Sunspire (The Reach, Book 4) (40 page)

Duran glanced doubtfully at Zoe, but he knew he couldn’t turn his back now.  He’d committed to helping these people, hadn’t he?  Now he had to follow it through to the end.

“I’ll see if I can put this fire out,” Zoe said.  “If we don’t stop it now, the whole place is going to burn to the ground.”

“Start clearing debris,” Duran said to Roman.  “I’ll help.  But we have to do it quickly.”

“There were some tools in the storeroom around the corner,” Roman said.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Duran waved at the smoke and dust that swirled around him, then stepped forward and began hurling chunks of mortar aside.  He gripped a steel beam that was protruding from the rubble and began to lever it out.

He just hoped that he didn’t bring the whole roof down on top of himself in the process.

The rain splashed against the transformers around him, tiny droplets scattering against the light that shone from the railcar dock, but Nurzhan remained completely still.  He stood there listening for the telltale signs of his quarry – the scrape of boots, the rustle of fabric.  Sounds that did not fit with the constant drum of rain and the howl of the wind.

Nurzhan moved his head. 
There
.  Someone was approaching, coming right at him.  The man was heavyset, and sounded as though he
was
limping.  Wounded.

Lazarus?

Yes, that was the most likely option.  Nurzhan doubted Knile would attempt a direct confrontation, but Lazarus, with his immense strength, would favour a matchup in these close confines, where the assault rifle was less effective.

It was a sound plan, but it wasn’t going to be enough to fool Nurzhan.

He stepped quickly to the side, to the next row of transformers, and there he was – Aron Lazarus, in all his glory – and he was only a matter of metres away.  Nurzhan fired, and Lazarus veered across to the next row, out of harm’s way.

Nurzhan glanced down at his rifle, perturbed.  Only two rounds had been discharged.  He pull
ed the clip free, and sure enough it was empty.

Of course
.  The magazine was an older one that he had used out in the lowlands and later swapped for a full clip.

He was out of ammunition.

Nurzhan allowed the rifle to clatter to the ground.  He was unconcerned by the loss of it.

After all, he was the future High Priest of the Citadel.  He was not destined to die here.  He would kill these men with his bare hands.

He worked his way across the substation, following in Lazarus’ wake.  He’d seen enough to know that his former colleague was indeed wounded.  He was moving awkwardly, in an ungainly fashion, favouring his left side.

No wonder he was trying to end the encounter quickly.  He was a mess.

Nurzhan considered his options.  He figured that once Lazarus was dead, he could capture Knile and use him as a hostage, a bargaining chip, in order to secure passage up the space elevator for both himself and Kazimir.

And if Knile proved too troublesome, Nurzhan would kill him and use Talia instead.  Or the boy, Roman.

Nurzhan smiled.  He had plenty of choices.

At the edge of the substation, footprints in the mud led off toward an outcropping of sizeable boulders nearby.  There was a great number of them, together forming a loose perimeter around the edge of the mountaintop.

There would be any number
of hiding spaces within.  Lazarus could be anywhere.

Perhaps I have this all backward
, Nurzhan thought as he stood there listening. 
Why am I chasing them?  I could double back to the complex, wait for them to come to me–

He heard something behind him, saw a flash in his periphery, and moved just in time.  Lazarus came at him hard, swinging his huge fist in an arc that scraped across Nurzhan’s back as he attempted to move out of the way.  Lazarus overbalanced and tripped, then went sprawling in the mud.  He remained there on his hands and knees, glaring up at Nurzhan balefully.

“Sneaky,” Nurzhan admonished playfully.  He worked his shoulder gingerly.  “That blow will leave a good bruise, no doubt.”  He hooked his fingers in his belt. “But in the old days, you would have broken three of my ribs with that strike.  What’s happened to you, Lazarus?  You’ve become old.  Slow. 
Weak
.”

Lazarus got to his feet, lips pressed together in consternation.  “Is that so, Nurzhan?  Then come at me.”

“Why would I want to end this quickly when I’m having so much fun?”

Lazarus lumbered forward, splashing through the mud, and Nurzhan avoided his attack easily, ducking under another swinging fist and planting a shot into Lazarus’ kidney for good measure.

Lazarus gasped and stumbled, then went down in the mud yet again.

Nurzhan frowned.  “Something really is wrong with you, isn’t it, old friend?  Have you grown fat and lazy
as you’ve wallowed in Landfall?”

Lazarus spat something into the mud, and Nurzhan couldn’t be sure if his opponent even had the strength to rise to his feet again.  Nurzhan stood there, disappointed.  This was not the challenge he had hoped it would be.

Now he was impatient for the fight to be over.  He had work to do.

“Get up, Lazarus.  Get up so that the High Priest may pass judgement upon you.”

Lazarus narrowed his eyes.  “What madness is this?  Of whom do you speak?”

Nurzhan spread his arms wide.  “Who do you think?”

Lazarus’ eyes widened.  “It is monstrous to make such a claim.  Unforgivable.”

“Not if it is true.”

Lazarus hauled himself to his feet.  “Why would you lower yourself in such a way?  You demean us both.”

“Ah, yes.  Here we are, two fallen heroes standing ankle-deep in mud and shit.  But only one of us belongs here.  I wonder if you can–”

Lazarus charged at him, and Nurzhan moved swiftly in response.  He stepped inside the larger man’s attack, then delivered a brutal strike to Lazarus’ jaw.  Lazarus stopped in his tracks, staggering backward, and Nurzhan came again, clubbing him viciously across the nose.  Lazarus fell heavily on his backside, splashing mud in all directions, and then Nurzhan delivered a final blow that sent his opponent sprawling backward into the slush.

Lazarus tried to get up, but could barely raise his head.

Nurzhan stepped closer and raised his boot.

“Hey!” someone called behind him.  “Step back!”

Knile held the assault rifle steady on Nurzhan as the Redman slowly stepped away from Lazarus and took a few paces forward.  Nurzhan seemed unfazed by Knile’s arrival, like it was all part of his plan that they should meet like this.  He had a jovial look in his eye, and that ticked Knile off no end.

“That’s right,” Knile said.  “Leave him alone.”

“I think he’s done, anyway,” Nurzhan said casually.

Knile stared at Nurzhan’s
face.  “I know you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.  You worked for Hanker.  I saw you in the consulate a few times.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“So, where is the old bastard?  Still pulling the strings from the shadows, I guess.  I have a score to settle with him.”

“There’ll be no settling any scores, Knile.  Consul Hanker is lying in the bowels of the Reach with a smoking hole in his chest.”

“How did that happen?”

“I may have grown a little impatient with him and accidentally launched a pulse round into his body from point blank range.”  Nurzhan gave him a mocking grin.  “He didn’t take it well.”

“Nice loyalty, there.”

“
Fuck
loyalty,” Nurzhan spat.  “Hanker disgraced me.  Me and Kazimir both.  That stunt with the bomb in the railcar…”  He shook his head.  “We must have been the laughing stock of the Outworlds, to have served under such a fool.”

“I’m crying for you on the inside.  Really.”

“No matter,” Nurzhan said, beginning to walk toward him.  “Kazimir and I are leaving here tonight.  We’re going to return to the Citadel on Mars.  We will find our redemption there.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have a say in the matter.”

“I think I do.”

Nurzhan was still walking toward him.  “Then say what you must.”

“Stop where you are.  Get down on the ground.”

He was only three paces away now.  “Or?”

“Or I use your gun and put you down the hard way.”

“Do what you must.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?” Knile yelled at him.  “You think I haven’t killed Redmen before?  I
do that shit for
fun!
  Now get down on the ground!”

Nurzhan closed the gap between them with a sharp leaping movement, reaching out and gripping Knile by the collar, hauling him upward.  He leaned in close.

“I have bad news for you,” Nurzhan said, smiling wickedly.

“Yeah, the rifle’s empty.  I figured that out already, asshole.”

Knile had already dropped one hand from the assault rifle and reached around behind his back, and now he swung with all his might.  Nurzhan saw the blow coming at the last second, but he raised his arm a moment too late to block it entirely.  The shiv bit into his neck, and the two of them fell away from each other as Nurzhan cried out.  Knile recovered quickly, the shiv still in his hand, but now he saw that he had only delivered a glancing blow to Nurzhan’s neck.  The Redman lifted a hand to staunch the flow of blood.

He didn’t look amused anymore.  Not in the least.

“That was a mistake,” Nurzhan said coolly.

Knile stood his ground, but now he knew that he was in trouble.  The surprise attack had been his only real play.  Nurzhan was bigger, stronger, faster.  He was a trained killer, a
Redman
, for fuck’s sake.  Knile didn’t stand a chance against him in a straight up fight.

He needed to strike quickly, while his opponent was still reeling from from the gash in his neck, but what was he to do?

The only idea that came to him was to try to knock Nurzhan off his feet, maybe get close enough to make a more telling strike with the shiv.  He bounded forward and put his shoulder into the Redman’s chest.  It was like hitting a granite wall, but somehow he managed to make his opponent stumble backward.  Nurzhan recovered, and with a roar of anger sent Knile spinning through the air.  Knile landed heavily again, and his shoulder seared with agonising pain.

Nurzhan moved toward him.

“You think you’re clever,” he sneered, “but I’m going teach you–”

Something sloshed in the mud at Nurzhan’s feet, and he stopped dead.

Aron Lazarus, lying belly-down in mud, face smeared with blood, had snared his ankle in one mighty hand.

Nurzhan raised his fist in retaliation, but Lazarus’ other hand snaked up and gripped him by the belt.  With one powerful motion, he yanked Nurzhan downward, slamming him into the ground.  As Nurzhan lay there, dazed, Lazarus drew himself up and slumped on top of him, pinning him to the ground like a weary wrestler attempting to subdue his opponent.  His hands slid up
and closed around Nurzhan’s neck.