Alliance of Serpents (28 page)

"Kill them." The calm voice from the
communicator startled him. He stared at the device for a minute
before replying.

"What?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Kill them. They have quite obviously failed
in their mission, and your possession of their communication
devices means that they allowed Vezulian equipment to fall into
enemy hands. Their failure has made them more of a threat to me
than anything else, and thus they must be disposed of. So, if you'd
like to, then by all means. It would save me the job of having to
do it later."

Arus shot a look at the Vezulian soldiers.
"How do you feel about being the next sacrifices on this ridiculous
quest for peace that you claim to pursue?" he sneered, holding up
the communication device. "Your glorious Admiral has just sentenced
you to death."

"That wasn't the admiral," a plump man in
grey said. "That was the battle commander, Commander Arctis."

"And does
he
 have the power to
decide your fate as he has stated?"

None of them seemed to want to meet his
stare. Most looked at the floor or each other, but the dejected
expressions on their face answered Arus' question. Their lives were
going to be ended by the very people they claimed to serve.

The long-legged Thanai man stepped forward
and placed his gun at his feet. "I surrender myself to the Aeden
Alliance, and I accept whatever fate—" A bloody blade suddenly
burst through his chest, turning his sentence into nothing more
than a strangled grunt. Arus blinked in surprise, and the blade
vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the soldier to
slump to the floor in a lifeless heap. Another man abruptly gasped
and fell, his throat sliced wide open. More began to go down, each
mortally wounded in one way or another. Through his scanners, Arus
could clearly see a single life form darting amongst the Vezulian
soldiers, but shock and confusion held him still. Had an assassin
been sent by their battle commander to see that his orders were
carried out? No, there hadn't been enough time. It all happened so
fast that the few seconds it took for Arus to shake off the
surprise and step forward to intervene were a few too many. The
final two bodies dropped, revealing a face that nearly caused Arus'
jaw to crash to the floor.

"Vultrel?" he asked in an incredulous fury.
"How? How did you get here? Where did you come from?"

"Checkmate." Clad in his usual black, he
wiped his sword on one of the Vezulian uniforms before returning it
to the scabbard on his back. "There's no time for that now," he
said in a melancholy voice. He seemed to share the others'
reluctance to make eye contact, and his face was alarmingly pale
and dripping with sweat. "You're in danger here."

Turning his attention to the pile of slain
soldiers, Arus ground his teeth again. "Why? Why did you kill those
soldiers? I was trying to help them—"

"They were a threat," Vultrel responded,
stepping over each casually as though they were fallen trees or
dead bushes. "They were not about to cower to your demands. Come,
we must get out of this area right away."

Arus tucked the Vezulian communicator into
his pouch and sheathed his weapon. "You don't know that!" he
insisted, deactivating the additional systems of the implant. "One
of them was about to accept our offer of asylum! You cannot assume
that people—"

"Look, can we discuss this later?" Vultrel
snapped. "This area is not safe."

Finally, Arus forced himself to let the
subject go. For the time being, anyway. "Where are we going?"

"I have orders to take you somewhere safe,"
he told him. His dark eyes shifted toward the Aeden soldiers as he
added, "Alone."

If he had orders, then that meant . . .
"Damien knows you're here?" That seemed unlikely, yet if Vultrel
had been given orders regarding his safety, then it must've be
true.

For some reason, Vultrel eyed him for a
moment before saying, "Yes. Now let's get moving. We can talk
later. The rest of these soldiers can head to the hangar. That
seems to be where the bulk of the fighting is taking place."

Arus nodded and turned to Doman. "You heard
him. I've got orders from Damien to go with Vultrel while the rest
of you head to the hangar to help fend off the invading
forces."

"We'll take care of it," Doman assured him,
shaking his hand. "Go. Get yourself to safety."

Vultrel motioned toward the end of the hall.
"This way."

Reluctantly, Arus followed him down the
corridor and around the corner. Once they were out of sight,
Vultrel set off at a dead run. Arus' questions about his appearance
and how he'd gotten back to the
Refuge
were mostly shrugged
off as Vultrel continued to insist that there was no time to
explain everything. He wouldn't even say where they were going,
claiming that there were too many people listening. What that
meant, Arus couldn't fathom. And Vultrel wasn't interested in
clarifying. He looked different than when they'd last seen each
other, beyond the ghostly look to his face. There was a new
definition and tone to his bare arms that suggested he'd been
training extensively, and his clothes were torn and tattered in
many places. Beyond his appearance, there was an animosity about
him that was much more amplified than it had been when he'd
departed from the
Refuge
. All of it came together to form a
very unsteady feeling in the pit of Arus' stomach. What could've
happened that would've affected his best friend so? How had he
gotten back to the
Refuge
? Why didn't Damien mention
anything about him?

At the lift, Vultrel hustled him inside and
hit the button for the bridge. The long ride was silent; any
questions were waved away or shrugged off with a simple, "Not now."
Vultrel's constant refusal to enlighten Arus on
anything
irritated him to no end, which he made clear when his mechanical
fist slammed into the wall in anger.

"By the Maker, we're at war here!" he
shouted. "Can't you tell me anything at all?"

Vultrel only leaned against the wall with his
arms crossed, refusing to make eye contact. "You'll know everything
you need to know soon enough," he said. "And I have a feeling that
when you learn what has transpired, you'll wish you'd come home
with me rather than remaining here with these . . . people." That
last word had been changed, Arus was sure. It almost seemed as
though it had been wrenched from Vultrel's lips.

All questions vanished from Arus' mind as the
lift doors slid apart, revealing a scene that put the fluttering of
a hundred wild butterflies in his stomach. In the center of the
bridge, Damien was matching another Zo'rhan warrior blow for blow
in a battle unlike anything Arus had ever seen. Each attack was
delivered with what looked like a killing force, yet both men
somehow managed to remain standing. The second fighter, nearly
identical to Damien in every way with the exception of a slimmer
build and eyes that radiated with a pure blue light, fought with
unimaginable speed and agility; it almost seemed as though he could
predict Damien's attacks three and four moves ahead. But Damien
somehow managed to keep up, his fists connecting more often than
not, bringing streams of blood from his opponent's nose and lips.
He was not without his own injuries, however, as a thick smear of
blood marred the side of his face near his left ear, and another
stream trickled from the corner of his eye. Arus didn't need an
introduction to identify the intruder. Kindel Thorus had made his
presence known.

Outside, ships of every size and shape
twisted about, firing lasers and missiles at one another amidst the
occasional explosion of fire and twisted metal. The starcruisers
fired a steady stream of red lasers from a seemingly endless array
of turrets lining their hulls, and assault transports launched
missiles fiery green missiles at the larger starships. The
Refuge
was repeatedly rocked by various attacks, and garbled
damage reports came from the now vacant communications terminal.
People were dying left and right, and the bridge of the
Refuge
served as the center of the struggle.

The rest of the flight crew was no where to
be seen. Perhaps Damien had sent them to find refuge elsewhere. To
the right, two men uniformed in white and black held Kitreena
captive near the side of the room. Dried blood crusted on her upper
lip while fresh crimson shimmered on her chin and dripped onto a
growing stain on her shirt. She watched the battle in an unfocused
daze, and her arms looked limp in the grasp of her captors. They
glanced at him as he entered alongside Vultrel, and despite the
scarves that concealed their faces, Arus would've bet any amount of
silver that they were smiling. Or grinning, at least.

Before even acknowledging the presence of
Kindel, Arus yanked his sword from its sheath and dashed toward
Kitreena's captors. "Let her go!" he screamed, leaping into the
air. Like flying face-first into an iron wall, an invisible force
smacked him out of the air and sent him sprawling on his back by
the lift.

"Arus!" Damien's voice cried out. "Get out of
here!"

Shaking his head in a vain attempt to shed
the pain, he pushed himself upright and rubbed his forehead.
What? I thought Vultrel said he had summoned me here.

"You've done well, Vultrel," another voice
said. It came from the center of the bridge. "Has he conceded your
point of view?"

"I haven't had a chance to speak with him at
length," Vultrel's response came. He, too, headed for the middle of
the room. "If I had, he most certainly wouldn't have come."

Damien chimed in, both angry and appalled.
"Vultrel! You've sided with
him
? How could you turn your
back on—"

"Enough, Aldoric," Kindel cut him off. "Do
not try to undo what has been done. Vultrel and I have discussed
everything at length, and frankly, he agrees that you are unfit to
care for the child."

Arus couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Vultrel and Kindel were
allies
? The mere thought was more
than he could stomach. His best friend, his partner, a young man
he'd once called his brother, had betrayed him to an enemy who
sought to control the universe through power and intimidation. It
had been no secret that Vultrel had looked after Arus as they grew,
being the better swordsman and all, but now he'd gone beyond simple
brotherly protection. He had handed Arus over to a man who only
wanted to harness the implant's power for his own personal
gain.

At least,
tried
to hand him over.

In an instant, every function of the implant
was activated, and Arus leapt to his feet with an ear-shattering
scream of anger and rage. His mechanical hand was clenched around
the hilt of his sword, though he almost felt as though he might
kill Kindel with his bare hands. "Get off this ship!" he growled,
pointing above to the stars. "Get off this ship or I'll send you
off in pieces!"

Damien and Kindel had parted, both staring at
Arus intently. Damien's look of bewilderment was priceless; he had
no way of knowing that the implant was fully functional and no
doubt thought Arus was suicidal. Kindel, on the other hand, seemed
to take the threat seriously. To a certain degree, anyway. He wiped
the blood from his lips with the back of his hand and whispered
something to Vultrel, who stood beside him with arms crossed. To
the right, Kitreena squirmed to free herself to no avail.

"Arus, a lot of people are after you,"
Vultrel finally said. "Dangerous people. They want to use you to
further their own selfish desires. You hated being used, didn't
you?"

"I am
not
being used, Vultrel," he
responded through a clenched jaw. "The only person in this room who
wants to use me is
him
!" The point of his blade shifted
toward Kindel, who shook his head with a sigh.

"I am not surprised that Aldoric has
corrupted your mind, young one," Kindel said, an almost sincere
sympathy lacing his voice. "He goes to great lengths to keep me
from doing what is necessary to spread peace and harmony throughout
the universe."

Arus swung his sword down emphatically as he
stepped toward the Vezulian admiral. "I don't know who Aldoric is,
but it doesn't matter. I'm not going with you, Thorus. You may as
well leave now."

For a moment, Kindel's artificial smile
turned to an open frown. A questioning eyebrow was directed toward
Damien. "You haven't told him?" The smile was back before the words
had completely exited his mouth. "I suppose that shouldn't surprise
me either. Most people make great efforts hide their shame,
especially those seeking to deceive others."

Looking at Damien, Arus spoke cautiously.
"What is he talking about?"

Damien grimaced and shook his head before
responding. "By birth, my name is Aldoric. Aldoric Thorus." He gave
only a momentary pause for Arus to absorb the sentence before
continuing. "While everything I've told you about Kindel was true,
there are pieces of the story that I left out for personal reasons.
Kindel is my brother, as much as it shames me to admit it. During
the Ma'tuul's attack on our homeworld, his anger grew dangerously,
and he became obsessed with his quest to see Zo'rhan safe once
again. While his goals were just, the means that he intended to
employ were not. Our father taught us honor, nobility, generosity,
and love. We are a noble family . . . At least, we were long ago.
Kindel disowned everything father taught him in pursuit of nothing
but strength and power."

"Such traits may have sufficed amongst the
Zo'rhan, but against the Ma'tuul, they only served to send many of
our people to their graves," Kindel interjected. "You speak as
though I am some kind of criminal, when it was I who liberated
Zo'rhan from the terror of the Ma'tuul in the end."