A TRAIL OF blood led the way for Sabira to follow. The splatter was the dark red ochre of Human blood mixed with the malachite green of Warseers. Grandfather Spear must have also been injured. The blood trail should lead her to both of them. Of course, Spear would realize that, too.
She stalked them through one of the smaller corridors, about three meters wide and high, with a tightly curving and descending spiral that limited her line of sight. Many corridors of similar or smaller size intersected it. Every corner and blind spot needed clearing before she moved on. After several intersections, the trail turned to follow a new spiral, then turned again, and again. Either Spear was trying to confuse any would-be pursuers, or they were trying to find their own quickest way to the Hara.
Sabira pulled the handheld device from her harness strap and checked the compass. Seemed like she was headed in the direction of the Hara, but wasn’t confident. If worse came to worse, she could follow the blood trail back to the main spiral and try to catch up with the others.
With every step, a question nagged her. Would killing that godsdamned warseer mean she’d have to kill Grandfather Spear, too? The thought chilled her heart. But it might be the only chance she and her new family had to live free. Spear would stand between Sabira and the Gohnzol-Lo until his dying breath. If she could get around him, eliminate the warseer first, maybe she could make him see . . .
No. He would never betray his Gods. Even if no warseers or Divine Masters remained in all the galaxy, he would never lose faith. Not Grandfather Spear.
When she reached the next intersection, voices echoed from up ahead, coming from both corridors. They spoke in Ihziz-Ri, the high language of the Holy Unity. Few humans could speak it, though all nameless khvazol understood. Sabira wasn’t close enough to pick up every word, but heard something about a hub of intersecting passages and uncertainty in picking the right one.
Sabira compared the curve of the two corridors. Since the echo issued from both directions, the two must intersect again up ahead; the hub Spear and Zika were discussing seemed most likely. Knowing the trail of blood led directly to them, Spear would be guarding the way they had just come. If Sabira followed the intersecting corridor, she might have a chance to sneak up and catch them unawares. Hopefully, that would give her a shot at Zika before Spear could step in.
She turned into the new corridor, keeping tight along its inner curve. The echoes soon resolved into clear voices. With her shields depleted, she couldn’t afford a single mistake. One hit from a plasma bolt and she was dead, yarist gem or no yarist gem. But if she attacked from too far and didn’t take out the warseer immediately, Spear would have time to get between them. Maybe that was inevitable, no matter what she tried.
Once Sabira spotted the first sliver of the archway opening to the hub, she stopped. Taking a slow, deep, and silent breath, she pulled out the gem. Once more, the transformative rage boiled through her blood. After the initial rush burned itself into her muscle, bone, and tendon, she dared quick, darting looks to her right.
Dingy, yellow light oozed through the archway. She couldn’t see either of them but heard them clearly. The warseer muttered to herself. Spear’s breathing was ragged and heavy.
Gem-inspired fury urged her to rush into battle. Focusing past the impulse, and leading the way with her laser pistol, she dared only a few steps more. She caught a glimpse of Zika. Still partially out of view, the warseer stood sideways to Sabira, within a hub of many intersecting spirals. The warseer inspected one passage after another, steadily moving into Sabira’s view. Which meant she would be dead center in the opening to Sabira’s corridor at any moment. A wide-open target, but able to see Sabira’s attack coming.
The Gohnzol-Lo stepped toward the archway and Sabira exploded into action, firing as she ran. The laser seared into the warseer’s armor-plated shoulder. Godsdammit. She had been going for a headshot. Sabira ran, shooting streams of laser fire. Little flames blossomed all over Zika’s armor. Steam and smoke billowed. Trying to find cover, the warseer spun, unable to return fire under Sabira’s barrage.
Sabira charged relentlessly for the archway but still hadn’t seen Spear. Where was he?
The blindspot.
On her last stride before reaching the hub, Sabira jumped. Between her gem-fueled strength and the micro-gravity, she soared through the archway, meters above Grandfather Spear’s surprise attack. He swung his palukai blade into the empty air below her. Their gazes met as she leaped over and passed into the hub.
The warseer’s blow didn’t miss. In a blur of crushing power, Zika swatted Sabira out of the air like a troublesome bug. She slammed into the hard floor, knocking the wind from her lungs and the pistol from her hand.
Then Zika was on her. Gripping her long fingers deep into Sabira’s neck and shoulder, she lifted Sabira over her head, feet dangling helplessly, and slammed her into a wall. Her bubble helmet cracked, fractures spider-webbing around her head. Popping noises bit sharply into her ears. Before Sabira could gather her wits, Zika slammed her again. The helm burst into a thousand crude shards that fell light and tinkling to the floor. Somehow, the gem remained clutched in her hand. Otherwise, her skull would have been crushed by the impact.
Sabira had one more gun. She reached for the holster on her left side. The warseer laughed, pulled Sabira back, and slammed her into the wall once more. Sabira’s vision swam with streaking stars. The yarist gem slipped from her cold, numb fingers.
With her free hand, Zika took Sabira’s remaining pistol and tossed it over her shoulder. The warseer lifted away her helmet and brought her three orange and black eyes to within centimeters of Sabira’s. The warseer’s breath steamed over her face. Sabira’s vision blurred and darkened. Those three piercing eyes were all she could see.
“The apostate came right to me!” Zika shouted in Ihziz-Ri and laughed. Her voice was ragged. A streak of blackened, cauterized flesh was smeared across her neck from Sabira’s previous attack. “The Gods love my nine horns! Oh the miracle of human stupidity, it truly is a marvel. I don’t give a grank’s asshole what the handmaiden has to say about it, your skull will make a prize trophy. I can’t wait to see the face of your Black Devil when I drop your severed head at his—”
A flash of red heat. The back of the warseer’s head vaporized into dust and smoke before she finished her sentence. Zika’s eyes widened in shock, before drooping, unfocused and lifeless.
Sabira slid down the wall. Stumbling, she fell to one side as the warseer toppled to the other. Sabira gasped, desperately trying to get her wind back.
Grandfather Spear knelt down and laid his palukai on the floor between them.
“Please,” he said in Khvaziz, their shared human language, “get this thing out of me. Get them out of my head.”