Burden of Sisyphus (35 page)

           
Her Initiate’s garb was gone, replaced by the thick, black suit from the previous day.
 
Keryn looked from her pistol to the crowd, knowing her gun would never stop them all.
 
The faceless audience didn’t wear jousting suits, which meant her knife was useless against them.

           
“You’re pathetic,” an arrogant, familiar voice called from the wall behind her.
 
“You were a failure from the moment you entered the Academy.”

           
Keryn turned angrily.
 

           
Standing atop the wall, her back to the cliff, Sasha sneered at the Wyndgaart.
 
She wore the same jousting suit Keryn wore.
 
Sasha’s spiteful eyes narrowed to slits.
 
Her wings outstretched, the Avalon mocked her from her delicate perch.

           
“You never deserved to be in the Academy!” Sasha shouted.
 
“You’re a savage!”

           
Groping fingers closed around Keryn’s hair, tugging and pulling her toward the vengeance-driven crowd.
 
Their eerie silence haunted Keryn, as she threw an elbow against the nearest person.
 
He collapsed backward without a word and was swallowed by the surging crowd.

           
Sasha backed closer to the edge until only her toes gripped the wall.
 
She snarled at Keryn, as the audience reached out with pale and dark hands, trying to pull her into their seething mass.
 
Keryn’s hatred of the pompous Avalon swelled, as Sasha screamed obscenities at her.

           
“You’ll never graduate as long as I’m here,” Sasha said over the shuffling of mindless feet.
 
“The only way to beat me is to kill me!”

           
With her last cry, Sasha leaned backward and disappeared over the edge of the cliff.
 
Keryn, breaking free of the clawing hands, rushed toward the edge.
 
Catching sight of the pale wings plummeting farther away, Keryn didn’t break stride and launched herself over the edge of the Warrior’s Circle.

           
She became weightless, as she free fell toward the ocean.
 
Her silver hair trailed behind, while the cliff shot past in a blur.
 
Tightening her grip on her pistol, she kept her eyes on the falling Avalon.
 
She could still see Sasha’s sardonic smile, as she watched the Wyndgaart descend.
 
Tucking her arms to her side and angling downward, Keryn dived, intent on crashing headlong into the Avalon.

           
As she drew closer, Sasha’s body jerked violently, though the scornful smile never faded from her lips.
 
The center of her abdomen distended, rounding as though she were pregnant, before a spear tip burst through her skin.
 
Sasha slid down the shaft, smearing tip and haft with dark, red blood.
 
Though she was impaled, malicious laughter bubbled from her throat.
 
She moved her lips as if speaking, her words carried hauntingly on the wind, reaching Keryn’s ears like distant whispers.

           
“The only way to beat me is to kill me,” the disembodied voice whispered.
 
“The only way to beat me is to kill me.
 
The only way….”

           
Keryn pulled her pistol from her side, the muscles in her arms straining, as she struggled to aim at the martyred Avalon below.
 
Pulling Sasha into the sights, she squeezed the trigger.
 
Blue light leaped from the end of the barrel.
 
The contemptuous smile never left Sasha’s lips, even when the laser struck her chest.

           
Instead of paralyzing Sasha, it struck her like a rock hitting a window.
 
Her body cracked, sending fine, spider-webbed fractures across her torso and down her arms and legs.
 
A crack split her face and her ever-present smile in two.
 
Still, bubbling laughter mocked Keryn.
 
She fired again, and the second laser struck the same spot.
 
Sasha’s body shattered like glass, sending shards of the Avalon and the spear spiraling away toward the ocean.

           
With the laughter gone, all Keryn heard was the whipping of the wind and the thunderous waves.

           
Still falling, she saw the jutting rocks reaching from the waves like the teeth of a hungry monster.
 
Keryn plummeted toward the open maw of rock and saltwater, falling hopelessly to her death.
 
The fear that gripped her returned tenfold.
  
She’d been so focused on killing Sasha, she never considered the consequences when she leaped from the ledge.
 
As she passed the two-thirds mark of her fall, she realized how shortsighted she’d been.

           
Keryn threw out her arms, hoping to slow her descent.
 
Tears stung her eyes and burned in her chest, a mixture of fear and regret spilling down her cheeks and falling away behind her.
 
Through blurry vision, four lines coalesced, blocking her sight of the deadly rocks.
 
They thickened and formed sturdy, glowing fingers.

           
Following the fingers, she saw Iana’s disembodied face, smiling compassionately.
 
Beside her, Bellini appeared, and another hand materialized below her.
 
Other faces emerged, those of cadets she met and befriended during her training, their hands joining the first two.

           
Slowly, the fingers interlocked and crossed.
 
As they thinned, they left behind a gossamer net of softly glowing yellow light.
 
Keryn struck the net, and it collapsed around her.
 
Though she still fell, it felt as though she passed through water.
 
The net enveloped her, wrapping her in a secure cocoon.

           
Slowly, the net tightened, constricting her movements.
 
It became tighter and tighter, as she struggled to move, and, eventually, breathe.
 
What once appeared as a safety net became a prison.
 

           
Beyond the gossamer glow, the faces of her friends were replaced by the faces of Sasha and her cohorts.
 
The yellow net turned red and squeezed tighter.
 
When her diaphragm constricted, Keryn could no longer find the air to breathe.

           
Darkness crept into her vision, as spots of light danced before her eyes.

           
Keryn awoke with a start, her body bathed in sweat.
 
Sitting upright in bed, she found herself within the comforting darkness of her barracks room.
 
From the far side of the room, she heard the comforting Iana’s deep breathing.

           
Climbing from bed, Keryn stumbled to the bathroom, her body aching from phantom exertion.
 
She closed the door and turned on the light.
 
The reflection that stared back was clearly hers.
 
The doppelganger Voice was gone, replaced by the authentic Keryn.
 
Her disheveled hair was matted to the side of her head with sweat.
 
Remembering her dream, she absently rubbed her burned hand and looked at it.
 
Callused but unmarred skin met her gaze.

           
Wiping sweat from her brow, she struggled to remember the details of her nightmare.
 
Her body was drenched as if she just ran through the Academy’s burning halls.
 
Since she was awake, the nightmare was already fading, slipping through the recesses of her mind like sand through an hourglass.

           
Angrily, she turned off the light and walked blindly back to bed.
 
By the time she lay down and pulled the blanket over her stomach, most of the dream was lost.
 
All her subconscious held was powerful imagery and emotion.
 
Whether by her own accord or by some scheming of the Voice, she remembered the deep-seated message carefully concealed among the troubling images.
 

           
Lying in bed, Keryn smiled softly into the darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

           
The sun cast broken rays of light through the patchwork metal plates screwed over the windows.
 
Squinting, Vance looked up at the beams, as they fell over his face.
 
He stretched, trying to relieve the pain that settled into his lower back.

           
He spent most of the night in the hall outside the control room, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.
 
Vance let the sound of the Seques’ howls and clawing against the building’s exterior soothe him into a trance.
 
Sleep hadn’t come, though he wasn’t sure if he would’ve welcomed it even if it were possible.
 
He fought the yawn that intruded and rubbed drowsiness from his eyes.

           
Casting a look into the control center, he saw Yen and Decker hard at work, deciphering pages of text buried in the computer files.
 
Their bleary red eyes and slouched facial expressions told Vance what he already suspected.
 
Neither of the soldiers slept all night.
 
With the adrenalin purged from their systems, the aches and pains of fleeing the Seques the previous night settled uncomfortably in every joint and muscle.

           
Shaking free the pins and needles coursing through his calves and feet, Vance walked through the outpost to check the other survivors.
 
Most huddled against walls, weapons clutched protectively against their chests.
 
Living through a night of fear left their faces drawn and sunken.
 
Their haunting eyes followed him, as he passed.
 
He wasn’t sure what their reaction would be if he approached.
 
All were on edge, waiting for a single Seque to discover a weakness in their defenses and slaughter them all.
 
If Vance made a sudden move toward any of those soldiers, there was a strong chance he’d be shot.

           
Lost in his thoughts, Vance ignored his surroundings and kept walking.
 
The one thing he never wanted was to carry the guilt and heartache of losing more soldiers.
 
His team relied on him to carry them through every hardship.
 
Most of them were dead, and his heart was hardened to the two who survived.
 
Even if inadvertently, their actions caused countless deaths.

           
Still, he wondered if his hatred was misplaced.
 
Eza and Yen made a dangerously poor decision to open the disk, but Captain Young was the one who destroyed them.
 
He sent them into a trap and executed Aleiz.
 
Vance’s desire for vengeance returned, surging through his blood.
 
He would find a way off the planet if for no other reason than to exact that revenge.

           
“How long do you plan to ignore us?” Eza called from behind.

           
He was so lost in thought, he walked past the Wyndgaart without noticing him.

           
Vance paused, then shrugged.
 
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
 
“Ignoring you seems like the best course of action, especially in our current situation.”

           
Eza slid from the table on which he sat and walked up beside the Pilgrim.
 
“Yen and I screwed up.
 
We both know that.
 
Don’t you think we feel enough guilt already for what happened here?”

           
“I don’t know.”
 
He turned toward Eza with a stern stare.
 
“Do you feel guilty enough for all these soldiers’ deaths?
 
Do you feel guilty enough for Nova, Ainj, Tusque, and Ixibas?
 
How about for Aleiz?”