37. THIRTY-SEVEN #3
Fankalo gritted her teeth. She looked at Mitek.
In the glowing light from the mountain, a black trickle ran from his ear down to his chin.
He gave her a pained expression. We’re too late.
To outmaneuver Cul’Mon, they would have needed to leave port hours ago.
Now, they had just enough time to not get cornered in the cove.
Mitek had the same thought. “Fight or flee?” he asked, as a flaming boulder crashed into the Dreiden distortion compound on the island. Flames engulfed its walls within seconds.
Two dozen others shifted around her, their eyes locked on her, awaiting her word. Fankalo’s father’s words echoed in her mind. She thought of the damage the Ruxian boy had done. These men entrusted her with their lives, and they hadn’t expected to go into battle for another year.
Cul’Mon’s sights were set on Steila. Pursuing them east toward Casowhatan would give away his position. He hadn’t set foot on Nelfinden soil in fourteen years. She wagered he wouldn’t again until he was certain he had the upper hand.
“Flee,” she said and signaled together. The words tasted wrong as they pitched into the fading night.
She felt no strength in putting her tail between her legs, even understanding the lives it spared.
“We make haste for Casowhatan.” They’d begun scoping a new base just south of Seraphinden.
It was time to expedite the process. “What Cul’Mon wants is moving towards Steila.
He won’t give up his real prize for a conduit. ”
Mitek swallowed. If he was relieved, he did a good job of hiding it. “We flee,” he echoed.
What was it that made surrender so much less agreeable than death? She spared a final glance and the desolation beneath Mount Vespeyan. That was the beauty of a spartan warehouse. Of spartan barracks. Of a stinking island. Even after five years of residence, they were of little consequence.
“Notify our contacts in Nelfinden border control. Dreiden headquarters is shifting to the mainland.”
NIKLAUS
A tent erected for the sole purpose of an interrogation was not done so meticulously.
The dip in the fabric overhead and odd gaps between fasteners were all Niklaus could fixate on.
The brain did strange things when it knew its heartbeats to be numbered.
Two lamps glared over the spartan interior—one in Thyatira’s hands, and one overhead—illuminating sand that met with canvas of the same hue.
A guard stood behind Niklaus. Another by the flap.
Niklaus’s body trembled as he eased through the pain in his core. “The Azadonian?”
“You were assigned to keep watch of him.”
No, Dex had been assigned by Thyatira to commit homicide against Niklaus. “Ah. That Azadonian.” Niklaus’s tongue seemed thicker than usual, and he spat into the sand beneath the tent. “No idea.”
The next hit landed. A bulging in his throat forecasted vomit. Remarkable how much pain could be elicited without anything breaking.
Thyatira didn’t wait for him to recover before speaking again.
“I have spoken with Major General Mastico. I have spoken to my men. You’ve been affiliated with Calverous Curtiam—whom Nelfinden records state as fifteen years deceased—posing under the name Dallard Friyal for more than a moon cycle. The boy’s with him, isn’t he?”
“You have no idea. What you’re. Talking about.” Niklaus choked out.
Thyatira only sighed. Niklaus closed his eyes, bracing for another hit.
None came.
“Here’s the story as I understand it. You have been trying to topple Aetech for the past year to collect on an insurance policy that expires on the summer equinox.
You procured unethical slander against your own organization last winter, which failed.
Then you enlisted in the military to weaponize defensive distortion technology against us, which failed.
Now, you’ve hired a mercenary to kidnap the younger sibling of Aetech’s primary engineer as a means for blackmail. ”
Blackmail that would whitewash everything Thyatira had done. “You know that’s not true.”
“And with your track record, what will the courts in Seraphinden believe?”
Niklaus might have glared, but with his sensory input so overwhelmed, he couldn’t be sure what his eyes were doing.
“Now that I have your attention, I think we can have a discussion. Meyernes, you and I can work together. I’ve been paying attention to you, and I can say for certain that we have a common enemy.
” A more diplomatic way of saying ‘you’re being watched’ had never been proffered.
He’d rather have the gut punches. “That enemy is not Aethertech Mechanics. It is not Odeneous Taranil. It is not the Tera’thian State.
” Thyatira did have his attention now, and Niklaus held his gaze level.
“It is the victims of our oligarchy’s systemization, so weak-minded as to believe that this is the way things must be, because it is how they are going. You can help me fight that.”
The last thing he’d expected was for Thyatira to ask him for help. “I… what? If you want to work together, why did you punch me?”
Thyatira snagged him on a pointed stare.
Niklaus could have sworn the corner of his mouth moved.
“Someone needed to punch you.” And that just might have been the case.
“We share a goal, and for that I want to prevent you from getting screwed on a poorly made deal with Calverous Curtaim. You have no idea who he is or what he is capable of. He, like his father, is a Tera’thian ally.
He was hired to assassinate an ex-high-ranking official—Deshpian Thackore—last winter in Chira’na, and he was successful. Any idea how he did it?”
Niklaus clenched his jaw and shook his head.