Perdition (The Dred Chronicles) (24 page)

39

Beyond Madness

The lights went out on schedule.

Dred commanded all able-bodied men for this final run at Grigor. Between the water and the lack of light, his men should be weak and disoriented. Add in her forces and the ones led by Silence—the Handmaiden was on hand with garrotes and knives, ready to deal some death—and the Great Bear’s days were numbered. With no power, it was eerily silent in the Korolévstvo, not even the low hum that meant the ship was functioning.

“Lights up,” she ordered.

Nearby, Silence gave the same command to her men.

As one, they donned the mining helmets they’d salvaged from Priest’s hoard. That would make it possible to finish this without decimating the Queensland or Entropy populations. Not that she’d weep overmuch if some of her men stabbed Silence’s people; and Dred imagined the Handmaiden felt the same way. Talk about a precarious alliance.

With hundreds of thin beams of light at her back, she led the march on the Great Bear. The first checkpoint was deserted, which spoke well of Tam’s plan with the water. It was cruel and underhanded, not a warrior’s strategy at all. But she couldn’t afford to fight fair, not when Grigor had so many more soldiers. As she pushed closer to the Korolévstvo, the stench swelled to awful proportions, mingling feces and urine with the stale sweat of sickness and the sweet stink of decay. Dred covered her nose with one hand and pressed on. They crossed two more abandoned checkpoints, and she started to wonder just how bad it had gotten. Closer to the hub of the territory, she found the first corpses. Dred bent to examine them, shining her light across the cold, pallid skin.

“Head wound,” Einar said. “Bled like a stuck animal before he died.”

The Speaker stepped up beside her, translating for Silence. “This is a good omen . . . Death strides before us, clearing our path.”

That was an impressive, overflowing bucket of crazy, so she just inclined her head and stepped over the corpses. “Stay sharp. I doubt they’re all dead.”

“We couldn’t be so lucky,” Einar said.

They’d left Wills and Ike to man the automated defenses, along with a minimal defense crew. Those who had stayed behind had no taste for personal violence; they were killers of another stripe, who preferred long-distance weapons or poisons. As she moved into the heart of darkness, she wondered where Jael and Tam were. They had orders to regroup with the main force as soon as they finished down below. It seemed like they ought to be here by now.

Before curiosity could blossom into concern, she stepped into what must be Grigor’s great hall. She skimmed her light around the room with countless men at her back doing the same; the result was disconcerting, multiple streams of light crisscrossing the darkness and giving staccato impressions. Immediately, she readied her chains.

“Give me room,” she said, starting forward.

A brawl was ongoing across the way, draped in darkness. Tam had said cutting the lights qualified as a psychological weapon to terrorize and demoralize their foes. She hadn’t been sure it would work that way, but these men had already been pushed to the breaking point by the dirty water and unexpected illness. Now they had no reason to try to restrain their savage natures. Fragments of argument reached her, along with the muffled thump of fists on palms, panting breaths, and moans of pain. From this distance, in the broken light, it was impossible to count how many there were, but they were oblivious, drowning in anger.

The Speaker said, “These are the dregs he left behind. We will not find Grigor here.”

“Then we cut through them,” she answered grimly. “For Queensland!”

The men rushed in a roar, wading into the brawl with an enthusiasm that nearly deafened her. Since her chains hurt her own people as much as the enemy when she fought in a tight cluster, Dred stood away from the melee, catching the enemies who tried to flee. One of Grigor’s soldiers broke from the scrum and stumbled toward her; she planted her feet and lashed her chains, hooking them around his knees. One tug, and he went flying. She finished him with twin, artistic lashes, but it was nothing to be proud of—the man was thin and sick, sclera showing yellow in the thin beam from her helmet.

The whole room was a blur of misery and violence.
This was probably what the Conglomerate had in mind, but I suspect they imagined it would happen sooner.
There was an awful beauty in Einar scything through his enemies. He gave no quarter, and the broad swing of his deadly axe demanded the broad clearance his allies offered. Nobody fought near him; they didn’t dare. Even among Grigor’s brutes, he towered head and shoulders above the rest. He was a juggernaut of wrath, dealing destruction to the enemies who rushed him from all sides.

Dred picked off another coward, this time breaking his neck with a skilled twirl of her chains. His body flew forward, then dropped, and a few Queenslanders cheered. They didn’t need to see her dive into the melee to believe she could hold her own. She’d carried them to this point, but sometimes a queen had to step back and open her hands. When they won the day, the Queenslanders would’ve earned their revels, and they’d appreciate the victory more, feel more invested in the new territory. These lessons, she’d absorbed from Tam without realizing he had been teaching her statecraft.

Who the hell are you, spymaster? More to the point,
where
the hell are you?

Dred glanced over her shoulder and was unnerved to find the Speaker standing just behind her, just outside her peripheral vision. Trying not to be obvious about it, she angled her stance. If he thought he’d murder her during the battle and blame the enemy, well. She put her back to the wall, just in case. Silence fought like a shadow, slipping from victim to victim with her garrote. It shouldn’t be possible to execute men with such surgical precision in such a mess, but the Handmaiden was like Death itself, hardly visible between the moving lattice of lights. Only her long gray hair showed when she moved, like the dingy shroud on a corpse come back from the netherworld to reap men’s souls.

Shaking her head at the thought, she looked for Einar again, then realized he was in trouble. Her heart in her throat, she pushed forward, but there were too many bodies between him and her, too many allies. She lashed out with her chains, but if she killed a bunch of her own men while striving to reach the big man, she’d face a rebellion, so her movements were abortive, fruitless. Still, she shoved and jabbed with a small blade, driving deeper into the mob. Einar had come too deep alone, and the remaining enemies backed him toward the wall. There were eight of them, at least, focused on taking down the most obvious threat.

“Come at me!” she shouted. “Think how pleased Grigor will be when you bring him the Dread Queen’s head.”

Four of his foes turned, started pushing toward her.
That’s right. This way.
It might be tough to take out four men in such close quarters, with Queenslanders jostling her from all sides, fighting, grunting, spitting, and bleeding.
I’ll manage. I have to.

“No,” the big man roared.

Like a berserker, he wheeled into the fight, leaving himself open to knives and fists and shards of metal. The idea that she’d take the blows for him clearly maddened him, drove all ideas of caution and self-preservation out of his head. All around her, the scrum tightened so that she could hardly move her shoulders, let alone breathe. More bodies surged between them; she couldn’t even see Einar anymore.

“Help Einar,” she ordered.

But her words were lost in the chaos of the fight, in whirling darkness. A few men tried to find him, but they couldn’t spot him, either. Bodies surged, a flurry of blows and the unearthly screams of men dying in agony. Reckless, she lashed at anyone who got in her way, whether they were wearing a light helmet or not, and the crowd parted. The big man took two blades in the stomach as she watched, helpless, only three meters away. Two more sank into him, then Grigor’s men frenzied, stabbing, kicking, punching. Einar dropped to his knees. She spun her chains and yanked one of them away, snapped them free and stunned another.

“To me!” she shouted.

The Queenslanders rallied, fighting the enemies who had focused on the big man. One by one, they died, and the tide turned. That broke the enemy’s will, so that Silence’s people surged in and executed them, little resistance left. She pushed forward and knelt beside the big man, whose breathing sounded awful and liquid.
Blood in his lungs. Blood everywhere.
In the dark, it gleamed nearly black on his skin, and he was covered in it. She put her hands over his wounds—or she tried—but there were too many.

“Get me some bandages.”

Einar fell back onto his elbows, too weak to kneel. His eyes reflected like winter ice, set in an incredibly ugly face. Somehow, he mustered the strength to cover her hands with his own. “Bandages won’t help, and there’s no surgeon to patch me up. Do the right thing, my queen.”

Tears knotted her throat, burned in the back of her eyes, but the Dread Queen wouldn’t let them fall. Dred wished she had the freedom to weep, but all eyes were on her, and she still had to finish this with the Great Bear. She couldn’t afford to show weakness.

“If you prefer,” she said quietly.

Einar managed a quick nod. “Better to have it done swiftly . . . and by your hands. It’s impossible for me to imagine a better end than this.”

“Picture the last beautiful thing you saw,” she whispered.

The big man closed his eyes, blood trickling past his lips as he said, “I am.”

“Good-bye, my friend.”

As she sank her blade into his chest, he opened his pale blue eyes for the last time and whispered, “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

He closed his eyes and saw my face?
Her heart twisted. Deep down, she’d suspected how he felt about her, but she hadn’t pursued it. First, she was too broken, mad with pain inflicted by Artan, and then Jael arrived. If he hadn’t, she might’ve eventually invited Einar into her bed instead of letting him sleep beneath it. He’d done terrible things before being shipped to Perdition . . .
But so have we all.

With grief eating a hole in her heart, she closed his eyes with bloody fingertips. “I’ll miss you, big man.”

Then she pushed to her feet in a silent rage.
The Great Bear will die for this.

40

Never Dead to Us

This is my fault.

The room was awash in blood, bodies everywhere. Long before his palace days, he had worked in a slaughterhouse, butchering meat when he was scarcely big enough to hold the tools. That place had been clean and orderly in comparison to this. There had been more of a sense of respect for life and for the value of the animals being processed for consumption.

This . . . this is monstrous.

Though he had willingly signed the deal that landed him here, for the first time, hate swelled in him—for his fellow man, for the people who had put him here. For a few seconds, he even hated the queen of Tarnus, for whom he had given up everything.
She’s the rightful ruler,
he told himself.
And though it took fifteen turns to finish that game, it ended as it always must—with her on the throne and me in exile.

They always need someone to blame.

Staring at the body of the man who had been the closest thing Tam had to a friend in this hellhole, pain swelled in his skull until his temples felt like they might burst. If he’d listened to Jael when he’d pressed them to leave, he might have reached Einar before it was too late. Instead, he’d gone against all experience, chosen mercy instead of expedience.
And look where it got me.

Though open battle wasn’t his forte, he could’ve stabbed multiple enemies in the back before they noticed him, enough to turn the tide.
Jael would’ve been fine. He said he would be, but I didn’t believe him. I thought he was lying, choosing an honorable death, and Dred would’ve been furious if we left him to die alone. I thought
he
was the sacrifice to the cause. Not Einar.
Tam dropped to his knees.

“You can’t blame yourself,” Dred murmured. “I’m doing that.”

His face felt too frozen to smile. “Do we have time to take care of him?”

She nodded. “Doesn’t matter. We won’t leave him here.”

Words of gratitude got stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner.”

“I’ll ask why you didn’t later.”

Dred doesn’t know about the electrified floor or how long it took Jael to recover.
More reason he should’ve disregarded her orders to stay; she’d given them without a full understanding of the situation. When circumstances changed, he ought to have adapted his mission parameters.
Yet the first battle was hard fought, more than I expected. I didn’t know it was so urgent or that our presence would’ve made a difference.
Queensland was spread thin, taking losses it couldn’t afford. It was an awful realization, but the way Tam felt, he’d chosen the new fish over Einar, like a life for a life was required to pass this point. He didn’t realize he’d said it aloud until Dred touched his shoulder.

“
What
did you say?” All the blood drained out of her face. Confused, Tam repeated his thought, and Dred shivered. “That was the last reading Wills did for me. He said, ‘Victory requires a life for a life, my queen.’”

If Einar’s death ensures the Great Bear’s defeat, I think he’s glad, wherever he is.

A Queenslander overheard her and shouted it for the rest. “That means we’re guaranteed to triumph. The madman said so, and Einar’s given his life to make it so.”

Tam didn’t know if foretellings worked like that, but it seemed to be improving morale. As the rest gathered close, his humble posture drew attention from other Queenslanders, probably damaging his reputation for having ice in his veins, too, but he couldn’t lock it down. A few men patted his shoulder as he knelt beside his friend. There were no calculations to reduce the loss, only the immutable truth that Einar had died beneath Dred’s blade, a mercy killing. Tam glanced up, studying her face. She was pale but composed, green eyes dry and determined; her resolve bolstered his own.

Dred offered him a hand, and Tam took it. She pulled him to his feet while the rest of the men shuffled among the dead. Grigor’s men were larger than the Queenslanders, so it was easy to tell enemy from fallen comrade.

An inmate whose name Tam didn’t recall offered his hand, and said, “He went out well.”

Another added, “Yeah. Never figured the big man would die before me.”

“He was a good mate. Remember the time—”

Tam listened as they shared stories, mostly about wild risks Einar had taken when he was drinking. He’d loved to brawl, and he never backed down from a challenge. Part of him knew they didn’t have time to reminisce, not here, not now. Yet it felt like disrespect to his friend’s memory to stop them. So he said nothing when the men continued, paying homage in their way.

“I thought Einar’d be the one to take out the Great Bear,” somebody said.

Dred squared her shoulders. “He died saving me. I’ll never forget that.”

“Hell of a place to become a hero,” Jael muttered.

Tam glanced over at the new fish; his skin was pink and new, some spots still raddled with burned tissue. The men hadn’t noticed the damage yet, but they would soon. It was difficult not to take note when scars vanished before the naked eye. He had no idea what kind of creature Jael was, but he definitely wasn’t human. The electrified floor had been an unwelcome surprise, one for which Jael could compensate. He suspected that was why Dred had assigned the man to the team—in case something unexpected occurred.

But why didn’t she tell me?

“What happened?” Tam asked eventually.

She paced, the trinkets in her braids clicking a mournful tune. “He took on too many. I couldn’t reach him.”

Tam curled his hands into fists. “We owe him absolute victory.”

The Queenslanders shouted their agreement.

* * *

JAEL
waited for Dred to acknowledge him. He figured she and Tam had a right to some privacy; they had lost a friend. When she turned his way, he glimpsed a question in her eyes,
Where were you?
Guilt swamped him, and he bit back the vilest curse. If he’d recovered faster, he might’ve saved Einar. Jael didn’t relish draining his veins again—and in truth, he wasn’t sure he had enough blood left to do the job. But still, he would’ve tried.

And killed yourself in the process. There’s a reason it took you so long to recover from those burns. You’re not at full strength.

“We’ll come back for the dead,” she said to the Queenslanders when Jael didn’t speak.

He couldn’t.

The other men chorused, “Yes, my queen.”

He touched her on the shoulder. “A private word? If you can spare the time.”

“Of course.” She followed him, stepping over corpses along the way. Dred seemed to take a closer look at him when she stopped. The scars were red, some purple, where the burns had been worst. “Are you all right? What happened? Tam said it would be a straightforward run, just some wires to unplug.”

“This is my fault,” the spymaster said from behind them. “When I scouted the site, the ungrounded wires weren’t touching the floor. Given the altered conditions, it would’ve been impossible to turn the lights off if Jael hadn’t been willing to suffer the most grievous injuries. After, he told me to go, but I chose to stay. I wasn’t sure he’d recover, and . . .”

Oh, Mother Mary of Anabolic Grace. You didn’t want me to die alone.

While Jael reeled at that realization, Dred touched Tam lightly on the shoulder. “You were following my orders. I’ll take the weight for Einar’s death.”

“No,” the smaller man began, but Dred shook her head.

“This is mine. And I’ll carry it.”

This is friendship. How strange that I’d understand it for the first time in here.

Heartsore, Jael watched the Queenslanders rolling the Great Bear’s fallen men, stealing their trinkets and treasures. He felt odd and awful, unfamiliar emotions coursing though him. It was one of those things, where events conflated in the worst possible way, but Jael felt sure that if he’d been fighting with the big man, he’d be standing here alive and smiling, that huge axe slung over his shoulder.

Tam inclined his head, his expression inscrutable. For his part, Jael saw the huge, swamping sorrow in the other man’s dark eyes. The other man crossed the room and sat down beside Einar, keeping vigil. Once they were alone, or relatively speaking, Dred put a hand on his arm. He tensed at the contact since his skin was still raw.

Apparently she felt the flinch and drew back. “I wish you’d stopped when you saw how dangerous it was. I would’ve accepted that the goal had become untenable. Please know, I’d never assume you’re willing to suffer for Queensland’s sake.”

“Queensland can go sit on a spike,” he said quietly. “But for you, I’d do a whole lot worse. I’m sorry I wasn’t here—”

“It’s not your fault. I couldn’t get to him, either. They backed him into a corner . . . so many of them, too.” She slammed a palm against the wall; and he could tell she wanted to scream or rage, but the Dread Queen couldn’t. In public, she was all regal composure, limned in icy wrath.

“They did it on purpose, I’m sure. Probably had orders from Grigor. It’s no secret that Einar was your man.”

One of them, anyway.

“He was all warrior,” she said softly. “I told the men I’d come back for the dead, but I can’t leave him here. What if Silence’s people—” She broke off, likely unable to articulate the grotesqueries that awaited him in Entropy.

Jael beckoned. “Let’s take care of him. The men can hold this room long enough for us to find the nearest chute.”

Tam glanced up when they crossed the dark room, regret etched on his countenance as if with knives. “Hubris. I thought I knew everything, saw everything. Could weigh all the factors and make the best decisions.”

“Nobody fits that profile,” Dred said. “Pick somebody to take charge for a few.”

Tam stood. “Martine, you’re in command while we’re gone. We’ll be back shortly.”

“And if reinforcements show up while you’re gone?” the woman asked.

“Queenslanders?” Dred prompted.

“We kill the bastards for Einar!”

Jael watched as Dred strode over to Silence. “I must offer my lieutenant honor before we press on. You’d do the same for your Speaker.”

The gray-haired hag signed.

Skullface interpreted, “Death respects ritual. It is well with us.”

Then Dred said to Jael, “I know you can take him, but we should do it together.”

A sigh escaped the spymaster, likely at the prospect of such a permanent farewell. It wouldn’t be much of a service, but the fallen giant would get more than a shove; somebody would say a few words at least. Together, they hoisted the big man and carried him out of the hall. Dred’s mining helmet gave off little illumination, but enough to keep Jael from tripping over his own feet.

The three of them walked quietly in proper funereal procession, according to Tam’s directions. A few minutes later, they turned down the hallway with the chute at the end. He hurt physically as he lifted his share of Einar’s weight—and not because his skin was still tender. Though he hadn’t known the man long, he’d miss him.

I wonder if I have the right to say he was a friend.

Men didn’t hang such emotional labels on things, generally. There were drinking buddies and people you trusted not to punch you in the face, those who might not sell you out at the first offer. Einar, well, he hadn’t known him well enough to draw those lines. Jael wished he had.

“You were strong and fierce,” Dred said softly, “and you never once let me down.”

I could do worse for a eulogy.

“You were like a brother to me,” Tam added. “We came in on the supply ship together. Joined up with Artan together, not knowing what to expect or what he was like. You won his approval with your fists, your refusal to back down, and with that giant axe. And more often than not, you kept him from killing me when I didn’t know when to hold my peace.”

Feeling like an interloper, Jael murmured, “You’ll be missed, big man.” A fragment of a quote knocked at the back of his brain, so he offered that, too: “‘Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.’”

Dred gave a jerky, approving nod. There were no tears as they lifted him and sent his body down. He waited to see if he could hear the fallen giant hit bottom, but only silence came back, bleak and unknowable as the grave. Then Dred set out with no further commentary; and Tam fell in behind her, his steps small and meek, a man weighed down by his humanity and capacity to err. But if he thought choosing mercy, choosing not to let Jael die alone, was a bad thing, then Jael would argue with him on that point. As she strode toward the hall, Jael watched Dred construct the Dread Queen’s armor, scale by scale.

By the time they arrived, she was magnificent in her determination. “We have not come this far, only to let the final prey elude us. The Great Bear’s hiding somewhere in this territory. Divide into scouting parties, each eight strong. Find him.” Queensland forces howled in anticipation, but she held up a hand to quiet them. “Do not engage. Grigor belongs to me, and I’ll have his blood in recompense before the day’s done.”

The Skullface watched Silence’s response to the queen’s words, then pronounced, “Your loss is greater than ours. We approve your blood vow.” Death’s Handmaiden etched a final symbol in the air, spoken by her painted mouthpiece. “So must it be.”