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THE NEXT FEW SECONDS, or minutes, or maybe even hours passed in a furious whirl of slashing blades and clanging metal. The urgency of the fight took over all my senses. As quickly as I had tossed myself into the fray, I was surrounded by enemies, all of whom shared the same goal—to keep me from advancing. I focused all my energy on recalling every shred of training Stas had ever ironed into my brain.
Keep your hands up. Never let your guard down. Watch your footwork. Don’t turn your back.
The last one was all but impossible, of course. Someone was constantly behind me, trying to get in cheap shots where I couldn’t easily block them. I kept up with it for as long as I was able, but as time wore on and my energy began to flag, I felt those hits start to connect. Not a whole lot, but enough for me to recognize the formation of a slippery slope.
For the moment, adrenaline negated the pain and I struck back twice as hard. It was gratifying to look over my shoulder and see the section of hallway I’d cleared. Nonetheless, I knew it wouldn’t last. The rebels were only getting bigger, faster, stronger. One guy closed in on me like a truck, wielding some kind of brutish club too big and heavy for me to mitigate at all. The gnarled end of the weapon crashed into my ribs. It felt like my lungs turned inside out.
I staggered backward, gasping. The impact seemed to have drained color from my vision, and everything was blurred. The floor came rocking into view as I doubled over and immediately made the effort to straighten up again; exposing any vulnerability like that meant defeat in short order. But it was getting harder and harder to keep it together. I gazed down the remaining length of the hall and thought viciously about how unfair it was that Raven didn’t even have the decency to come out and finish me off on her own.
A shadow fell across my vision. I glanced up and saw the massive club raised high, aimed directly for my head. Well, maybe it’ll be quick, at least, I thought grimly. I wonder what Stas is going to say.
The club never came down. I was ready for it, braced and everything, pretending to accept the imminence of death. Instead, a loud crack vibrated the air over my head, and I was showered with flying splinters of wood. The behemoth with the club stumbled back much as I just had. I caught sight of a healthy gouge in the side of the weapon.
“Get up!” someone barked at my side. The voice had a certain indescribable quality that made me snap instantly to attention. I dragged a stinging breath into my lungs, forced my body into a fighting stance. Why did this person sound so familiar?
“Come on, Amber! Let’s go!” Colvin’s voice I placed instantly. My head snapped around to locate him so fast it might have flown off my neck. He was flanking me on the other side, grappling with rebels who appeared to pose little threat. In his armor, he made Raven’s cronies look like kids on an extremely violent playground. “Keep pushing forward. You’ve got this.”
The arrival of backup, even if it was only two, bolstered my constitution. Turning away from Colvin, I ignored the pain throbbing in my ribs like a second heart and faced the advancing tide of rebels. They were stronger now, and taller, but by and large, they were also slower. I ducked, bobbed, and weaved around and under strikes that could have cut me in two, had they landed. Keep pushing forward. One enemy at a time.
I couldn’t have pinpointed exactly when the tide of the fight began to change. The endless waves of rebel henchmen ebbed, their numbers thinning out. I barely kept track of how many I’d sent crumbling to the ground in a heap, vaguely hoping they weren’t actually dead. Not that death would’ve stopped me by then. I just wanted to make it to Raven.
And I wanted to uncover the identity of Colvin’s mysterious cohort. As the three of us battled our way down the hall, I caught periodic glimpses of the figure in my periphery. They were also armored, but their gear was different than Colvin’s—not as bright, not as lustrous. They were, however, miles better than either me or Colvin at the whole fighting thing. I would not have been surprised to learn that their feet never touched the ground.
Who the heck is that? I turned to meet my latest adversary and saw the mysterious guard execute a smooth pirouette almost faster than my eye tracked, cutting down one of the last heavy hitters. Then I watched them sidestep the falling rebel without so much as a second glance and move right on to the next. That sort of effortless fluidity was precisely the kind of motion Stas strove to cultivate in me, with mixed results.
Just briefly, I felt transported back to the studio in Seattle, watching Stas demonstrate a form.
“Move, Amber!” Reality snapped back in just in time for me to dodge an attack aimed right for my throat. The edge of the blade grazed my neck as it slid by. I drove my sword in below the rebel’s armpit, eliciting a yelp of pain. She dropped her weapon, crumpling backward, clutching the site of the wound. Blood bloomed between her fingers.
“Oh, God.” I couldn’t apologize. There wasn’t time, and I was too busy keeping memories of Hamion’s death from surfacing in my mind. Not only that, but I had just noticed that the walls and floor of the hall were streaked with blood and other evidence of the grueling challenge Raven had forced upon us.
“Focus!” the strange guard barked again. “Don’t let them get the better of you.” The voice was very close, and when I looked to the side again, I met the guard’s eyes through his helmet. Those eyes were familiar too; the color, the expression they carried. “We’re close,” he said. “Just a little longer.”
Then it hit me, harder than any strike from the gauntlet. The force of the revelation practically sent me reeling. I stared at those eyes, momentarily speechless.
“Stas?”
“Not now,” the guard responded curtly. “Pay attention. Finish what you started.”
It had to be him. It just had to be, but at the same time, I knew it was impossible. I was in the hospital when Stas died, on my way back from the stupid vending machines. There was a funeral. People offered condolences.
Yet, that was his voice coming from under the helmet, wasn’t it? Or was my brain just playing cruel tricks out of exhausted desperation? I needed to know, and that need spurred another burst of energy. I swept through the last ranks of Raven’s henchmen, pushing harder and harder with each passing second. The door to the throne room was so close—twenty more feet and I could have touched it with my hands.
I didn’t sense the tunnel vision closing in until it enveloped my whole perspective. All I could see was that door, behind which Raven smugly waited. The nearer I got, the less I cared about who was left. In my head, all the answers were hidden beyond that door. Raven’s motives, a return to my rightful throne, and the identity of the guard who sounded so much like Stas.
I also did not see the last rebel charging toward me, or the weapon raised in my direction. All I heard was Colvin shouting something indistinct. A deafening sound blotted out every other iota of noise in the hall. And then everything faded to black.
“Amber? Come on... you can do it.”
My eyelids fluttered and squeezed tight against the harsh intrusion of light from above. I groaned, dimly aware of the harsh pounding in my right temple. The hard ground beneath me highlighted every injury marring my body. I felt my heart beating in each cut and bruise.
After a moment or two, I fought my eyes at least partway open. Colvin was leaning over me and looking down into my face. He smiled.
“Hey, there you are. How are you feeling?”
“Like crap,” I muttered. All my muscles screeched in protest when I tried to sit up, but I insisted. Colvin took my arm and eased me upward. He rested a hand in the small of my back. I glanced around. The sight of the hallway leading up to the throne room triggered a flood of memory; suddenly, I knew exactly what we were supposed to be doing—and what had happened just prior to waking up on the floor.
I gasped. “Raven!” Were it not for my current condition, I would have sprung to my feet and ran for the door. “What the heck are we doing?” I demanded. “We’ve got to go, now!”
“No, we don’t,” Colvin said gently. “You were out for a couple minutes, at most.” He gestured at the expanse of the corridor behind us. “We took care of the rest of them. As for Raven... she hasn’t said a word.”
The scene unfolding before me was nothing less than surreal. Among a litter of downed rebels, some of them groaning restlessly, one figure moved between the bodies, restraining them with everything from pieces of rope to their own belts. All the weapons were being piled in the center of the floor, out of reach of anyone who might want to use them.
Then I twisted around to examine the throne room door. It appeared to still be sealed tight. For all her taunting at the start of the gauntlet, Raven apparently wasn’t eager to show her face a second time. Still, it felt wrong to be sitting on my butt and waiting for something to happen. Like I was giving up the advantage we’d just gained.
I shook my head. “I can’t stay here like this. You watch the hall. I’m going in.”
“Can you relax for another two seconds?” Colvin held my hand. “Just give yourself a little time. I promise you’re not losing anything valuable.”
“How do you know?” I asked. Waiting at a time like this made me anxious as hell, and his nonchalance confused me.
“She has to know her guys have been taken down,” he answered. “If you think she was doing anything other than listening on the other side of that door this entire time, you’re wrong. We both know she wanted to hear you fail with her own ears.” He smirked. “And now her only options are to face you, or take the back passage out. I’m pretty sure she’d rather die than do the latter.”
I hesitated. Maybe Colvin was right. Raven’s pride had driven her to so many extremes already, would it let her retreat in shame? As I let go of a deep sigh, I noticed a band on my wrist. It looked like glowing white gold, and it was warm on my skin. “What’s this?”
“That’s the reason I want you to hold your horses.” Colvin kept my hand in his. “It’s a healing band. Also known as the field medic’s best friend. It’s healing your wounds right now.”
“Like the bed in the ship,” I said.
“Yeah, but more portable. They’re not as good for things like broken bones, but bruises and lacerations won’t be a problem. Unless you overexert yourself while the band is trying to work its magic.”
“Okay.” I got to my feet anyway and shifted my weight back and forth, eager to get things moving. This lull in the action still seemed weird and wrong. As I stood there, my eyes traced the path of the strange guard making his way across the corridor. “Colvin,” I said slowly, “do you know who that is?”
Colvin followed my gaze. “Him? Not really.” He paused. “Didn’t have time to think about it. There are a lot of Guardians in Evrion. Although, I will say his armor is unusual.”
“Aren’t you all supposed to look the same? Why does his stuff look so... dated?”
“Good question,” Colvin mused. “Daria would’ve made sure he had all his gear up to date.” A slight frown tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Can you check him out?” The powerful sense of urgency had returned. I couldn’t wait any longer. “I need to go.” In fact, much of the soreness and fatigue was receding from my body, thanks to that bracelet. This was as ready as I was ever gonna get.
“Hey, Amber.” Colvin pulled me back to him for one quick but meaningful kiss. “Good luck.” He pressed a key into my hand. “You’re going to need this.”
I gazed into his eyes. “Thanks.” Then he let me go and I jogged for the door. The key fit perfectly into the lock; as it turned, I heard a massive mechanism click into place.
Slowly, the throne room doors began to swing inward.
