The Apocalypse Script (43 page)

Fiela surveyed the arena as the
man with the wounded shin flailed futilely in her chokehold. She
was certain that four of the Peth still standing were Rudger’s but
the situation was growing increasingly chaotic. She could hear Lord
Disparthian’s yells near the doors urging his troops forward and
she was not sure if the troops now entering Steepleguard were
friend or foe. Even the Peths above her didn’t seem to
know.

She made the decision to go
vertical when the pistols came out. She rolled to a position behind
the nearest enemy, stood, and plunged a knife between his helmet
and body armor, severing his spinal column. She started a leg spin
as the man fell and passed a knee a half-inch above his head before
slamming a boot into the nose of another Peth who had turned toward
her.

That left two. Both saw her at the
same time as a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room. The
first, who was two arm lengths away, brought up her pistol too
quickly and rushed her trigger pull, sending a round over Fiela’s
shoulder. Fiela closed and felt a second shot tear into her hip.
Ignoring the pain she grabbed the other woman’s gun and twisted it
violently, breaking the woman’s finger. The movement forced the
trigger back, sending the third round into the intruder’s
head.

One left.

All done, then
, she told herself.

Except the last thing.

“
I will find you,” she said in a
hushed tone.

Time slowed for Fiela as she
dropped her hands to her sides and became a spectator to the battle
in the doorway. There was Disparthian, whom Lilian had once called
‘Lancelot,’ rushing forward with two other men, and behind him, a
horde of Maqtu, Sibelius at the front. The battle was
won.

She lowered her eyes to the man in
front of her. Rudger’s last man. Extending her head forward and
stretching her arms out behind her, she took a step toward him and
screamed.

The ear-piercing and alien shriek
shook the man, and when lightning again illuminated the room, he
saw the thing coming at him from the shadows. Whimpering for the
first time in his adult life, he raised his pistol and pulled the
trigger five times. The thing fell to the floor.

He knew the use of a flashlight
would be death sentence, but he didn’t care. He shakily pulled the
device from a strap on his shoulder and flipped it on with his free
hand. Looking down, he saw the faint silhouette of a girl’s
body.
A girl?
His
hands trembling, he struggled to reconcile what he thought he had
shot at and the figure at his feet. The thing he had shot at had
not been a girl, had it?

Gods, no!
It was something else. Something abominable. It
was-

A Maqtu bullet ended the Peth’s
life before he could finish the thought.

No prisoners were taken. All of
Lords Moros’s and Nizrok’s Peth were killed. When the gunfire
ceased, the lights miraculously came back on. Lilian strode into
the Great Hall. Dozens of bodies littered the floor, some in heaps.
She saw Disparthian, bloodied but alive, striding toward
her.

“
Annasa,” he said, “the battle is
won.”

Lilian nodded, having assumed as
much when she saw the handsome man standing in middle of the room
with two of his lieutenants. Only
two?
Had the battle been that
close?

“
I have no words,” she said,
taking his gloved hands in hers. “You have preserved the true
Nisirtu.”

“
The Maqtu
helped,” Disparthian said, nodding toward Sibelius, who was meeting
with a group of his men in the corner of the room.
“
Eventually.
”

“
They will be properly rewarded.”
Her smile faltered. “But where is my sister?”

Disparthian looked around the
room. “I saw her just before I entered. She single-handedly stopped
the advance of Colonel Rudger’s troops. Perhaps she pursued Peth
trying to flee. Where is the nearest other exit?”

Lilian nodded toward a nearby
corridor. “That will take you to a patio.”

“
I will go and look for her. I
have a platoon in the tree line hunting down snipers and support
units. She may have joined them. Stay here with my men until I
return.”

When he had left, one of
Disparthian’s men, a Lieutenant Kelliti, ordered the Maqtu to begin
removing bodies from the room. Anyone still breathing was to be
killed.

Only a few minutes into the process, he yelled,
“Wait!”

“
What is it?” asked
Lilian.

“
There,” he said, pointing at the
body of a man whose head was partially missing. Beneath him Fiela’s
red hair could be seen.

“
No!” screamed Lilian, running to
the bodies. Kelliti arrived with her and roughly picked up the
corpse of the man and threw it to the side, revealing Fiela, white
as a ghost and still. There was a small hole in her chest and a
pool of blood under her. Kelliti knelt down, felt at the
wound.

“
Where is her armor?” he asked,
bewildered.

“
What?” replied Lilian.

The Peth, amazed, said, “She removed her armor
plates…why would she do that?”

Lilian thought the question
pointless. “A doctor!” she yelled at the guests who had emerged
from their rooms and stood on the balconies looking down at the
carnage. “Send down one of the doctors! My sister is
wounded!”

Turning back to the Lieutenant,
she said, “There are medical supplies in the basement. Bring
Disparthian’s other man and I’ll show you.” Lilian leapt to her
feet and moved toward the corridor that led to the cave’s entrance.
To her surprise, two Maqtu who were standing there failed to make
way.

“
Move!” she screamed angrily,
slamming her fists into them, but they did not.

“
Move, damn you!” she screamed
again.

“
Do as she commands,” said
Kelliti, clearly annoyed at the Maqtus’ reaction. Disparthian’s
other guard regarded the rebels warily.

“
Sorry, sir, but you’re not in
command,” said Sibelius, approaching the Peth. “Neither is your
master. Never was, really.” Before Kelliti could react, the rebel
shot the Nisirtu lieutenant in the throat.

Additional shots rang out as the
lieutenant fell slowly to one knee. Disparthian’s other man
crumpled to the ground.

Another Maqtu, this one named
Fiscus, stepped forward and shot the Kelliti in the good leg that
supported his weight. Kelliti swayed for a moment, and then, with a
tremendous effort and a scream of pain, he lunged at the man who
had just shot him, wrapping his arms around Fiscus’s legs. The
Maqtu fell backwards with a shout as the Peth tackled
him.

There were two more gunshots.
Kelliti stopped moving.

“
Hard to kill,” said the rebel who
fired the last shot.

“
Get up, Fiscus,” said the other
man. The Maqtu on the ground beneath Kelliti didn’t move. Someone
reached down and rolled the Peth’s body off the crumpled man. Only
then did they see the silver handle of the dagger Disparthian’s man
had shoved between his attacker’s ribs.

“
I’ll be damned. Nicely done,
Lieutenant Kelliti. You died nobly. I shall name a child after
you.”

The other man spat on the corpse
of the Maqtu. “And you, Fiscus? You died like you lived.
Stupidly!
”

“
Who are you men to speak of
nobility?” yelled Lilian, who had fallen to her knees, the bodies
of Kelliti and Fiela on the ground before her. “You know nothing of
it.”

“
Ha!” yelled the Sibelius. “The
whore speaks of nobility! You,” he said, pointing at one of the
other Maqtu, “get troops up to the balconies. We’re sitting ducks
here. I want a guard on each level. If anyone steps out of their
room, warn them back, and if they refuse, shoot them! You,” he said
to a nearby rebel, “Gather your platoon and go find Disparthian and
his remaining men. Kill them.”

The female bowed slightly and was
gone.

Lilian tried to crawl to Fiela but
was blocked by the Maqtu. Blood was everywhere on the floor and one
of her hands slipped out from under her causing her to slam her
head into one of the men’s knees.

“
Careful, whore. We need you
intact for the evening’s festivities.”

Lilian, seeing she would not be
allowed to pass, tried to stand, but was shoved back down. “Stay on
your knees. It is your proper place.”

The other men laughed and someone
kicked her from behind, sending her splaying to the floor. Covered
in the blood of her enemies and allies, the woman rolled over and
looked up. Mercifully, there were no gawkers in the balconies. The
guests were afraid or perhaps unwilling to witness her
humiliation.

“
What about the girl?” said one of
the Maqtu. He was standing over Fiela. “Shouldn’t we have one of
the doctors tend to her?”

Sibelius looked at the girl and
rubbed his jaws. The blood on the floor beneath Fiela spread out
like wings. “No,” he said at last. “It couldn’t be helped. The
lights were out and no one could see anyone. She got in the way. By
the time we found her, she was dead.”

The other two men swapped uneasy
glances. “She might be saved. Lord Moros will be displeased. She
was to be given to him.”

“
Lord Moros?” gasped
Lilian.

Sibelius ignored her. “Move
the
Edimmu
to the
side of the platform and throw a tablecloth over her. It will be
better if she dies this day. I do not wish to find her in my
bedroom one morning pointing at me with her damned knives when she
is supposed to be asleep at Moros’s side.”

Two Maqtu grabbed Fiela’s arms and
complied. As they did so, a man next to Sibelius said, “This is a
dangerous game.”

“
Yes, but that
girl
does not
die!
”
seethed
Sibelius. Grunting and leaning in toward the other man, he said
conspiratorially, “She might even turn Lord Moros against us. I do
not wish to spend the rest of my life looking over my
shoulder.”

“
Moros?” said Lilian
again.

“
Yes, dear?” came a voice at the
other end of the Great Hall.

Shocked, Lilian tried to rise but was again shoved
down. She could hear heavy footsteps approaching.

The unseen Moros said in a
cavalier tone, “No, no, gentlemen! Do not treat a princess so! Have
you forgotten yourselves? Help the poor woman to her
feet!”

As Lilian was pulled roughly
upward the throng of Maqtu in front of her parted. Lord Moros,
resplendent in the gold ceremonial armor of the Supreme Lord of the
Peth-Allati, walked toward her smiling, his scarlet cloak wafting
behind him.

“
Hello, Lilitu,” he said when a
few feet away.

Lilian stared at him
disbelievingly. “You!”

“
Yes, me. Did you really think me
so stupid, Lilitu? Did you honestly believe you could organize a
rebellion with Disparthian behind my back? I grant you, the plan
itself was clever enough - trying to draw my forces in, and those
of Nizrok, so that you could eliminate us before the collapse. Was
that your idea or the scribe’s?”

Lilian, dazed, felt her knees begin to buckle, but
the Maqtu held her upright.

“
Yes, brilliant,” Moros continued.
“If it had worked you would have command of both Diz’s armies and
the remaining Maqtu, at a minimum. If you managed to kill Lord
Nizrok and myself tonight when we came to accept your surrender,
our armies would have fallen under the command of Disparthian,
since he is third in the chain of command.

“
Of course, in normal times, our
Houses would appoint replacements for us, but given the sorry state
of the world and the likely downfall of the Seven, you assumed -
rightly, I think - that our armies would both opt to remain under
the command of the cavalier Lord Disparthian.

“
That would give
you four armies, Lilian!
Four!
Mine, Nizrok’s, Disparthian’s,
and the Maqtu. Belusmar has returned to Europe with his guards and
so is out of play. The military leaders of the Fifth, Seventh, and
Eighth kingdoms are overseas. After the Ardoon apocalypse, your
unified force of four armies could easily overwhelm the other
three, especially given that you would have the Great Sage to guide
you.”

The Peth lord clicked his tongue
enviously. “A brilliant plan, truly, daughter of Sargon. You made
one crucial mistake, however.
You trusted
the Maqtu.
Once that might have been
understandable. Years ago, when their Houses were in order. But
today their Houses are fallen and they are beholden to no
one.

“
You assumed that the rebels would
view you, the enemy of their enemy, as an ally. That is not so.
Given the option of rejoining the Seven and ruling the world - in
whatever form - or joining forces with a whore and spending the
rest of their lives fighting the Seven, did you really think they
would choose the latter?”