Vengeance (29 page)

I snort and motion
for her to grab my walking stick.  No matter what it costs me, I
am determined to face Bastien and his new friends on my own terms.
 Callisto’s grip is firm until I stabilize and then she
takes up the rear behind me, present in case I need her.

I glance down at
Reyes as I pass and feel a pang of regret filter through me.  “What
will happen to him?”

“What happens
to all turncoats.”

I
get the distinct feeling from the sharp edge to her voice that he’s
not about to just get a slap on the wrist and be thrown into a cell
to live out his days.  I look down into his face and a single
tear slips from my eyes.  
I’m
sorry,
I
pray silently then turn my gaze forward and leave him behind.

The corridor is far
brighter than I have ever seen it.  The glow of dozens of laser
guns brightens the space.  From time to time I am forced to lean
against the wall for a moment to catch my breath but each time I
shake off Callisto’s offer for help.  I know that I am
drawing near to the main room.  Although I am afraid to see what
I might find, curiosity pushes me beyond the pain.

The instant I reach
the final bend, Bastien glances up and rushes forward.  He casts
a livid glare at Callisto before wrapping his arm around my back.  “I
got it,” I protest but he doesn’t listen.  Instead
he grips me tighter, refusing to give in.  

A small group of men
part before me, allowing me passage through.  My throat clenches
when I see Donan, Natasha and Vondran kneeling on the floor, their
hands laced behind their heads.  A deep gash runs down Natasha’s
temple.  She looks as if she took the butt of a gun before she
went down.  Donan and Vondran look bruised and beaten but still
conscious.  I’m beginning to doubt that this is a good
thing.

Bastien kicks at the
foot of a soldier before him.  The young man glances back over
his shoulder and pales when he sees me and then rushes to get out of
our way.  “The chair,” Bastien growls, waiting
impatiently for the soldier to dart toward the table and bring back a
seat for me.  

Despite my desire to
remain emotionally indifferent to this coup, I find myself near tears
as I stare at my three former companions.  None of them I was
overly fond of, Natasha least of all, but they took me in when I
needed help.  Like with Hyde and Reyes, I struggle to understand
their motives.

A
tall dark skinned man steps forward into view.  A wide crimson
cloth is tied about his forehead.  A full beard, bushy yet
trimmed recently, makes his face seem fatter than what I suspect it
really is.  His eyes are black and his teeth startlingly white
against his dark skin.  His hair is cropped short, revealing a
wide scar from temple to his throat.  One eye seems to be lazier
than the other and I wonder if this was a birth defect or effect of
an earlier wound.

All eyes are on him,
including mine.  When he speaks I am not surprised to hear a
deep resounding voice come forth.  “We have prisoners,
men.”  He turns in a wide circle, staring at each one in
turn.  “You know our laws.  None are left alive.”

Donan’s jaw
flinches but he gives no other hint of fear.  Vondran on the
other hand reeks of it.  It floods off him in nearly visible
waves.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t have a
wet stain running down his pant leg soon.

I stare at Natasha,
amazed at her stony expression.  For a girl so young I would
have expected terror, pleading, but there is none.  Nothing save
for grim resignation.  I admire that.  In this moment, when
all hope seems to have been lost she does not let fate steal her
conviction.  There will be great honor in her death.

The black man turns
to look at me.  Though his expression gives nothing away I
suspect a hint of a smile.  That smile makes me shiver with
apprehension.  “My name is Hendrix,” he announces to
the group.  “By the power given my by the Assassin's creed
I hereby sentence these men to death.”

Assassin?  As
in the Aegon Assassin Hyde claimed to be?  

I watch as Donan’s
face changes at the man’s words.  He looks livid as he
spits at Hendrix’s feet.  “Traitor!” he
bellows.  “You are not one of--”

His
heads twists around so suddenly I hardly have time to grasp that fact
that Hendrix closed the two foot gap separating them and snapped his
neck.  Donan falls to the floor before me with a thud that
reverberates through my thoughts.  I close my eyes, turning my
face away.

I can hear Vondran’s
muffled protests as Hendrix approaches, unable to speak around the
cloth that has been shoved in his mouth.  “You need to
watch this,” Bastien whispers into my ear, bent low with his
hand upon the back of my chair.

“Why?”  

“Because you
need to learn their ways.  They are brutal but just.”

“Just?”
I hiss, staring at him in disbelief.  “How is this
justice?  No trial?  No judge to pass a sentence.  This
is not justice.  This is murder.”

“No.”  I
cry out at Hendrix’s booming voice beside me.  I glance up
at him, realizing just how tall he is.  He towers over me, at
least a full foot taller than I am.  “I am the judge here.
 It is my right.  We do not take prisoners.  We have
no way to house them, care for them.  Nor do we wish to take on
such a burden.”

He dips down beside
me, his hollow eyes meeting me at eye level.  “I am not a
murderer.  I am a peace keeper.”

I bite back my
retort at the pressure Bastien applies to my shoulder.  Tears
well in my eyes but I do not speak.  He stares at me for another
moment before nodding once and then rises before me.  

With a reflex far
too swift to be human, Hendrix pulls his gun and a red laser slams
into Vondran’s chest.  He is blasted back off his knees,
his skull cracking as he smashes into the cave wall.  He slides
to the ground leaving a wide crimson smear on the wall.

Hendrix
approaches Natasha and I begin to tremble.  
No.
 He can’t possibly be willing to kill her in cold blood!
 She is only a girl!

With
steady, sure steps, Hendrix walks in a wide circle about the girl.
 She holds her head high, her gaze focused on the wall before
her.  Not on the men cat calling around her or the gun still
poised in his hand.  To those she remains bravely indifferent.

“You can’t
do this,” I protest, shoving off Bastien’s restraining
hand.  I try to lift myself off the chair but my arms quiver and
I fall back.  Bastien grabs my chair, holding it firm so that I
don’t topple backward.  Panting, I glance up to see
Hendrix watching me.

“You feel
strongly about the girl?”

I look to Natasha,
surprised to see that she has turned her gaze toward me.  I see
no fear.  No pleading.  Her resignation has melded into
something else...into curiosity.

“Yes,” I
say, clearing my throat.  “I care for her.”

“Interesting,”
Hendrix muses, tapping his laser gun against his leg.  “She
does not seem to care much for you.”

I tilt my head side
to side, shrugging my shoulders.  “That does not matter.
 She is one of my people.  My concern for their wellbeing
extends to her as well.”

Rubbing the edge of
his beard with the butt of his gun, Hendrix seems to think over my
words.  “And if I were to put a gun in her hand and demand
that she take your life to save her own, which do you think she would
choose?”

Bastien stiffens
beside me.  I can feel his rising anger but he holds it in check
for now.  I swallow, feeling as if my throat will close
completely on me at any moment.  “I do not know.  That
would be for her to choose.”

“Indeed.”
 Hendrix glances down at Natasha, now finally positioned in
front of her.  “It’s a shame we won’t have a
chance to find out today.”

My eyes narrow at
the not so subtle message behind his words.  I press my lips
into thin lines, refusing to accept his bait.  Instead, I wait
and watch.

Natasha’s
steady gaze falters for a split second but it is enough for me to
note her surprise at my comment.  Then Hendrix steps between us
and she is lost to me.  He bends over her, appearing to speak in
her ear.  

I
crane my neck to see.  The sound of the laser gun charging sends
a ripple of fear coursing through me.  
I’m
sorry,
I whisper, lowering my gaze.  
I’m
sorry that I couldn’t do more to save you.

I
clench my eyes shut at the sound of the blast.  The sound of
Natasha’s manacles hitting the floor wrenches a cry from my
lips.  Bastien wraps me in his arms, holding me as the tears
come.

Now
everyone is dead.

I swirl my spoon
around the rim of my bowl, not the least bit interested in its
contents.  The smell is getting me.  Death has a funny way
of making you lose your appetite.

Bastien refused to
let me see the bodies as they were removed and taken outside to the
pyres.  He tried to shield me from the horrors, but it was too
late.  Blood has been shed and much of it rests on my hands.
 These people, whether friend or foe, fell today because of me.
 Because of my children.  

I place a hand upon
my belly, feeling my babies stir.  They are cramped, kicking and
punching to claim more space.  I wince at a swift jab to my
kidneys.  

“Feisty ones,
aren’t they?” Bastien mutters, casting a glance over at
me.  His gaze takes in my full bowl of mush.  He said it
was some sort of cooked grain but it looks and tastes like slop fit
to be eaten only by a pig.  I can’t stand the feel of it
on my tongue.  It is far too cold and slimy.  

“They seem to
have a mind of their own,” I smile, feeling wearied to the
bone.  The trek from my room to the main hall really took it out
of me, but I’m glad I made that call.  I needed these
strangers to know that I am not weak.  I lean in as close as my
belly will allow.  “Why are you with these people?”

His brow furrows as
he lowers his knife. It is a long serrated blade which he uses to
peel the flesh from a bright yellow fruit.  Juices run down his
fingers, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he lowers his hands
to look at me.  “They saved my life, Illyria.  They
have weapons, food and shelter.  They also have the numbers that
we need.”

“Need for
what?” I ask.

Bastien sets the
fruit on an empty plate beside me and wipes the blade against his
pants.  The juices make the dark material shine under the
lights.  “They really haven’t told you anything,
have they?”

I ignore the fruit
and push aside my bowl.  What’s the use?  I’m
not about to develop an appetite any time soon with the conversation
that is coming.  “What’s really going on out there?”

Bastien sighs and
sinks back into his chair, his arm slung over the seat back.  “Drach
and his crew weren’t the only ones with a compound.  He
was just the tip of a global army.  They have begun migrating,
heading deeper inland.”

“Why?”

He shrugs.  “Could
be the weather changes?  The planet seems unstable.
 Earthquakes.  Gas eruptions.  You name it.  All
we know is that they are starting to mass together and they outnumber
us at least 100 to 1.  If they come against us we won’t
stand a chance in a fair fight.”

I suck in a breath
and clasp tighter to my belly, wondering why I get the distinct
feeling that Bastien would be more than willing to consider engaging
in a less than fair battle.  “And the Duturi?” I
question, unable to say Hyde’s name attached with it.  “What
was their role?”

Bastien flips his
blade, catching it between his fingers before flipping it again.
 “The best we can figure was that they were going to
barter you and your children for passage off this rock.”

He pushes the plate
toward me, staring at me with great intent.  I sigh and lift the
fruit and sink my teeth into it.  The flesh is soft and sweet.
 Juices drip from the corners of my mouth but I take another
bite, just to make him happy.  His gaze shifts again and I
wonder if he is content with my efforts as I set the fruit back down,
wiping the juice from my mouth.

“Donan…”
I wince as his head whips around and I rush to correct my slip as his
eyes narrow with anger.  “Sorry.  I meant to say that
their leader told me that this planet is fueled by an energy source
and that it’s not nearly ready to die out.”

Bastien snickers and
shakes his head.  “Their leader was a fool.  Look
around you; this place is about to implode.  Everyone knows it.”

I cast a furtive
glance at the men who huddle together at the rear of the room.  They
are dressed similarly to Hendrix, with smears of mud across their
face.  I’m not sure if this is done to avoid detection or
if their trek through the swamp was really that messy.

“How do we
know we can trust them?” I whisper.

Bastien leans in
toward me.  He reaches out his hand and places it against my
cheek.  “Would I ever knowingly put you in danger?”

“No,” I
smile, knowing that it is only a half-smile, forced for his benefit.
 I know that Bastien would give his life for me but I can’t
shake the feeling that there is something undeniably off about
Hendrix, but if Hyde was so easily able to manipulate me I will
really have to be on my guard around Hendrix.  “Of course
not.”

His fingers flinch
against my cheek and for the briefest moment I think that he wants to
pull me close for a kiss but the moment passes and he sits back.  He
pushes my bowl toward me and rises.  “I have to check on
the preparations.  Once this place is stripped down we will be
ready to leave.”

“Leave for
where?”

He smiles.  “Our
new home.”

What Bastien called
a home is nothing more than a huge building on wheels.  Wheels
that, as I guessed from staring down through the grate in the floor
of the tunnel in Drach’s treetop compound, are nearly double my
height.  The boxy vehicle that I am helped up into is one of
nearly twenty in our convoy, though I have a feeling there may even
be more than that.  I can’t imagine how they are able to
move through the swamps without detection.