Killers, Traitors, & Runaways Read online

  “Now for the long stretch,” he said as the train began to move. “Ocean for thousands of miles, I’d estimate. Our only stops are apparently a series of man-made checkpoints.”

  “It’s been a while,” Zella recalled. “I think when I went to Teusne, I used a different route, passing through a chain of islands to the north.” Her gaze drifted out the window as she thought. “I don’t know if this route was here, last time.”

  “What was the city like?” Flynn asked.

  “The city I met then dwarfs Annora even now. It was boundless. I don’t believe I ever saw any part of the planet’s earthen surface; the walls are built so high that I think they deliberately try to hide the land until they’ve put it to some use.”

  From what Flynn knew of the old Earth—not the wasteland he grew up in, but civilization before it had bombed itself to rubble—it had never fallen so deeply in love with its own technology to build such metropolises.

  “Do you remember how you left Teusne?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Even if I did, I’ve no doubt that for the decades that have passed, the sprawling city will be unrecognizable to me.”

  Flynn considered sharing what his senses had found, as he became more and more certain that the rift he was detecting was not on the mainland, but someplace on the way. Zella had prompted him to be more forthright in trusting her, but there seemed no practical reason to share.

  “Had I your talent, your connection to the ways between worlds, perhaps I could find that same passage for you,” Zella commented. “As it is, they open at my nearing. I do not know them before I see them.”

  “I wonder why…” Flynn murmured.

  “Wonder about yourself,” she replied. “The Flynn I first met was profoundly unremarkable—at least, so he appeared. That was how you did it, of course. You seemed plain and used that to snare one’s trust.”

  “It helped a great deal,” he agreed.

  “Yet you were numb to the rifts, far less connected even than I. Until you made contact with one, and found yourself made into this creature before me.”

  For a moment, Flynn felt self-conscious. At times, clever plans and lies could make him seem less alien than he was. Breth was a frustrating world, where he could not appear natural when nature itself was a subject of rejection. He had finally begun to understand what Jean and Mack had endured back on Earth, spending their lives in hiding. Selfishly, he hoped the next world would be more accommodating.

  * * *

  The way stations that peppered the route were the only sight worth seeing in the endless ocean, and even they were dull. They looked like little more than gray spikes driven down into the seabed, but Leria mentioned their being used for emergency maintenance, as well as places where travelers who needed to turn around could do so.

  For Jean, it was hours of idle boredom. She slouched forward in her seat, the sunlight cooking her backside through the window. She paid the world no mind, asking the same in return, and for the most part, it complied. Mack was the sole exception, sometimes coming over to poke her, see if she was awake. She ignored him, pretending to be out cold until he learned to leave her be. The wall between them would need time before coming down, and she was uncertain how to make eye contact after the things he’d said to her.

  As daylight waxed, Jean’s tired eyes opened to see the orange skies reflected in the ocean. It was then that Leria leaned in and obscured her view.

  “Yo,” Jean grunted. “Yer blockin’ my postcard view.”

  Startled, Leria stepped aside as the train shuddered from a bump in the rail. She nearly fell on a man seated behind Flynn, but caught herself and settled on Jean’s bench, leaving several empty seats between them. Leria said nothing, but shot quick, repeated glances at Jean, peering curiously at her muscular abdominals.

  However subtle she thought she was being, Leria was doing a terrible job of it, and Jean couldn’t help but be amused. At last, she sat forward, muttered an amused, “Fine,” and shed her leather jacket, leaving it in a heap as she stood to give Leria a better view.

  “Sorry,” Leria said sheepishly. “It’s just, I’ve never seen so much natural muscle up close.” She began to reach out, then pulled back. “You don’t mind if I … touch it? Do you?”

  “Just go for it,” Jean smirked, then flexed her left arm while hiding her right. The scar running through her forearm was a source of embarrassment, not won in a worthwhile fight. Leria’s fingers traced the contours of Jean’s muscular bicep, but stopped short at her elbow before withdrawing. Jean’s unnaturally engorged forearm was the subject of her trepidation.

  “Why are you so different here?” she asked. “I mean, compared to your friends, you’re the only one … who…”

  “Just part of what I am,” Jean replied, brushing off Leria’s concern. “Why I can do what I can do.”

  Jean could tell it wasn’t enough to slake Leria’s curiosity, so she placed her palm flat to a nearby pole, and tested it with subtle vibrations. It did not conduct far and nothing it connected to could tear the car apart—Jean had been sloppy in the past and caused great harm because of it. She wanted to do better.

  Confidently, she increased the vibrations, and the pole rattled in place. Leria covered her mouth, gawking in wonder. Though Jean tried not to overdo it, other passengers on the train, including some of her own allies, had begun to take notice. She had taken the hint and was about to stop when Flynn glanced at her.

  Abruptly, the pole rattled sharply and wrenched loose from one of its support bases. “Fuck! Shit!” Jean stammered as she caught it. The top end was jagged and sharp, and between letting it hang—where it could easily impale someone—or twisting it free, she opted for the latter, and rolled it under her seat.

  Leria leaned close and spoke low, to avoid more unwanted attention. “What else can you do? Is it just small things like that, or—?”

  “I can do more.” Jean wasn’t bragging. She’d ripped up a street in the city of Crescent and cracked a natural stone pathway in Oma. Weeks before, she’d nearly toppled an ivory spire on Terrias, in a desperate bid to bury the Living God. She shared none of this, but the look on Leria’s face said she was beginning to consider the possibilities.

  Leria made no attempt to hide the envy in her voice. “If I was born with something like that … something that could make them respect what I could do with what I was given instead of what they gave me—”

  “It’s got its share of problems,” Jean warned, reaching out to tap Leria’s prosthetic arm with her knuckle. Self-consciously, Leria hid it behind her back, as Jean went on, “You don’t ever lose control with that thing, do ya?”

  “No, it’s … it’s calibrated to feel just like a real arm,” she said. “Just stronger, I guess.”

  Jean glanced down at her own palm. “Time was I could barely control what I’ve got. Took years to get it down, and a lot of damage along the way.” She looked Leria cold in the eyes. “I ain’t a monster. Things I’ve done with these hands though, plenty of people’d tell ya otherwise.”

  “Have you…” Leria hesitated to ask. The impatient look on Jean’s face told her to spit it out. “…ever used them on a person before?”

  Reluctantly, Jean nodded. “Twice. Second time was on purpose. Lots of fuckers, all tryin’ to hold me down. First time was on accident. Awful enough thing that first time, to make me not want to do it again.”

  The train slowed to a halt at another way station, and Jean clammed up when a woman whose synthetics stopped at her neck took a seat.

  * * *

  By sunset, the train arrived at yet another way station, where a few more passengers joined its journey to the mainland. Flynn sat in suppressed silence, the rift he’d been sensing all day now somewhere deep below them. Whether it was in the station’s depths or on the ocean floor, he could not say. There was no way to know or investigate, so
he did nothing.

  The tedium of their long ride had settled in, and so too had Flynn’s companions. Zaja slept on Mack’s leg, while Mack himself was contemplating how to move without waking her. Leria and Jean were engaged in small talk while Chari sat alone, studying a tablet computer she’d stolen from the school. Poe remained resolute, perched still like a gargoyle.

  Mack looked up at him and, after some consideration, asked, “You’ve been sitting that way all day. Is yer butt sore?”

  Poe gave an extended pause, then a brief reply. “A little.”

  Two hooded travelers boarded just as the train doors shut. The vehicle lurched abruptly forward, prompting a startled yelp from Leria. The hooded duo took a seat near the door adjoining the next car. Like Flynn, both kept themselves concealed. The woman who’d boarded earlier—all machine, save her head—glanced at the pair. The shorter one looked away.

  As the way station vanished in the distance, a different passenger pressed his index finger to his ear, resting his palm against his mouth. It took Flynn a moment to realize a phone was embedded in the hand.

  Flynn was prepared to ignore these things, but there was something odd about the smaller hooded figure’s posture. The individual wasn’t small, but merely seemed so in the company of the other, who was notably larger.

  Shy? No … avoidant. Flynn studied his target, the way they twisted in frustration. It’s a forced action. Out of character. They don’t like hiding.

  The woman from before glanced casually around the car, taking note of Zaja and Mack before locking eyes with another passenger. It’s not a fluke, Flynn concluded. He glanced up at Poe, removed his spectacles, and subtly jerked his head to indicate the hooded pair. Poe reached for the wrapped sword at his lower back, and held it in wait.

  Flynn moved to sit next to Zella, who bristled at his company but followed his eyes to the man on the phone who’d been seated behind him. The passenger reacted to being noticed, turning away and focusing on the tablet flopping lazily in his hand.

  Flynn then glanced at Chari, who nodded in resignation before turning to sharply whisper, “Mack. Catch.” She tossed her tablet to him, and he startled, waking Zaja in the process. Zaja sat up and rubbed her eyes, then promptly shut the window against the cold.

  And for a time, nothing else happened.

  Flynn observed the passengers in the car ahead of them, and noticed that they moved like flesh and blood, not in the mathematically precise way of the people of this world. What was more, the Brethians in the next car were vacating little by little, their prejudice surrendering a space they could have shared. Flynn and his companions were in the train’s tail, where they could be trapped and overwhelmed in a matter of minutes.

  Rather than surrender any further advantage, Flynn stood and tore aside his coverings, tossing them to the ground. He pocketed his spectacles in the vest he wore beneath and addressed his fellow riders, focusing on the hooded pair, who’d perked up at his actions.

  “I think it’s time to end this cheap charade,” he suggested.

  The smaller hooded figure began to rise eagerly before the taller one stopped him. He unraveled his coverings, replying, “I was going to play this out a little longer, but very well. You’ve played your hand.”

  Flynn did not recognize the man before him, with pale scars etched into his tan skin. But Leria did, her eyes widening with realization and then relief.

  “So who is he, Leria?” Flynn didn’t take his attention away from the stranger.

  “Ah … he…” Leria stammered. When Jean glared sharply, she cowed in confession. “Crescen.”

  Jean promptly kneed her in the gut, and Leria curled to her seat, clutching her stomach. Jean tore away the material concealing her mace and thrust the spiked head dangerously close to the schoolgirl’s face. “Stay. Put.”

  Mack rose in disbelief. “Ler…?”

  Crescen stepped slowly and deliberately into the center aisle, holding his hands up in surrender. “We’re not here to make a mess. We’ve learned better than to take your whole lot hostage after the damage you caused at Borudust Castle.”

  “You’ve come only to claim a few of us, then?” Poe asked from the back of the train car. He had begun unraveling the covering on his sword when the woman with the flesh-and-blood head produced a pistol and took a shot that hit right near Poe’s arm. He froze, trembling; he had never been shot at before.

  “I seek only Lord Renivar’s daughter,” Crescen replied. “And Miss Rujet, of course. She’s done her part.”

  “You only wish to take me?” Zella asked suspiciously.

  “Then I’ve fallen beneath your interest?” Poe asked with strained patience. He wrung the still-wrapped blade in his hands, but the thick fabric did not tear.

  Crescen simply shook his head and smiled. “No, no … you missed the debate we’ve had concerning just what to do with you. But for the matter of a could-be god, it’s all come to one simple question: Will your sympathies be turned to our side?”

  “They will not,” Poe confirmed. “I will take my rightful power and butcher your so-called ‘Living God’ where he kneels.”

  “Then we want the same thing,” Crescen replied. His companion, and several others, all turned to him abruptly. Realizing his error, Crescen shook his head and laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Your ascension is what we seek. It’s the means to the same ends—stabilizing Lord Renivar’s circle of power. Keeping the whole of Reality from unraveling before he rises free once more. Continue your journey then, Guardian. And take them all with you … the betrayer, the priestess, the sickly girl … take them all.”

  “Except me,” Zella stated.

  “You, we need,” Crescen confirmed. “I apologize, Zella. There is no negotiation on this, but that you can make the survival of your companions a more certain thing.”

  At this threat to his allies, Flynn had to take a moment to keep his emotions in check. Crescen stood patiently, and Flynn rapidly gathered the obvious facts while keeping himself between Zella and her abductor-intended.

  “You have a few minutes to decide how you want to do this.” Crescen was kind and confident. “We don’t want any blood.”

  But if needed, it shall be spilt. A different Crescen spoke in Flynn’s mind, one that he had gleaned from this brief interaction. Only two of you are needed for this to work: the Guardian, to become a god, and you, to bring him there.

  Jean and Mack. Chariska and Zaja. They were expendable to Crescen, and Flynn despised being caught with nothing to bargain. He thought of grabbing one of the closer Reahv’li, before his reading of Crescen reminded him: We all give our lives for the Living God. There are no hostages among us you can take.

  Yet there remained an option both sides had failed to consider. Flynn looked at Zella, who tried to step back, raising her arms defensively.

  She wasn’t fast enough. Within moments, Flynn caught her by the wrist and wrenched her into a headlock, swiftly pressing his claws against her throat. She struggled to get free, and Flynn jerked her upright, that Crescen and all the Reahv’li could see her exposed neck and her face, twisted in stunned disbelief, flush and sweating from this sudden turn.

  “Flynn! What … are you…?!” Her voice was strained from limited air.

  “I don’t need you alive to make this work,” he reminded her. “They do.”

  Crescen, startled by this turn of events, signaled his followers to halt. Flynn pressed his claws against Zella’s flesh, minute dots of blood pooling at the tips. Red blood, glowing with a blue aura.

  “I will rip her open.”

  Flynn spared his captive little leeway to fight back and, for her part, Zella didn’t try. Whether she believed this was all a bold ruse didn’t matter; a darker part of Flynn’s heart would kill her to outmaneuver his enemies and take away from them what he could not keep for himself.

  Even so, part of hi
m was hesitant. When they’d first reunited, Flynn had genuinely wanted to help her, and that desire hadn’t changed. But things do not always end as one hopes.

  After a tense moment of indecision from both sides, Jean turned to Flynn and demanded, “The hell are ya doin’?” Leria seized the moment, ducking past her and running to Crescen’s side. “Fuckin’ hell!”

  Behind him, Flynn’s allies were approaching. Poe was able to finish unbinding his blades, while Chari unveiled an advanced rifle of Earthly origin.

  Flynn knew that as the scene dragged out, the doubt his friends felt for him would only grow. He debated freeing Zella. He had to act quickly.

  “Let us through,” Flynn ordered.

  Crescen faltered, but his companion gave a sure warning. “He’ll do it.” Flynn recognized the voice of Arronel, and knew the next minutes would be delicate.

  Crescen nodded and stepped aside, bidding his allies to do the same. “You have no greater hostage we can take,” he conceded.

  One by one, Flynn’s allies advanced to the adjacent car, those who had weapons keeping them at the ready. Flynn himself steadily followed, struggling with Zella, who breathed with an unsteady, nervous rhythm.

  Flynn had almost made it through the door when he noticed Leria, who had abruptly broken ranks and dived to the ground, drawing from under the seats the pole that Jean had accidentally wrenched loose earlier. She charged, screaming some furious battle cry, and Flynn was forced to throw Zella into the next car so he could catch Leria’s weapon by the shaft, wrenching it away where it otherwise would have fatally injured him.

  Pain like fire erupted in his right side as he fought to keep the spear from burrowing deeper, before he finally wrenched it free and staggered back into the next car, just as Zella dragged the door shut by its emergency handles, straining to hold it tight. Flynn fell against it, exhausted, his hand falling across the window in a streak of his own blood.

  * * *

  At first it had all become violence and noise, and Zaja could only press against the wall for safety as those companions who were able to desperately fought off the Reahv’li soldiers. She could do nothing here, her whip too long and unwieldy to use effectively, and she watched as Flynn erratically struck at anyone who reached for Zella, who was keeping an uneasy distance from him.