River’s End ch 29: Matching the Strength of a Whisper

If you drop a sugar cube in water, the reaction is benign. The sugar dissolves, and the water grows sweet. If we compare Grenswa to that bowl of water, then my presence was like that sugar cube—notable but not stirring up much fuss.

By way of contrast, have you ever dropped a cube of potassium in water? It explodes, which was exactly what the horror-lined nerves in my gut did as I stood atop the king’s fountain, watching nightmares unfold.

The air was rent by the voice of chaos—screams of terror and pain, the hiss and boom of weapons, and the shriek of flying vehicles. Fires burned in every direction, small from my vantage point, like bushes. They were hungry weeds devouring the verdant valley. Tiny figures fought and ran in their light.

A low crooning grew from the edge of my perception, gradual enough that by the time I took note of it, it almost drowned out Hent’s shout. “Jump!”

Distracted looking for the source of the noise, I took too long to obey. A metal husk shaped like a sparrow zoomed toward me, toward the discs displaying the lordly families. As the wave ahead of it crashed into my platform, I toppled. My wheeling arms failed to right me as I plummeted into the pond.

The water’s embrace was rock, bruising my back and knocking all air from my lungs. Bubbles blocked my vision. Currents played tug-o-war over me. Booms sounded all around. I was shoved one way, then another, my kicks in vain.

The surf caught and threw me onshore. Water streamed down the muddy incline.

I hoped Paqo had sunk.

Coughing, I knelt on my hands and knees, fake, pink scales bright against dark, slick mud. Another boom sounded, trailed by a surge of heat. Fire’s exuberance struck my face, and I dropped, wrapping my arms over my head. Cold came in its wake, and I glanced up, peering between my fingers at the disorder.

Shlykrii-na soldiers ran everywhere, protected by golden armor. Deep brown showed at the joints. Helmets sheltered their heads, concealing their faces and telltale ears. A curtain of mail hung from their belt to shield their short, bushy tails. These wagged in excitement as some slashed and stabbed with long, curved sabers. Others fired laser rifles into the retreating crowd.

The Ruby who had given me the lalakrii drink wielded a double-bladed batzrii, surrounded by three Shlykrii-nas. Full airborne weight put into the blow, he blocked a sword and pushed off, feet crashing into another’s gut. The Shlykrii-na stumbled, golden boots sloshing in mud. The Ruby landed, tail whipping as he spun to oppose one more strike.

Another sliced down his back.

The Ruby fell, and the Shlykrii-nas moved on. The last, with a casual aim of a rifle, finished off my new friend.

I gasped. I hadn’t even known his name.

What was happening? This wasn’t how the attack was supposed to go. The datapin had said this would be a biological strike, horrifying and devastating, yes, but not so blatantly violent. They hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t given any reason for this senseless spillage of blood.

Was this because I had come? Did the Shyklrii-nas learn of the warning I carried and alter their plan? How did they find out?

I recalled bumping into Honorable Brikla of the Bukuu. Could she have told?

She only knew I left Menyaza, not where I headed or why.

Bongii had left Grenswa when Fredo and I were attacked in the shipyard. Had that called their attention?

If I had gone with the Ruby lord to Tils, could I have prevented this chaos?

My chest filled with sharp rocks as I scanned the heavens. The empty darkness above stretched on forever, speckled by diamonds too far away.

Were the wufan dead? I didn’t believe in omens, but it would be bad for morale if mythical creatures of benevolence were slaughtered by your enemies in front of the whole world. Instead of their ethereal glow, fire lit the valley. Instead of music and food, screams and blood defined the scene. Could the rest of their world still see this? Were they watching, witnesses unable to help?

Clouds gathered and blocked out the stars. Another explosion deafened me, or was that thunder? Haillets, lasers, and bullets whooshed over my head, flashing brighter than the flickering inferno. Smoke clogged my nostrils and stung my throat.

I was not a helpless bystander forced to watch from afar, unable to do anything. I was here. I could fight.

I forced myself to my hands and knees. My hair stuck to my cheeks. Did I have a weapon? Nothing beyond my fists, which I wouldn’t pit against sabers or guns. What could I do? What would make the most difference?

Shouting broke through my thoughts. Hent’s voice. Further along the shore, he held a pair of daggers. A Shlykrii-na flew back. Another advanced. A sword sliced at Hent’s knees, and he jumped, stretching into an open flip above the alien’s head. His amber vest flared behind him, soaked by a dark liquid with a ghostly, green-gold sheen. Opal blood.

The children’s play flashed before my eyes, stuck on the scene where an actor pierced Hent’s arm.

Oh Hent, please don’t get filleted right in front of me!

I got to my feet and raced toward him. I had no plan for once I got there, but I couldn’t stand here and watch him get killed.

Hent kept in constant motion, staying close to a central location. Sentries joined him, and each one squared off against two or three enemies. They protected something, not letting the soldiers within a circle where a second figure hunkered.

It was the queen, crouched low, silken blue dress torn and covered in grime, a wild expression on her face. Several of the delicate chains holding the jeweled diadem on her forehead had snapped, allowing the gem to swing with reckless abandon. She gripped a haillet loaded in a sling, ready to fire at any that slipped past Hent.

The king lay motionless on the bank behind her, eyes closed. Blood coated his chest. His crown was also broken, its beads and jewels scattered in the muck.

More Shlykrii-nas gathered. A distant shot hit the queen in the leg, and she dropped.

“Timqé!” Hent called.

His brother was there instantly, no explanation needed. He scooped up the queen. “Bottom of the pond. Niiq’s already there.”

I sighed in relief. Niiq and the baby were safe.

With his mother still armed with a loaded sling and leaning against his side, Timqé tried to lift his father as well. Yet, like ants to fallen candy, the Shlykrii-nas had found their prized quarry. They swarmed over the group. The queen got off one shot before I lost track of her.

I dove into the fray, keeping low as I elbowed any weak spot in the Shlykrii-nas’ armor. Several of my targets fell.

I am a river, I told myself despite tripping over my own dress. I am a river sweeping away all in my path. Untouchable. Invincible.

Something scratched my hip. Burning liquid cascaded down my side, but I told myself it was only mud. The scrape of metal on metal sounded behind me again and again, but I didn’t look back, slithering on until I reached the king. His scales were a dull, ashen tan, devoid of the vibrant shimmer of breaths.

I have to get him in the water.

As I wrapped an arm around his middle, a shout erupted behind me. A crash preceded a saber stabbing into the sludgy ground, its wake tickling my back. I rocked forward, retreat stopped by my skirt. The saber pinned several of its orange layers.

Tearing free, I rolled away and slid in the mire. My feet carved ravines as I fought to stand. A Shlykrii-na landed flat where I had been, and Hent leapt off his back, sullied vest waving as he disappeared again in the mayhem. Was that his own blood that covered him or his father’s?

A trail of bodies lined the path I had taken; those I had toppled lay face down. Had one of the Grenswa-nas followed me, finishing off those I had made falter? I hadn’t killed them, but I had helped.

They’re Shlykrii-nas, I rationalized, unsuccessfully blowing my hair out of my face as I scrambled back to the king. They shouldn’t even be here.

A scream shattered that thought, and golden armor flashed by my face as a soldier splashed down, a batzrii in his back. I froze, not even breathing, wide-eyed gaze pinned to the glittering blade and its claws of white electricity.

A Sapphire sentry repealed the weapon and bounded to his next target. My focus fell on another downed Shlykrii-na, fingers digging furrows as he tried to crawl away. Others retreated, several sliced down the moment they turned their backs.

They don’t want to be here. They’re pawns in someone else’s game. But whose?

A luminous bullet streaked within a hairsbreadth of my nose, and mud erupted by my left elbow, boiling instantly. I rolled away.

They’re still our enemy. They’re killing us.

Still turning, I grabbed the wrist of the nearest fallen Shlykrii-na and pulled him onto my back. His armor was warm and sticky against my bare shoulders. Would it provide protection from their bullets? They fired into the crowd with no worry of harming their own, so I hoped it would. I also hoped no Grenswa-na mistook my shield for a retreating foe and impaled us. I had to reach the king and get him into the pond.

As I moved, the Shlykrii-na groaned, arms drawing an awkward embrace.

Oh high heavens, he’s still alive!

I swiveled my head. My horrified visage reflected in his mirror-like visor.

“[What are…you doing?]” he wheezed in Laysis. The helmet lent his voice a hollow, filtered quality, pain and confusion left unsieved. I wished I could see his face instead of my own.

No, I don’t want to see his face. That’ll only make him more of a person.

Turning away, I crawled on. “[Hush, you’re my hostage.]”

He grabbed my arms and ripped them out from beneath me. I fell on my chest, breath abandoning me in a grunt.

I shouldn’t have said something that put him on the defensive, even if I did bother to speak in his native language. He hadn’t even registered that courtesy.

Whatever. I was stronger than him. He struggled to rise, but I yanked him down and continued slinking toward the king.

A cry pierced my bones, and I dropped, hands pressed to my ears. Gold flakes rained around me. The visor of the Shlykrii-na on my back shattered, his armor cracked and crumbling.

A foot skated past my face, cascades of obsidian chiffon trailing it. The Lady of Onyx, Niiq’s mother, wielded some hybrid of flute and bayonet. Its voice was haunting, like a cold mist seeping into my joints to lock them in place. She moved like the wind, like the river I had told myself I was. The Shlykrii-nas’ armor turned to dust, her dance designed to slice down any that entered her sights.

One of her followers stepped on my hostage, and I squeaked, trance broken.

The king. She’ll hold them off. I’ll save the king.

Without looking at my Shlykrii-na’s exposed face, I slipped free of him and sprinted for King Ranjial. Two giant steps delivered me to his side. As gently as I dared, I scooped him into my arms and stood, drawing a deep breath to leap into the pond.

A pair of daggers hovered beneath my chin, drenched in rust-colored Shlykrii-na blood and glowing in appreciation of it. Hent held them, red-flecked, onyx gaze resembling lava as it cooled.

“Let go of my father.”

“We need to get him to safety”—my grip tightened on the king’s unconscious body—“into the water with Timqé and—”

“You brought the Shlykrii-nas here.” Hent’s crown was twisted, entangled in the hair that hung in his face, wet and heavy, scales just as dark, reflecting none of the firelight. The faintest flicker of question hid in his gaze, in the straight line of his lips.

I shook my head and stepped toward him, closer to the water, to safety. “I came here with a warning.”

“One that meant nothing.” He didn’t move. One of the daggers touched the skin above my clavicle. “A decoy so we’d show you the island’s location, and they’d know where to attack.”

“Then why would I be here in this battle alongside you, fighting for you?”

“You’re an easily discarded pawn.”

My mouth opened, but no words came, dammed by doubt parading through my mind.

I hadn’t purposely brought a false warning. I hadn’t meant to lead the Shlykrii-nas here to this secret island capital.

Yet, what if that had been the plan? What if whoever was behind this had taken advantage of my love of Grenswa? They knew I would blindly jump at the chance to come here, would be genuine in my concern when all along I would be the source of my hosts’ downfall.

No, Kietyn gave me the datapin. My sister wouldn’t throw me away. And my uncle wouldn’t have encoded a false message. He loves Grenswa as much as I do.

What if it was a test? What if I was supposed to figure all this out before it was too late, question my orders?

I didn’t follow orders, not exactly.

I had brought Fredo. How did he factor in all this? He was unconscious, and it was my fault, and...

Oh high heavens, is the medical ward also under attack?

As the king’s weight lifted off my arms, I blinked, returning to the present to see the Onyx giant dive into the pond, carrying his monarch. Hent still held his daggers at my throat, orange edging his obsidian.

“If you truly believe that I brought the Shlykrii-nas here, that I am the cause of this, then kill me.” My voice shook, barely matching the strength of a whisper. “It’s better than the person you believe me to be would deserve.”

I didn’t think he would do it, but he didn’t move, multi-colored stare boring into me like a rain of shattered glass.

Tears pooled in my eyes, and I closed them. “Also, I promise you Fredo had nothing to do with this. Please look after him. Don’t let anyone hurt him.”

The dagger’s warm touch dropped from my neck, and my eyes flew open, a faint, nervous smile ready to reward him, but that fell, too.

Hent had been snatched up by a Shlykrii-na, and the soldier fled through the crowd, shouting to his comrades, grip tight around the prince’s waist. Hent slashed at his captor’s back, canyons carved in crumbling armor. Other soldiers crowded around, calling into bands at their wrists. A large syringe flashed in the firelight as it stabbed into Hent’s side.

The prince’s dark eyes rolled back, and he fell limp over the Shlykrii-na’s shoulder.

Continued in chapter 30: Whispers of Movement in the Dark

Thank you for reading!