Infinity Blade: Redemption (Page 13)

She had a habit of preferring dangerous men. This one, however, was a different beast entirely.

She stepped up next to him, then ran her fingers along the edge of the tub device. Attuning Siris to this one would allow him to awaken here quickly, and would rejuvenate and strengthen him when needed. Dials, buttons, and wires connected it . . . things she didn’t understand, and didn’t really care to.

“We have our quiver,” she said, speaking in the blunt language of this island continent, where the God King ruled.

“Quiver?” Siris asked, looking up.

“You are the weapon, Whiskers,” she said, tapping the device. “This is just for reloading.”

He smiled wearily. “This was too easy, Isa. Why were the guards so frightened?”

“I know,” Dynn said from the doorway. “It’s actually quite obvious.”

“Is that so?” Siris asked. “What, then, were they so frightened of?”

“Me, clearly,” Dynn said.

Wait. Isa frowned. Dynn’s voice didn’t sound right.

Siris suddenly leaped to his feet and ran toward the soldier. Terr backed away, confused, as Siris and Dynn clashed.

No. Not Dynn at all. Someone laughed behind that helm with a familiar voice.

“You!” Siris said, swiping his sword at the impostor. “What did you do with the man who wore that armor?”

The laughter continued.

That was the God King’s voice.

Oh, hell, Isa thought, reaching for her sword.

“They were worried about me awakening in here,” the God King said, stepping back from Siris. “With good reason.” He held up a hand as Siris prepared to strike. “As much fun as it would be to kill you again, Ausar—and honestly, I’m already growing nostalgic for the experience—I can’t spare the time to indulge myself. Neither, I believe, can you.”

“Your empire is crumbling, Raidriar.”

“And your little rebellion is doomed. He’s planning something dangerous.”

“Have you figured out his endgame?” Siris asked.

Raidriar shook his head. “No. You?”

“No idea.”

“It’s big,” the God King said. “He tossed aside the Infinity Blade as if it were nothing. Whatever he’s working on, he doesn’t consider you, me, or this empire to be a priority.”

Siris hesitated. “Damn.” Finally, he lowered his sword. “Damn.”

Isa looked from one to the other, as they sheathed their swords and walked toward the other side of the room. Almost like old friends.

What, she thought, did I just miss?

She gestured for the other guards to secure the chamber. “Keep the door closed,” she ordered, “and see if you can find Dynn. He might be back in the room where we entered the complex.”

Terr ran off immediately. Others stood guard behind the door as Isa closed it. She went over to where the God King and Siris were talking.

“You need me,” Raidriar was saying.

“Hardly,” Siris replied.

“Oh? And the machinery in this chamber? You were going to move it on your own? Have you any knowledge of how to disassemble it, how to set it back up? Do you even know how to work it?”

“We could leave it here, make this our base.”

“And stay exactly where the Worker knows he can find you?” The God King left his helm on. He wouldn’t show his face to those he considered his lessers.

“Where is my soldier?” Isa demanded, stepping up next to Siris.

The God King looked her over. “He is alive,” he said. “I realized that Ausar would whine and moan if I killed one of his little rebels, even if they are all my subjects.”

“Where?” Isa demanded. “In the room where we entered?”

“Obviously,” the God King said with a wave of the hand. “Calm yourself, child. I barely even harmed him. He didn’t need that hand; he has two, after all.”

“You monster,” Isa said, lunging at him. Siris caught her by the shoulder and pulled her back.

“Honestly,” the God King said, “no need to fuss for something so minor. You mortals break so easily, one would assume you’d be accustomed to it by now.”

“You—” Isa started.

Siris took her by the shoulder. “He’s taunting you, Isa. Don’t rise to it.”

She cut herself off, fuming. If Dynn was dead . . .

“You do need me,” the God King said, turning back to Siris. “I brought one of my loyal Devoted, one of the few mortals I allowed to develop expertise in Deathless technology. He can disassemble the machinery here and set it up somewhere else. Some location you choose.”

“Fine,” Siris said. “Very magnanimous of you. And your part in it? What do you gain?”

“We defeat him, and I get my empire back.”

“Like hell you do,” Isa spat. “We’re not going to rebel against him, only to give everything back to you.”

“And him?” the God King asked, amused, waving toward Siris. “You think that giving the empire to Ausar here will be any different?”

“He won’t rule.”

“Oh?” the God King asked. “I find that . . . unlikely. He has always loved to rule. He’s never been good at it, granted, but he does love it. Don’t you, Ausar?”

Siris didn’t reply, his lips a tight line.

“Regardless,” the God King said, “it isn’t important now. First we need to defeat the Worker. Anyone’s rule would be better than the chaos and misery he has sewn since his return. Mortals or not, these are my people. I will not abandon them. We can discuss the nature of our . . . alliance later.”

“I don’t trust you, Raidriar,” Siris said.

“I should hope not! You’re a fool, but not that big a fool. But you also know that I will keep my word. So I vow to you that I won’t move against you, as long as the Worker rules. I will have my man set up this equipment as-is, installing no hidden subroutines, no Q.I.P. alteration algorithms. We will be allies until our common enemy falls.”

Siris met the God King’s eyes.

“You know this to be the right course,” Raidriar said. “Just as I knew you would come here. As soon as I considered, I knew where to find you.”

“Fine,” Siris said, holding out a hand. “But the equipment stays under my control. You swear not to use it without my approval.”

“Fine,” the God King said, sounding annoyed within his helm.

“We need a place the Worker won’t think to look for us,” Siris said. “Do you know of any such place? A place secret even from those who work with us, to preserve a layer of security.”

“Well,” the God King said as they clasped hands. “I do have a few hideouts that were not in my records. You can choose one of many.”

Isa stared at them both, horrified. “This can’t possibly be right, Siris,” she said.

The God King looked to her. “Isn’t she the one who killed you with that crossbow bolt, all those months ago?”

“Yes,” Siris said.

“I suppose I have to like her, then. I assume you’ve chosen her to be first.”

“First?” Isa said. “First what?”

“He didn’t tell you?” the God King said, sounding amused. “About this place?”

“What about this place?” Isa asked.

“Raidriar . . .” Siris said.

“First? First what?” Isa snapped.

“You were going to have to tell her eventually, Ausar,” the God King said, strolling through the room, nodding toward the rebirthing tub and equipment. “Best to get it over with quickly. Like an execution—one swift chop.”

Siris sighed.

Isa looked to him. “What’s he talking about?” she asked, feeling a chill.

“This isn’t just a rebirthing chamber, Isa,” Siris said. “It’s a Pinnacle of Sanctification.”

“A what?”

“A device for making new Deathless, child,” the God King said, his voice echoing in the metallic room as he turned toward her. “Your hero plans to create his own pantheon of immortals—and you are to be the first of their ranks.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SIRIS WATCHED the fire flutter and shake as the sea winds blew across it. Behind him, a cliffside set with ancient blocks formed a doorway cut into the stone. Majestic, only the ruins of this place remained. Isa’s people had draped tents between the half-fallen rocks, creating a semblance of civilization.

Water lapped against the shore nearby. Siris did not know much of the ocean, even though he’d grown up on what was essentially a very large island. This sheltered location was not an area he had ever traveled. He got the sense that few came this way. The God King’s lair here, chosen by Siris from among those offered, was a hidden place he claimed that even the Worker wouldn’t know about. A location locked only in his own memory.

Soldiers huddled nearby around their own fire. Not all of their force, only a select few. They couldn’t hide a full army here; just the equipment. The majority of the troops would remain back at the village in the valley.

Siris looked them over. These men had been recruited and trained to attack the Deathless—but so far, they hadn’t fought any. They’d been joined by two instead. They had to be wondering, are we being manipulated? Is this rebellion all just another Deathless game?

They were probably right.

Siris rose and walked along the path outside the ancient doorway into the cliff. Sounds inside evoked strange emotions in him. Metal against metal, the clanking of tools. Raidriar’s Devoted worked, with recruited soldiers as laborers, to install the resurrection device and the Pinnacle.

Siris could almost remember a time when machinery like this had been commonplace. What had that life been like? Machines like TEL to work the fields, hunt for food, build houses? Surely it would have been a paradise. But the Deathless chose this world instead—a world of poverty and sorrow, a world where survival was a constant struggle. Why?

Once past the doorway, Siris looked along a small pathway that wound upward between the rocks. Isa sat up there on a large stone, arms crossed on top of her legs, looking out over the ocean.

Siris almost walked up to her, but he recognized that hers was not the posture of one who wanted company.

I should have told her, he thought. Right from the start, I should have told her what I was planning.

Clinking footsteps came from the entrance a short distance back. Siris turned and spotted the God King striding out. Raidriar had reluctantly returned Dynn’s armor, choosing instead to wear armor taken from one of the dead. Dynn had been found alive, as promised. But lacking a hand, also as promised.

Raidriar walked up to Siris, balancing an unsheathed sword against his shoulder, edge toward the sky. “You show them your face,” Raidriar said from within his helm. “Have you forgotten that we do not do this?”

“It’s not that I’ve forgotten. It’s that I don’t care.”

Raidriar grunted. Siris couldn’t help shifting his stance to be better ready to dodge that sword, should it swing. And yet . . . he knew that it would not. They had killed one another many hundreds of times over, but that had been then. This was now. They had better things to do.