Warrian could barely contain his panic upon seeing the damage done to Isa. The jeweled blade protruded grotesquely from her stomach, bobbing with every shallow breath she took. Blood soaked her wet gown, pooling beneath her pale body.
The urge to go to her screamed inside of him, but he didn’t dare give in until all threats to her were destroyed.
The Raide had done this to her, and for that alone, Warrian was going to kill it.
He whipped the garala into a narrow band and lunged for the Raide. It was faster than he remembered, and Warrian’s net scooped a section of stone pillar out where the Raide’s head had just been.
A noxious cloud of fumes rose up in his wake—some kind of toxin meant to kill or disable.
Warrian held his breath as he broke through the mist. His exposed skinned burned. His eyes felt like they were on fire. Tears streamed down his face.
Something heavy landed behind Warrian, but he didn’t stop to see what it was. He knew Talan and Radek would come, and if it wasn’t one of them, then they would deal with the additional threat. Warrian’s only target was the beast who’d hurt his Isa.
The Raide had looped around the imperial cannon to cling to the far side of its frame. Warrian lunged beneath it, using the rain to help him skid across the slick stone. Before he’d gained his feet, the Raide lifted his hand and the matte gray weapon he held.
A fiery bolt of orange light burst from the device, aimed right for Warrian’s head.
Black, insectoid bodies poured in through the window, falling on the stone floor like giant, oily raindrops.
Isa had no idea where they’d come from, but it hardly mattered. On one side of her were the steep stone steps leading to the weapon, and on all other sides, the spidery monsters worked to cut their way toward her.
Radek and Talan held them off, cutting through them faster than she could register. But there were so many. Too many. There was no way they could hold them off for long.
She could only think of one thing to do.
Isa pulled the knife from her gut, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming. She’d endured pain far worse than this, but the physical damage was scary as hell.
Blood welled from her wound, making her wonder if pulling out the blade had been such a good idea. Too bad it was the only one she had. She wasn’t going to let Warrian and the others die—especially not when she knew they’d come here to save her.
The stone steps were slippery. She pulled herself up, one by one. Her arms shook, and her progress was slow, but she finally made it all the way to the top.
The weapon’s seat loomed over her, another huge step away. It seemed like an impossible journey—more like leaping across the Grand Canyon than hoisting herself up a couple of feet.
Each movement made her bleeding worsen. The front of her gown was red now, the fabric heavy with the added weight of her blood. The stone beneath her was slick.
It took three tries to lift herself into the seat, and each one hurt worse than the last, but she pushed on, demanding that her body obey.
One of the Cyturs saw her and tried to cut through. Warrian appeared from above, dropping down just in time to keep those spindly claw-like hands from grabbing her. His garala swung through the air, a sinuous blue rope of light. A second later, the Cytur’s scaly head fell, bouncing past her down the bloody steps.
Isa had no breath to thank him. He had no time to pause. The next enemy moved in. Through the growing crowd, she could see the Raide’s yellow head slinking toward the far wall. Warrian had abandoned him in order to come back to her side, but it didn’t matter how far the Raide ran. There was nowhere to go but out through the hole in the roof or through the thick door where she could hear warriors pounding in an effort to break through.
She wanted to ask him to boost her into the chair, but he was already busy cutting down the next enemy crawling up the weapon’s housing.
With a painful force of will, Isa shoved her trembling, bleeding body up the last few inches and into the machine. She flopped back onto the cushions and panted as the familiar hum began to grow beneath her.
Isa closed her eyes and focused on the machine. She tried to tell it what was at stake—that if it let these creatures take her away, there would be no one left to feed it power. She’d sensed before that the device housed some kind of intellect—a faint hint of sentience she didn’t understand. It had used her before to defend itself. She didn’t understand now why it wouldn’t do the same thing.
As she struggled to communicate with the giant hunk of metal, she realized now why it wasn’t fighting back.
It knew she was too weak to win the battle. It knew that its best hope for survival lay with those who invaded in overwhelming numbers. Whatever intelligence this weapon had, it was betting on the bad guys, knowing that siding with them would ensure its continued survival.
She felt a faint flutter of awareness ripple through her—frigid, clean logic…and something else. Something laced with a hint of childlike confusion and fear.
Isa didn’t understand how it was possible that a hunk of pretty metal could feel anything, but it did. There was no sense in wasting time trying to figure out why when her only chance of saving Warrian and the others on this island was to figure out how to get the machine to understand that it didn’t want to let the Raide have it.
They’ll use you to hurt people. Use you to destroy countless lives.
The seat beneath her shuddered.
They’ll kill me, and you’ll have no one to feed you. You’ll be alone again.
The trace of fear she’d felt earlier solidified, curling around her like a terrified child’s hug.
I’ll give you what you need. I won’t leave you alone.
Unless it killed her, which was a distinct possibility.
I’ll find others who can feed you. Just do what I ask. Please.
The air around her trembled. She felt a huge, sucking sensation, like a tornado had formed inside her head. A second later, pain streaked through her, stealing her breath away.
As she hovered inside the agony, stretched so tight she knew her bones would snap, she felt the briefest flutter of thought pass through her mind. It wasn’t her thought. It wasn’t anything resembling humanity at all. It was far more intricate and detailed. Methodical. Logical. Everything had a place. Proper operation and functioning were shining imperatives that were never to be abandoned.
Hunger wove through each vibration. The need for survival thrummed around her so powerfully she didn’t know how she’d missed it before.
The machine needed—wanted—help. It was willing to fight, but it was starving to death after so many years of laying abandoned and alone with no one to fuel it.
What do you need? she asked it, hoping the thing could understand her.
Essence. The word shimmered through her mind.
Warrian had used that word before. It’s what they called DNA. Maybe that’s what the machine meant.
I won’t give you a child.
Essence, it repeated, this time with more force.
More people?
Yes.
There are no more people like me.
Bring me essence!
She was willing to give it all the essence it wanted, but she still didn’t understand what it meant. It wasn’t like she carried samples of other people’s DNA around with her.
Except for Warrian’s. He’d come inside her only hours ago. Remnants of his semen still had to be inside of her. Even if he had killed his sperm with the garala, his DNA would still be present, wouldn’t it? Even dead sperm held DNA.
As the question crossed the hazy edges of her mind, the pitch of the weapon changed.
Heat exploded out from her abdomen where she’d been stabbed, so intense she was sure it had to have left blisters in its wake. Her flesh felt like it was being welded back together from the inside out.
The entire world went away. Nothing existed beyond the agony shaping her body. She couldn’t think, couldn’t scream. All she could do was accept what the machine was doing to her. She knew when it was done there would be nothing left, but she didn’t fight it. So long as it was willing to take out those who were trying to hurt Warrian, she didn’t care. She relaxed and let it take what it wanted.