“You.”
I
hope she’s right,
Lethe said.
“So do I.”
Axler cut through the last of the restraints, but Burnout did not move. The cyberzombie simply lay there in a prone position.
“Lethe,” Ryan said. “Get up.”
Billy's cybernetics have been deactivated.
Grind stepped up holding the electronic device the dwarf technician had dropped. “I think this is some sort of remote deck for Burnout.”
The technician used it to turn off access to our cybernetics.
“Grind,” Ryan said. “Turn everything on.”
“Copy.”
Grind tapped some buttons, and abruptly Burnout stood.
The huge man shot up with amazing speed and grace, hulking over them all. He snatched the remote from Grind with a blinding move. “Thank you,” he said. Then he gave Ryan a feral grin. “Let’s get out of here.”
Ryan nodded, but when he looked out through the door and peered down the hall through the smoke, he saw what
Jane meant—fifteen or twenty guards were coming around
the corner. Weapons brought violently to bear.
Frag,
thought Ryan,
we’re trapped.
In her bedroom at Chateau d'If, Nadja Daviar sat at a huge wooden desk and looked at Gordon Wu’s image on the small telecom screen. While Ryan was trying to stop Aztechnology from destroying the world, she was doing what she could to keep her affairs going.
The business of running the Draco Foundation and the politics of the upcoming vice presidential election seemed trivial now, though she knew they weren’t. In the long run, her role was crucial. Perhaps it was more mundane than Ryan’s, but just as vital.
On the screen, Gordon’s lips formed a flat line, which was as much of a smile as he could give. Trying unsuccessfully to hide his fatigue. It was very early in the morning in Washington FDC.
“Also, Gordon, I want you to set up a meeting with each of the prospective members of the Draco Foundation board.”
Gordon nodded, and Nadja stifled the overwhelming urge to yawn. She leaned back in the leather chair and took a deep breath.
The room around her was large and elegantly appointed. Beautiful, ancient tapestries hung over walls of hewn gray stone. A massive four-poster bed made of polished maple dominated the chamber, complete with a soft feather mattress. She and Ryan had tested it out earlier.
She remembered Ryan’s face, the depth of his silvery blue eyes as they adored her. The hard muscles of his chest and abdomen as she ran her fingers across them.
“Miss Daviar?”
Nadja focused on the telecom.
I'm drifting,
she thought. She forced a smile, “Sorry, Gordon. I’m a little tired.”
“What about your appointment with Lucien Cross?”
“I’ll need to reschedule.”
“I’ll handle it,” Gordon said. “When will you return to Washington?”
“When things are finished here,” Nadja said. “One or two days, I think. I can’t be more specific than that.”
A knock sounded on the door.
“I must go now,” Nadja said. “I’ll contact you for an update.” She disconnected.
She blinked against the sunlight streaming through the open window. Dawn had arrived here, even though she knew it would be several hours before it reached North America. Before Ryan’s run would be finished, before she would know whether he had been successful. Many hours at the very least before she could see him again.
She stood and walked to the carved teak door. “Come in,” she said.
A secret service guard opened the door, then stepped out of the way to reveal Jane Foster. Exhaustion made the young elven woman’s eyes droop. Her blonde hair hung in a tangled mat, and her blue eyes had lost their gleam. “Aina has brought Harlequin back,” she said.
Nadja almost hugged her. “That’s great. Where are they?”
“Follow me.” She turned and led Nadja down the hall, then into the main room. The early morning sunlight streamed through the macroglass ceiling, and gave a pink-yellow hue to the big, open room.
Harlequin lay on the biue velvet sofa, and Aina sat on
the matching ottoman. Lines of stress showed on the dark skin of her elven face as she cast magic of some sort. Nadja could almost feel the power flowing through Aina, could almost see a tracery of scars across her brown skin as she placed her hands on Harlequin’s chest.
Nadja stood at a distance and waited. Jane Foster slouched into an adjacent chair, struggling to keep her eyes open. Harlequin’s breath came shallow and slow; his painted face was wrinkled and cracked, making him look very, very old. His eyes fluttered open as Aina’s healing magic did its work.
Then Aina leaned back, almost falling.
Nadja moved to catch her if she lost her balance. But Aina recovered, swaying gently back and forth as she closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate on breathing.
Harlequin propped himself into a sitting position against some pillows. His eyes focused on the scene around him. When his gaze landed on Nadja, he spoke. “You seem to be out of place, Miss Daviar.”
“I came with Aina,” she said. “Ryan asked me.”
“Is Ryan all right? I sent him back, before . . .”
Nadja gave him her warmest smile. “He woke up in great health. He is now in Aztlan, trying to get the spirit, Lethe.”
Harlequin seemed to gather his strength, and he sat up fully, glancing at Aina, who slipped onto the sofa next to him. She was still recovering from her spell.
“He plans to get Lethe and bring him back here for another ritual.”
Harlequin was quiet, though he seemed on the verge of speaking. He took a deep breath, one hand idly combing through the long strands of his hair. Contemplating.
It was Aina who spoke, “There’s not enough time to wait for him.”
Harlequin looked at her, nodding silently in agreement. Jane Foster sat forward in her chair, giving Aina a look that would freeze steam. “What do you mean?”
Harlequin answered, “Aina is right. Darke has used the Locus far more effectively than any could have thought possible. He is close to completing the bridge. If that happens ...”
Jane Foster’s look did not soften. “I know what it means, but what do you intend to do?”
“I must go to Ryan Mercury and Lethe immediately,” Harlequin said.
“But you’ve been through so much already,” Foster said, her voice pleading. “You’re not healed up.”
“Actually, Aina’s magic has made me almost as good as new. I feel great.”
Aina gave Jane a sympathetic look. “I know you care for him,” she said. “Just as I did long ago.” She gave Harlequin a smile. “But this is for the whole of metahumanity. You cannot know what it is like to live with the Corruption, and I hope you never have to. It is worse than death. Believe me, I know.”
“The bridge is nearly complete,” Harlequin said. “We must go.”
“They’re in San Marcos, in Aztlan,” Nadja said, “It’s halfway around the world. How can you get there in time?”
“We’ll go astrally,” Harlequin said. Then he turned to Aina, “Will you join me? Your knowledge of such matters far exceeds even mine.”
“I’m with you, Caimbeul,” Aina said, though her voice gave away her fatigue. “Once more we fight together.”
Foster stood, “I’m coming with you.”
“I won’t stop you,” Harlequin said. “But I’d rather you remain with Miss Daviar. Watch over us. If we fail, she may need help.”
Foster didn’t hide her disappointment, but she said nothing.
Harlequin laughed. “Besides, I’d hate to face your father if anything happened to you.”
Foster sank into her chair, a resigned look on her features.
When Nadja glanced back at Harlequin and Aina, they
were already gone. Their bodies sitting side by side looked relaxed and content. More like two people watching the trid than warriors of ancient magic on a quest to save the Sixth World from an onslaught of evil.
Thick strands of gray smoke drifted into the hall as Ryan scanned the situation. He kept himself hidden from view, using his stealth magic, and assessed the opposition in a heartbeat. His magically enhanced senses told him all the details.
He saw the heat outlines of guards coming around the corner cautiously, expecting a confrontation. He heard their subvocalizations as the advance team sprinted into the hall, setting up overlapping fields of fire. They wore military-grade full combat armor with integrated helmets, which Ryan knew gave them infrared and low-light vision.
Ryan could even feel the pounding of their heartbeats. A slight pressure rhythm inside their suits. All these details came to him in a split instant.
Can’t let them trap us inside the room,
he thought.
We’ll never get out.
The walls of the corridor were smooth painted stone. No cover.
A lot of people are going to die before this is over.
Ryan quickly glanced the other way, the opposite direction from which they had come. No guards, no subtle indications that anything was coming to block their way. “Jane,” he subvocalized, “is there another way out of here?”
“Yes, Quicksilver, but it leads to the main entrance.”
“We’ll take it,” he said. “Axler, Grind let’s go!” Ryan drew his MGL-6 pistol and fired a flash grenade into the hall.
The small orb flew into the midst of the guards coming around the corner as Burnout edged up next to Ryan. The third arm disengaged from its compartment in Burnout’s back and swung up next to his head like a chrome stinger, a rotor-barreled M107 heavy machine gun attached to the end.
“Ready to rock and roll, Ryan,” he said.
A brilliant flash lit the dark hallway, a blinding light that would overload their low-light vision and cause them to blink simultaneously.
At that exact instant, Ryan called upon his telekinetic strike, focusing his power through the Dragon Heart. He opened his arms, releasing the force like tidal wave—a tsunami of magic energy that slammed into the oncoming guards.
The wave picked them up and hurled them against the far wall like rag dolls.
“Let’s move!” Ryan yelled. “Go, go, go.”
Axler was first around the corner and gliding down the hall away from the stunned guards. Talon and Grind followed closely behind, very difficult to see with the invisibility magic. Of course that wouldn’t hide them from thermal scans.
Burnout darted into the hall, his movement smooth and nearly as fast as Ryan’s. The cyberzombie didn’t follow Axler and the others, however; he headed for the downed guards. The barrel of his Ml07 whined as it chewed up the belt of armor-piercing rounds and spat them into the stunned bodies of the six guards.
“Go,” he told Ryan. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Axler and the others had disappeared around the corner
in the other direction. Ryan followed quickly, and Burnout
came right after as more guards burst into the hall from behind. Two held Panther Assault cannons, and the group was accompanied by a combat drone that zipped along the floor. It was big enough to have a mounted Vindicator minigun.
Lethe spoke to Ryan through the Dragon Heart, “There are mages in that group, and they’ve brought some nasty blood spirits to help. I can banish them, but I need to draw from the Dragon Heart.”
‘‘Do it,” Ryan said. “I brought the Heart for you anyway.”
Ryan felt Lethe stretch his magic to touch the Heart where it rested in the sash around Ryan’s abdomen. The spirit channeled his power through the artifact, then into the two blood spirits which had begun to manifest in the hall.
The blood spirits looked like orks or trolls with the skin removed. Naked eyeballs staring from bloody muscle sockets, nostrils flayed open and dripping. They moved incredibly fast, rushing toward them.
Lethe’s force hit them and they flew apart, disintegrated into their constituent organs. They sank to the floor like a stew of body parts—bones, muscle and gut—then disintegrated.
The drone’s minigun roared, filling the hallway with an onslaught of lead slugs. Ryan dove around the corner just in time, and Burnout came behind him. Ryan heard the distinct metallic ping of rounds ricocheting off Burnout’s frame.
“Okay?” Ryan sprinted to catch up with Axler and the others.
The cyberzombie was on Ryan’s heels, matching him step for smooth step as they raced up the corridor at breakneck speed. Burnout’s voice came back with a note of laughter. “Fine,” he said. “So good of you to ask.”
Ryan watched Axler, Grind and Talon, their outlines difficult to see because of the invisibility magic, cut a sharp left down another passage. In the tacticom, he heard Jane giving Axler directions to the central staircase.
When he reached the left passage, Ryan ducked around the corner and stopped, simultaneously pulling a clip of fragmentation grenades from his belt and slamming it into his grenade pistol. These would frag them over, and they might even take out that drone. “Catch up with the others,” he told Burnout. “I’ll be right behind.”
Burnout didn't even stop.