Akur (Restitution #3)

Akur

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Akur

He hung from his chains, each breath a struggle against broken ribs and the weight of his own body pulling at his dislocated shoulders. The cell block’s artificial lighting had dimmed to simulate night, but time held little meaning here. Only pain marked the passing hours—sharp spikes when he shifted wrong, dull throbs from his countless wounds, and the constant burning in his overtaxed muscles.

But worse than his own pain was watching Kon-stahns. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t moved from her vigil near the barrier separating them. Even in the dim light, he could see the tracks of dried eye waters on her face. The way her hands still trembled from the shock rod’s effects. The determined set of her jaw as she refused to look away from him, sharing his suffering.

“Rest,” he rasped, the word catching in his raw throat. “You need strength.”

“So do you.” Her voice sounded hoarse.

He wanted to laugh, but knew it would hurt too much. Resting was impossible in this position. The Tasqal knew that—it was part of their torture method. Keep the prisoner weakened, exhausted, vulner able to questioning. He’d seen it before. He’d even survived it before.

But he’d been younger then. Stronger.

And he hadn’t had someone he cared about being forced to watch.

“Tell me about your world,” he said. Maybe he could distract her. “The places you loved there.”

She gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was doing, but played along. “I used to go hiking in these mountains called the Rockies. There was this one trail that led to an alpine lake. The water was so clear you could see straight to the bottom, and in the morning, the surface would be like glass. You could see the reflection of everything around it. Like a painting…”

Akur let her voice wash over him, painting pictures of a world he’d never see. It helped him focus on something besides the agony wracking his frame. Helped him pretend he didn’t notice how his vision was greying at the edges, how each breath came a little harder than the last.

The internal damage was worse than he was letting on. He could feel it—the slow seep of lifeblood into places it shouldn’t be, the grinding of bone fragments with every movement.

He wouldn’t survive another session with the Tasqal’s implements.

The thought didn’t frighten him. He’d made his peace with death long ago. But the idea of Kon-stahns being left alone here, at their mercy…

His claws clenched into fists above the chains, sending fresh rivulets of blood running down his arms.

“Akur?” Kon-stahns had stopped talking. She was watching him now.

“Just adjusting,” he lied. “Tell me more about these mountains of rocks.”

Her upper lip disappeared into her mouth and something swelled in her eyes. Sadness. Such visible sorrow. But before she could say anything, a faint sound caught his attention. He stiffened, and she did, t oo. Footsteps, but lighter than the heavy tread of the guard patrols. Coming closer.

“Someone’s coming,” he warned in a whisper. “Stay back from the barrier.”

The footsteps stopped just by the door. There were muffled voices before two heavy thumps that made Kon-stahns jerk. Her wide eyes flew to him. Something was happening.

The door hissed open, but it wasn’t the Tasqal and its guards returning. Instead, a single robed figure slipped inside.

“Be silent,” it whispered, moving quickly to the control panel. “We have little time.”

Akur’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the voice. The same Tasqal who had helped them before; the one who had given them the map.

“You,” Kon-stahns breathed. “From the tunnels.”

The Tasqal made a soft hissing sound. “Quickly. The guards will change rotation soon. I can only give you moments to escape. Make them count.”

The energy barrier of Kon-stahns’ cell flickered and died. At the same moment, the chains holding him retracted into the wall, and they retracted too quickly. He crashed to the floor, unable to catch himself, a grunt of pain escaping before he could stop it.

Something soft was under him in an instant—Kon-stahns, her small frame straining under his weight, supporting him despite her own injuries. She shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t have to. He needed to be stronger, needed to protect her, not the other way around. Red hot shame washed over him, mingling with the pain. He swayed, his vision blurring. Just…keep moving. Don’t…don’t fall.

“Can you walk?” she asked.

Even trying not to lean on her was creating agony in his bones.

“Have to,” he growled, forcing his arms under him. Everything screamed in protest as he pushed himself up. The room spun like a ship caught in a vortex.

“The way to the landing bays will be cleared for exactly seven clicks,” the Tasqal said, still working at the controls. “After that, you’re on you r own. There’s a ship waiting in bay twelve. The codes are already loaded.”

Constance got her shoulder under Akur’s arm, obviously trying to take some of his weight. And he leaned on her more heavily than he wanted to. Even then, his legs didn’t seem to want to hold him.

“You’re helping us again.” She said to the Tasqal. “When they could find you here, with us.”

The Tasqal’s hands stilled on the controls, his head lowering slightly underneath his hooded garment. “Because change must begin somewhere. Even if it begins with treason.” He turned to face them. “Now. Quickly.”

They stumbled into the corridor. Each step sent daggers of pain through his chest. Breathing felt like the air was filled with shards.

The Tasqal beckoned as he slid out the door. “This way. Hurry.”

They followed, Akur fighting to keep his feet under him with each step. His body threatened to fail him, but he pushed through it. They had one chance. He wouldn’t waste it.

Just outside the door, they had to step over the bodies of two fallen Hedgeruds.

“I had no choice. They would have raised an alarm,” the Tasqal said, head tilting lower under the hood he wore. “Come.”

The corridors were mercifully empty as they made their way through the citadel. Eerily empty.

Was this another trap?

No. That didn’t make sense.

“Where are your minions? Your people?” Akur hissed.

The Tasqal tilted his head slightly in a way that made Akur know he was looking over his shoulder. “You have been captured, but the other, your comrade, has been found in the barren lands. Much of the High Guard has been diverted there as you pose no threat now.”

Gods. E’lot was in trouble.

“And your kin?” Akur asked.

The Tasqal faced forward again, robes shuffling as he hurried on. “A gathering has been called. We have a human now…or so they think. The next steps to retrieve that orb are being discussed. ”

Akur snarled, grunting as he forced his body to go on.

“You didn’t tell us you had an Arois.”

The Tasqal didn’t pause. “You cannot know too much. Not about me. Not about anything. The Arois might seem unresponsive, but his mind can still reach far.”

Kon-stahns glanced up at him, eyes searching his, and the worry within hers was clear, even though she didn’t say anything. But he understood what the Tasqal meant. If the Arois was working for the Tasqals, even being forced to, any information that passed through these walls would get back to them.

They pushed on, the Tasqal leading them through what seemed like endless identical hallways, occasionally pausing to check for guards or his kin.

“How much farther?” Kon-stahns whispered. “Akur is bleeding out.”

“Not far,” the Tasqal replied. “The ship is waiting in a landing bay two levels up.”

The corridor ahead stretched endlessly, each step an eternity of pain. Worse, his vision kept fading in and out. Only Kon-stahns’ grip kept him upright, her determination flowing into him, giving him the strength he needed. Even when his legs trembled with each step. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds, leaving a trail he knew would eventually betray them. But he kept moving, one foot in front of the other.

They reached a junction and the Tasqal froze, lifting a hand in warning. Voices echoed from around the corner.

He could feel Kon-stahns stiffen even as he looked for somewhere to hide. But they were in a stark white corridor. There was nowhere to go.

The Tasqal’s four-fingered hand tightened into a fist. “Stay here,” he whispered. “And be silent.”

Before they could protest, he straightened his robes and strode purposefully around the corner. His voice, when it came, held all the imperious authority of his high station. “What are you doing in this sector? ”

“High One!” The Hedgeruds’ response was immediate. “We are to relieve the ones guarding the jekin and the rebel.”

“They are locked away. They are no longer a priority.” There was a pause and Akur could almost feel Kon-stahns’ pulse pick up. “Every moment you waste here is a moment that other rebel draws closer to escape. Head to the barren lands immediately!"

“Yes, High One! At once!”

The sound of heavy footsteps heading in the other direction made Akur release a breath. Kon-stahns sagged underneath him.

“Come,” the Tasqal whispered. “The lift is ahead.”

They carried on. Turning another corner, the doors to the lift finally came into view. Even seeing it now, so close, it felt like a million leagues away.

Come on. You can do it. Don’t give up now.

The words filtered into his mind like a comforting mantra. One that didn’t sound like his inner voice till he realized it was the female beneath him saying the words over and over again.

“Come on, Akur. You can do it.”

And for her, he would.

Just as they neared the lift, an alarm began to wail. Only, it didn’t sound like it was coming from the walls or even above. It was coming from the Tasqal’s arm.

“What’s that sound?” Kon-stahns asked.

“Nothing good.” Akur forced his legs to move faster, ignoring the way his wounds reopened, the warm trickle of fresh lifeblood down his chest. Ignored the way his one arm hung limp and useless. He wasn’t healing. Not fast enough. Didn’t feel like he was regenerating at all. “Have to reach…the bay…before things get worse.”

The Tasqal lifted his arm, looking at a device strapped there.

“Citizen alert,” the Tasqal said. “They must have realized you’re missing. Hurry!”

They crowded into the lift; the Tasqal putting in a code that caused the lift to rise as Akur sagged against the wall, his legs finally giving out. Only Kon-stahns’ grip kept him from collapsing entirely .

“Stay with me,” she whispered. She was so close now, those bright eyes searching his face. “We’re almost there.”

Qrak.

For the first time in his existence, he didn’t want to die. Not while she still breathed.

The lift hummed as it carried them upward, each click stretching into eternity.

“Almost there,” Constance whispered, her grip on him tightening. He could feel her trembling with the effort of holding him up, but her voice remained steady. Strong. Like she always was.

The lift slowed, then stopped. The doors opened onto a vast chamber that made Kon-stahn inhale. The landing bay stretched before them, a massive space too big for what it was used for. Ships of various sizes dotted the space—some sleek and brand new, a few captured rebel craft, and…

“There.” The Tasqal pointed to a small shuttle near the far wall. “That one is prepared for you.”

Akur studied the vessel through blurring vision. A C-class transport—old, but reliable. Fast enough to break atmosphere, small enough to slip past orbital defenses. If they could reach it.

They stepped out of the lift, each movement igniting fresh waves of agony. Eyes focused on the transport, he still didn’t miss the slight gasp that came from Kon-stahns’ lips as she looked behind them and saw the pool of lifeblood he’d left behind. Too much. He was running out of time.

“I’ve input all necessary codes,” the Tasqal said as they made their slow way across the bay. “Forget about my original plan. This ship will take you to Hudo III. You will be safe there. It is beyond Tasqal space.” Then he looked up from under the hood of his robe. “And you find that orb. And you destroy it. By any means necessary.”

They were halfway to the ship when Akur’s legs buckled. He caught himself against a support pillar, breath coming in ragged gasps. Kon-stahns’ small hands pressed against his chest, trying to steady him .

“Just a little further,” she pleaded. “Please, Akur. Don’t you dare leave me now. We’re so close.”

He forced himself upright, leaning heavily on her. One step. Another. The ship grew closer, its promise of freedom almost tangible now.

“Thank you,” Kon-stahns said to the Tasqal. “For everything.”

She was thanking the fiend when it was his kind that put them in this situation in the first place. His mortal enemies.

Akur’s jaw clenched, decades of hatred and suspicion warring with the undeniable truth before him—this enemy had risked everything to help them escape. The same race that had imprisoned him, tortured him, was now offering salvation. His pride demanded rejection, but Kon-stahns’ warmth against his side grounded him in the present moment.

Looking at the hooded Tasqal, he forced his throat to work. “You…” The word came out rough, guttural. Every instinct screamed against what he was about to say. “You have done us a service this day.” Each word felt like he was being forced to swallow his own intestines.

The Tasqal tilted his head, perhaps sensing the monumental effort behind that simple acknowledgment.

“My people…the Shum’ai…” Akur continued, his good hand tightening into a fist. “They would call me a traitor for this. But honor demands…” He drew in a ragged breath. “I owe you a debt.”

Kon-stahns’ hold on him tightened, almost as if she was supporting him emotionally, too. As if she understood what this admission cost him—generations of hatred, the weight of his people’s suffering, all things he’d had to set aside.

“Save your strength, Shum’ai,” the Tasqal said. “You will need it for what lies ahead.”

Akur gave a slight nod, relief and shame mingling in his chest. The galaxy, it seemed, was not as black and white as he’d believed. Even as his body failed him, this realization shook the foundations of everything, everything he’d known .

They were almost at the ship’s boarding ramp when the massive lift doors exploded inward.

Hedgeruds. They poured through the breach like a flood of pestilence, and behind them, the lumbering forms of several High Tasqals.

Qrak.

He should have known this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Traitor!” The lead Tasqal’s voice rang out across the bay. “You dare betray your own kind?”

Here it was. The moment this wretched Tasqal would turn on them.

Again, he was wrong.

“Run!” their ally shouted. “Get to the ship!”

Blaster fire filled the air. The Tasqal who had helped them went down immediately, his pained cry hitting something within Akur that shouldn’t be possible. Regret? Care?

Time stopped for a split click as dark blood spread beneath the Tasqal’s robes.

“Come on!” Kon-stahns was tugging him now, straining toward the ship before them, but his legs locked up. Looking at the female before him, the panic in her eyes, the hope, he knew they wouldn’t make it. He was too wounded; too slow. Already, the Hedgeruds were closing in.

They wouldn’t make it.

Not both of them, at least.

But she could.

Gathering every bit of strength he had left, he knew what he had to do. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

With one powerful move, he shifted out of her grasp and lifted her with his one good arm.

“Forgive me, bright eyes.”

Her body went airborne as he threw her toward the ship with all his remaining strength. The landing wasn’t gracious. She caught herself on the boarding ramp. When she spun back toward him, her eyes were wide with horror .

“No!” she screamed. “Akur!”

Throwing himself toward the ship, he aimed for the external hatch control. He barely managed to hit it. The ramp began rising.

“Go!” he roared, even as blaster fire sizzled past him. “Live!”

The last thing he saw was her face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she scrambled toward him, gravity working against her now as the hatch sealed shut. Then pain exploded in his back.