The Fury Yet To Come Page 11

  He rolled on the ground, heavy feet stomping behind him. He clutched at a rock—no, a bone—and hurled it at the kiro.

  It struck him in the face, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—he just kept on coming.

  The acid-etching of the kiro’s sword shimmered amidst the shadows. Gallows moved to deflect it—but his opponent feinted, leaving Gallows open.

  The tip of the blade pierced his left bicep.

  Searing pain burning his arm, Gallows retreated. He tripped and fell hard onto a bed of bones. The kiro pounced and aimed the blade point at Gallows’ throat. A bloodcurdling cry, and—

  And the kiro fell, twisting onto his back.

  Helmsley towered over Gallows, clutching a skull in his two shaking hands.

  The Idari grunted.

  ‘Hit him again!’ cried Gallows.

  Screaming, Helmsley mashed the skull into the kiro’s face again and again, turning it into a mess of bloody meat. Still on his back, Gallows kicked the sword from the warrior’s hands. The kiro rasped and squirmed, wild hands and feet grasping at air.

  Then the kiro stopped struggling.

  Helmsley kept hammering at him, the skull landing with wet thumps. It split and crumbled to dust in his hands.

  Damien illuminated the room with an ignium lamp. The floor around him was littered with bodies. With barely a hair out of place, he marched across the crypt and said, ‘Clear.’

  Gallows and Helmsley followed. For the first time in weeks, Gallows felt fresh, warm air on his skin. ‘We’re near an exit.’ Gallows quickened his pace—his pulse followed suit. ‘I can feel the air on my—’

  When they rounded the corner, Nidra was there.

  VI

  She stood at the far end of a tunnel, pacing by an iron gate. The whistle of a breeze played through its bars. Her movements were jittery; her wrists rubbed at her sides, her shoulders rose and fell.

  Then she turned as still as one of the saints in the crypt.

  ‘Dog.’ The word rang like the pluck of a harp string. She faced Gallows—tides of acid sloshed in his belly at the sight of her.

  ‘Get back,’ he urged Damien. ‘Turn back, both of you.’

  ‘The exit isn’t far,’ said Damien.

  ‘I’ll catch up.’

  ‘Gallows…’ Helmsley’s voice stuttered. ‘She lured us here…’

  ‘No she didn’t. She’s a rat in a trap. Hear that, witch? Your kiro is dead.’

  She wore a shark’s grin. ‘Pawns—I am the queen.’

  ‘I can neutralise her,’ Damien offered.

  ‘No—she’ll get inside your head as soon as you’re close. That’s how she does it—she’s gotta get close enough to touch you.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ Helmsley asked in a whisper.

  ‘Had a lot of time to think about it.’

  Nidra’s eyes roamed over Damien. ‘There is power in this one.’ She tried to conceal it behind her wicked smile, but she was scared—Gallows could sense it.

  Damien stepped closer.

  Without taking his eyes from the Perceptor, Gallows shot his arm out. ‘If she gets inside your head, we’re all dead.’

  ‘I’m unarmed.’

  ‘That ain’t as reassuring as you think. Get out. Find another tunnel—Phadrosi castles were full of ’em. Take Helmsley.’

  Damien must have sensed the weight in Gallows’ words, because he withdrew without protest.

  ‘You wish to die here, dog?’ Nidra asked when Damien disappeared with Helmsley. ‘Down here, so far from home—from Sera?’

  Gallows raised his sword.

  ‘A pity, how weak you ended up.’

  ‘Strong enough to break your curse,’ Gallows countered.

  She was a good distance away, but Gallows saw the corners of Nidra’s mouth turn down.

  Gallows stepped closer. The walls ruptured.

  Nidra tilted her head. ‘How do you know this isn’t exactly what I want?’

  ‘You’re scared, Grand Perceptor. No allies, no weapons.’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I appear to have underestimated your rescuer.’

  ‘You underestimated me.’ Gallows was so close to her, he could smell her sickly scent.

  ‘You have no idea what this place is, do you?’

  ‘Your tomb.’

  Nidra’s eyes glinted. ‘It’s much more than a resting place for the dead. Quite the opposite, in fact. This place birthed new life into this world.’

  Gallows stepped closer. ‘I ain’t interested in your riddles, Nidra.’ The sword grazed her throat.

  Her lips parted like an open wound. ‘As soon as your troops breach these walls, I will turn them against each other, dog. You know it—yet you can’t kill me, can you? We’re connected, you and I. You feel it, I know you do. I don’t need to reach into your mind to know that you won’t let me perish here. Come with me. I can show you a world of wonder, Tyson Gallows. I can unravel this world’s secrets for you, show you things you would not believe. Damn this war and everyone in it! We can leave. Right now. Just you and I.’

  Bricks tore from the ceiling. The floor quaked.

  ‘Your bombs are falling upon us,’ hissed Nidra. ‘Neither of us needs to die.’

  ‘You do,’ said Gallows. ‘The things you did to me… Made me do… You can’t be allowed to live.’

  Nidra angled her head up. ‘Then end it.’

  What was stopping him from killing her? Hadn’t she tormented him? Hadn’t she pushed him to the brink of madness?

  ‘Make me,’ he said.

  Nidra’s brow drew inward.

  ‘You’re Nidra—the Grand Perceptor of the Great Empire of Idar. Make me, witch.’

  She scowled at him.

  ‘That’s why I haven’t killed you yet—I want you to know, in your last moments, that you have no power over me.’

  The colour drained from her skin. The swirling patterns on her face resembled dead roots. ‘How? How did you do it? Tell me. Tell me!’

  ‘Look at you,’ said Gallows. ‘Cowering in a filthy tunnel. Defeated. You could have escaped while we were killing your entourage—but that wouldn’t suit you, would it? You need your slaves to open your doors and throw their jackets onto the mud for you. You’re pathetic, Nidra.’

  She spat at him. ‘Rocco perished believing you betrayed him, dog. He cursed you with his last breath—as his friend stomped on his chest and took my knife to him. He died hating you.’

  Gallows shoved her away and hauled the iron gate open. It led to the jungle beyond. Fresh, warm wind blew in. Gallows’ eyes strained against the light, but it was the first time he’d seen it in weeks. He refused to close his eyes. The kaleidoscopic jungle hues of greens, reds and yellows welcomed Gallows, and the reddish-pink blush of sunrise warmed the sky.

  Gallows hauled Nidra outside. She clawed at him with every step.

  He threw her to the ground by the opening of a rope bridge, which straddled a deep crevasse. Thick tree trunks rose up from the depths.

  ‘I could take the easy way out and leave you here for nature to kill you,’ he said. ‘Maybe my people will find you. Maybe your own. I could turn my back and walk away without remorse.’ He leaned down so his face was close to hers. ‘But you know what, Nidra? Killing you won’t stain my conscience—not any more than you’ve already done.’

  ‘This won’t kill me.’ Her voice was stern but she couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes. ‘I’ll be in your head from now until the Feast of Nyr. You will never be rid of me, dog. Never.’

  ‘Guess we’ll see.’

  Gallows grabbed Nidra’s lithe shoulders and hurled her into the crevasse, watching as her body bounced over the jutting rocks, listening as her screams dwindled into nothing.

  ‘She’s dead?’ asked Helmsley when Gallows had caught up.

  Gallows nodded. Helmsley didn’t seem pleased, nor upset.

  ‘Up here.’ Damien hauled Helmsley up over the lip of a rock. A clearing sprawled open ahead, surrounded by tal
l, pinkish orchids and towering kapok trees. Spiky bromeliad plants littered the jungle floor, their thin, crimson leaves reaching out like the bloodied teeth of a bear trap. Strangler figs reached up and wrapped gnarly knuckles around the trunks of other trees, leeching the life from them.

  The symphony of jungle fragrances was almost overpowering, yet all Gallows could smell was blood and sweat. Humid air filled his throat—after so long in the cell, it made him dizzy.

  Above them, ordnance exploded. The roar of airships scoured the sky—rotors, engines and guns. The Royal Sky Fleet’s Eagle fighters circled in the air, sending rails of bullets into the scattering Idari troops. Anti-air cannons hidden in the foliage spat death—one of the Eagles exploded and fell to earth like a blazing comet.

  ‘Keep moving!’ yelled Damien.

  The jungle grew denser with every step. Sweat rolled down Gallows’ bare body, pain stabbing his lungs.

  But he was free.

  * * *

  Whatever Damien was, Gallows was glad they were on the same side.

  They raced through the jungle, falling over rocky tree stumps—the assassin cleared the way for Gallows and Helmsley, disappearing for seconds at a time and returning with fresh blood on his clothes. Gallows didn’t see the bodies in the undergrowth.

  ‘How far?’ huffed Helmsley.

  ‘We’re close to where we were ambushed,’ said Gallows. ‘The stone archway we found before Cooper died—it must have been part of the castle once.’ Have they left Omari and Cooper’s bodies out here to rot?

  Vines and drooping branches whipped at Gallows’ skin as he ran. Helmsley kept stopping for breath—twice Damien saved his life when Idari soldiers crept from the bushes, machetes raised.

  Every tree, every rock and every shadow could be concealing an ambush. The jungle was alive with stoneroaches, weaver worms and necrobeetles. Pythons detached from trees and flocks of vibrant blue kingfishers exploded and dispersed as artillery rolled over the ground. Gallows didn’t know where he summoned the energy from, but he kept pace with Damien.

  They kept running, the growing heat of the jungle pressing down like a steamroller.

  When they encountered a Dalthean patrol, Gallows could have wept with joy.

  * * *

  ‘The Islands are ours,’ stated Fallon. A supply truck—known as a Golden Goddess for the trails of ignium smoke that spluttered from its exhaust—rattled along the dirt road, ferrying them back to the beachhead.

  Behind Gallows, Eagles hit the castle in strafing runs, neutralising whatever Idari hadn’t made it off the island yet. Gallows told the major about Nidra and the interrogations—about how she could command his actions. Fallon listened and said something about torture and post-traumatic stress. It was clear he didn’t believe Gallows, and no more Dalthean soldiers had attacked their own forces since the ambush with Lieutenant Trueno. Gallows and Helmsley would have a hell of a time convincing anyone what had happened to them.

  Guess I can expect the same reception when I get back home.

  When they reached the relief tent, Fallon wasted no time. ‘The Idari navy is engaging our forces in Irros’ Bounty and the Discordant Sea,’ he began, ‘but their numbers are weak. We got ’em beat. We’re packing up and moving out.’

  Gallows rubbed the back of his head. ‘Omari, Cooper,’ he said. ‘Did you find their bodies?’

  ‘We did,’ Fallon confirmed. ‘They died heroes.’

  ‘Reckon they don’t give a shit,’ said Gallows.

  ‘Reckon you’re right.’

  ‘Rocco.’ Helmsley said the word without looking at anyone. ‘He’s… His body is inside the castle. You’ll find prison cells in the tower.’

  ‘We’ll recover him,’ said the major.

  ‘When are we going home?’ Gallows asked.

  ‘Still a shitload of work to be done. Every inhabitant on this island is dead—there could be survivors further in. We’re gonna liberate ’em.’ Fallon’s gaze pinned on Gallows. ‘Omari’s dead. Congratulations—you’ve just been promoted, Sergeant Gallows.’

  ‘No.’ Gallows pressed Rocco’s tags into Fallon's hand and walked away.

  VII

  The captain of the Kismet didn’t take much convincing when Gallows, Damien and Helmsley requested passage, keen as she was to keep the Sanctecano Islands at her stern.

  Inside the cabin, every ache and pain Gallows had picked up announced itself with stark enthusiasm. His body felt like it had been torn apart and put back together. Sleep came in bursts—every time Gallows closed his eyes, Nidra stared back.

  I beat you, witch.

  Like Gallows, Helmsley sat on a fold-out bed in the corner of the compartment, head in his hands, completely immobile. The gentle glow from the lamp on the wall painted over his still form. It made Gallows think of an insect trapped in amber.

  Gallows leaned back against the bulkhead. He had no idea what he’d say to Sera. How could he possibly explain it to her? Would she be angry with him? Disgusted?

  She can’t be any more disgusted with me than I am.

  The Kismet would be over Dalthean airspace in less than an hour, and Gallows had to organise his head. He got up and stretched his legs through the Kismet’s quiet passageways. The new uniform he’d been given itched at his wounds.

  It’s done. Maybe Sera doesn’t need to know. I can swallow the shame, save it from hurting Sera—protect her from it.

  But Gallows knew he couldn’t. Sera knew him better than anyone—she’d see the anguish raging inside him no matter how hard he pushed it down.

  And she didn’t deserve to be lied to. Major Fallon might need some convincing, but Sera would believe Gallows. It would be tough on her—on both of them—but they’d get through it together. Gallows had to believe that—he had to hope.

  He stepped into a cramped restroom and locked it behind him. He splashed cold water over his face, and then more.

  A scream burst from Gallows’ throat. His voice resounded in the cubicle like an explosion in an echo chamber. Gallows punched the wall once, twice, and unbidden tears fell from his eyes.

  ‘We’re almost there,’ said Damien.

  Gallows peered out of the cramped flight deck’s skyglass. The churning, indigo sea turned black as night descended, the last remnants of sunset leaving a bruise in the sky.

  Gallows found his hands tremoring and his fingers knitting together. All that time struggling to get home—now I’m scared to get there.

  Along with the Kismet, two more airships flew back from the Sanctecano Islands with injured troops. Did the soldiers aboard fear coming home too? Did Damien and Helmsley?

  Struggling, fighting, killing… When you were fighting for life over death, it was easy to do what you had to—instinct and training kicked in. But surviving? No-one told you how to handle that. No-one told you what happened after you got home.

  And Damien still made Gallows nervous.

  ‘Gonna bear south,’ called the captain, a muscled woman of middling years called Cauldbright. Her long, grey hair was tied back in a single braid, and the sleeveless shirt she wore wasn’t part of any Sky Fleet uniform. She smelled of stale alcohol and spent ignium. It burned Gallows’ lungs.

  ‘Still open fighting on the sea,’ she continued, ‘so it’ll take longer—but better to be late than blown up, right?’

  ‘No arguments here,’ agreed Gallows. It’d been two weeks since Gallows had set off with Fallon and the rest—he felt like he’d aged a year in that time.

  Gallows drew away from the window and threw himself onto a crate. The bridge was littered with boxes and hanging, threadbare dust sheets that gave off a musky smell.

  Gallows stared up at Damien, trying to figure him out. ‘What will you do when we get back?’ he asked.

  Damien rested his chin on his fist. ‘I don’t know. Stay a while in Dalthea, I expect.’

  Turbulence jostled the Kismet as though it flew into the eye of a tornado. Gallows’ crate pulled against its bonds. He took a b
reath to steady his nerves.

  ‘Where in Ryndara are you from?’ Gallows asked, if only to keep his mind from the worms knotting in his stomach. ‘Rhis?’

  Damien shook his head. ‘I’m not a fan of the capital. I’m from a village called Kvel.’

  ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘Most haven’t.’

  Levers cranked as Cauldbright pulled at them, adjusting the ship’s bearing. Dials groaned and instruments buzzed, like the clamour of a far-off crowd. The Bride’s Code machine cut through the static with a series of long and short beeps.

  ‘So—you came to kill me.’ Gallows’ voice carried no emotion. ‘Why?’

  Damien cleared his throat. ‘I told you—’

  ‘If you say “following orders”, I’ll smack you in the mouth.’

  It was an empty threat and they both knew it, but Damien answered anyway. ‘The Council wanted me to silence any potential secrets yielded by prisoners of war.’

  ‘They’d have been better off ordering you to take the Idari out. Reckon you’d do a better job than our whole army.’

  Damien didn’t deny it. ‘Word must have got back to the camp,’ the Ryndaran observed, ‘and from there, the Council got wind of your capture.’

  ‘So they sent you deep into enemy territory, all to kill one man—who didn’t know a damn thing about what the Idari were after.’

  ‘In a nutshell.’

  Gallows closed his eyes. The bricode messages were getting louder.

  So I was singled out—why not go for Helmsley and Rocco? I knew nothing about the weapon Nidra was looking for—why did the Council fight hard to protect it?

  ‘Won’t the Council be pissed at you?’ he asked. ‘Since I’m still breathing?’

  Damien’s mouth crinkled. ‘I’ll return the deposit.’

  Gallows didn’t have the energy to figure it all out. He was done fighting, done with Fallon. He and Sera had talked of opening an antique store once, or an art gallery. Gallows had told her he wanted to travel, but right now, he’d gladly spend his days pottering around a little shop that smelled of old books, Sera by his side.