legacy of their fight on the jungle world. Seeing it gave Kyra the tiniest mote of satisfaction; Evie wasn’t invulnerable after all.
And that must have hurt like hell.
The assassin nodded at Kyra, a malicious little grin wrinkling the scalded flesh. But then she looked at Ella, and her mouth hardened. “Why?” she hissed. “When we had everything we could possibly want?”
Ella’s head moved a fraction. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“A boy?” Evie made the word into a curse. “I hope he was worth it.”
Ella gave a microscopic shrug. “I wanted love. And you were always filled with hate.”
Evie snarled in disgust. She held her arms out, and those fearsome blades slid smoothly into place. The air surrounding them began to shimmer, and a second later their edges glowed white hot.
“Of all the traitorous heads I’ve taken back to Atla-Ra, I never thought yours would be one.”
Ella twitched her fingers, and a ridiculously small knife appeared in one hand. Pale as bone, the jagged thing looked more like a find from an archaeological dig than a weapon. “You can’t beat me, big sister,” she said.
Evie nodded once, a sharp, hawkish move. “You’re right. But they can.”
And two slender figures emerged from the trees, taking up positions either side of Evie.
Kyra’s jaw dropped.
I killed one. I definitely killed one. So… what? Shit. I guess they sent three of them.
Ella’s breath caught audibly in the same moment. Kyra didn’t need to look at her to feel her shock; the wall around her thoughts had been shaken loose by the revelation.
No, she was repeating, over and over. It can’t be…
But that was all Kyra could spare the attention for. The last spike of adrenaline her drugged system could muster was making the blood rush loudly in her ears.
Sadly, it couldn’t do much for the lead in her limbs.
So this is how it ends. She wrenched her mind into sync with the crystals in her swords, but it kept wandering off on its own. Wonder if I’ll see Sharki again? Maybe even Blas? And Lukas… if that fat bastard had the decency to die. If he’s still alive, I’m gonna haunt the shit out of him.
And then Evie struck.
Kyra never even saw her move.
The assassin to Evie’s left staggered back, sliced open from chin to navel, as the second glowing blade plunged into her heart.
Her colleague on the other side also reacted with blinding speed. Two black swords punched through Evie’s back, coming out through her chest in a spray of blood. Evie hung transfixed on the blades for a moment, staggering as they were removed. They stabbed in a second time, one then the other then the first again, a tempo so rapid and powerful that no ordinary human could have pulled it off.
Yet even in the space between heartbeats, there was time. Evie’s backswing would have been child’s play to block, and the other Priestess did precisely that. Except, like all good assassins, Evie didn’t play by the rules. Her white-hot blade sliced through her opponent’s weapon like it wasn’t there, and carried on deep into her shoulder.
Kyra looked on, her mouth sagging open.
She’d barely had the chance to breathe.
The entire ‘fight’ had been over in less than five seconds.
Woozily, swaying, she made her way over to where Ella had dropped to kneel beside her sister.
Evie had landed on her back, her legs curled up awkwardly. Her chest was a ruin. Blood still flowed from the wounds, but it was clear that most of it was gone already. Kyra could tell straight away that there was no hope; her internal organs must have been shredded. At first glance she looked dead, but then her eyes snapped open and fixed on her sister. Defiance was in them, and in every line of her face. But the wetness glistening on her cheeks was not blood.
“You see?” she spat, as Ella cradled her head. “I do love you.”
And she died.
27
Tris woke up in the Folly’s medical ward, mightily confused.
The good news was, he didn’t hurt. A cursory glance under the sheet revealed several pristine dressings applied with mechanical precision over the wounds he’d suffered in the attack on the village. And in the forest afterwards…
What the hell happened?
His mind had recovered too, sharp and responsive where it had been fogged and straining before. In fact, as he cast his thoughts around the ward, he could feel everything; scalpels and tables and the long robotic arms extending from the ceiling. It wasn’t like they had thoughts of their own, or life or anything — just that he could sort of feel the edges, where various hard objects pushed up against one another.
Hm. Very strange.
Several people were stretched out in beds to either side of him, in various dream-like states. Sleeping minds were always harder to find, he’d noticed; particularly those in the deep sleep of anaesthesia.
Thus, it took him a while to find Lukas. The big man lay at the far end of the ward, his mental presence so low it was like the background hum of the power generators, vibrating almost imperceptibly. Still alive? Tris thought so. A medically-induced coma seemed like the obvious answer. Guess he won’t be tackling Demios after all.
It was an odd thought to have, but now that Tris was awake his mind was exploding with questions, and churning through lists of possible answers faster than he could follow.
All at once, he realised what had happened in the forest.
Ella had drugged him.
She knew she was going to die, and wanted to spare him the pain of watching it.
And yet he found Kyra right here, lying in the next bed. How had she’d survived, given the state she’d been in? Had she passed out too?
Leaving Ella to take on Evie as well as whoever the Priestesses had sent after her…
The breath caught in his chest as he came to a horrible, gut-wrenching conclusion.
She saved us all. And must have been killed in the process. Just like she said.
He felt detached from his body, as shock turned his blood to ice.
No… she can’t be gone! She can’t…
But she wasn’t there. Wasn’t anywhere nearby, that he could sense. Questing further, he found the Folly teaming with life. Computer analysts and systems techs and supply-coordinators were moving around, all going about their day. He didn’t feel an overwhelming pall of sadness from anyone, but there wouldn’t be, would there?
No-one mourns for assassins.
Except him.
His breath caught again, and he sobbed.
With a rustle of blankets, Kyra turned over. “Ella’s fine, you big baby,” she moaned. “Now quit thinking so damn loud! You’re giving me a headache.”
“What?” Tris snapped around to look at her, though a flimsy white screen prevented him from seeing her. “Where is she? I can’t sense her.”
Kyra stifled a yawn. “Could you ever?”
“No.”
“See? Fine. I mean, she’s not thrilled to be burying her sister, but I think she saw it coming.”
“Burying her…?” The pieces fell into place at last. Ella won?
“Nope, wrong again.” Kyra sounded a bit smug about it. “Evie won, as it happens. Only, she decided to ‘bat for the other team’. Is that how you say it?”
Tris choked. “I guess, so long as you’re not referring to her sexual preferences…”
He felt Kyra’s confusion, quickly squashed. “Damn, kid! You and Ella really are perfectly matched. Now shut up and let me get some beauty sleep.”
Tris lay back on the bed, an overwhelming sense of relief flooding through him. Keeping his thoughts small for Kyra’s sake, he snaked them down to the planet below in search of his lover. He didn’t find her, but he did find both Kreon and Lord Balentine, sitting in a meeting with some of the villagers. He’s alive! The wave of giddiness broke his concentration, and he was staring back at the medical ward’s light fittings again.
“Sydon’s Name!” Kyra cursed. “There’s no getting sleep when you’re around, is there? Everyone’s alive, Tris. Okay? Except for Evelyn Fitzgerald, which I can’t say I’m gutted about. Lukas is touch-and-go, but we pumped him full of that healing potion so his chances are good. He might even lose a bit of weight and wake up insecure about it, if we’re lucky.”
Tris wished he could look her in the face. Chatting through a sheet was most disconcerting. “I thought you two were okay now?”
“Yeah. Good point.” Kyra sounded thoughtful. “Maybe instead of giving him shit, I should just give you twice as much?”
“Ah, no, that’s okay,” Tris back-pedalled. “So what happened to Kreon?”
He heard the sheets rustle as she turned over again. “I dunno. They found him by the longhouse. I’d say the Aegis saved him from the blast, but I don’t think it saved him from flying head-first into a stone wall. The village healer pulled a bunch of shrapnel out of him. He was remarkably cheerful about the whole thing.”
Tris chuckled. “Now I know you’re lying.”
“Nope — honest truth. I’ve known him a lot longer than you, and nothing improves his mood like a near-death experience. I think losing Sera got him questioning his own mortality, but that mean old bastard is impossible to kill.”
“Huh. So is he psyching himself up to fight Demios?”
“No idea. I haven’t talked to him since before the shuttle blew.”
“Should I ask him?”
“You can’t. He’s down on the planet.”
Tris opened his mouth to correct her, then thought better of it. That was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to. Something had happened to him back there, and he didn’t know what — but the changes to his Gift were growing all the more obvious.
Whatever this is, it’s saved my life at least once. I may be a half-human freak, but I’m a lucky one.
Tris dozed on and off for the next couple of hours, surprised at how tired he was until he remembered how little sleep he’d had before both battles. None of his injuries were bothering him, and the medical talos periodically administered fresh painkillers and changed his dressings. When he woke to the sound of Kyra fastening her combat boots, he leapt up quick so as not to be left alone in the ward. The other beds were empty now, the few villagers that he’d sensed around him must have been fit enough to leave. They were probably waiting on a return trip to the planet, although he wouldn’t blame them if they wanted to stay. Life on the Folly, whilst confining and sterile compared to open fields and forests, had to be preferable to what they were used to.
In the last bed, Lukas snoozed on. A frame held the sheets off his chest; Tris didn’t dare look beneath them. All Kyra would say is that it looked bad, and that Evie had been responsible.
Yet another reason she wasn’t cut up about her death.
They made for the nearest mess hall — there was one on most levels of th
e Folly, though few of them saw much use. The one nearest the med centre had been stocked with the basics though, and rather than prepare anything complex they grabbed a handful of ration bars each and sat down to munch on them.
“Holy shit,” Kyra said, after demolishing her first bar in three bites. “I needed that. I can’t believe how many times in the last few hours I thought I was done for.”
Tris ‘Mmm’d’ his agreement, chewing an oversized mouthful.
“That planet down there,” Kyra stabbed the table with a finger for emphasis, “is a fucking death trap. I’m so glad we decided to come here.”
Tris swallowed and took a slurp of cold water. It felt better than fine wine to his parched throat — not that he’d have known fine wine if he’d tasted it. “I still can’t believe the Empress tricked us like that,” he said between mouthfuls. “She thought it was a great plan. She was very impressed with herself.”
Kyra seemed to ponder this for a moment. Then she plucked the half-eaten ration bar from his fingers, held it up in front of him, and threw it on the floor.
“Hey! What’d you do that for?”
She shrugged. “Dunno. But you didn’t try too hard to save it.” She leaned in closer. “That’s all humans are to her, Tris! Remember that. She feels a bond with us, because we rescued her from Admiral Benin’s tender mercies, but make no doubt; we’re a lesser form of life to her. It’s hard to make a comparison because as far as sentient species go, we’re always the lowest. Almost every other race is more advanced than we are. Like the Kharash, who made us. They were profoundly psychic. Our Gift is really their Gift, to us. But they had all kinds of mental powers, if the legends are to be believed.”
Tris tucked that nugget of information away to think about later. “How many other races are there?”
Kyra sat back and tore the wrapping off another ration bar. “A few. Kreon would know best. Most live further out, and don’t have much to do with us. But we should make the best of the alliances we have. The Empress has saved our asses a bunch of times, so I think we’ll forgive her little ruse. Besides, we’re still stuck in the middle of Siszar space, unless you haven’t noticed? Good luck getting out of here without an escort.”
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