Evan Currie - Heirs of Empire

Edvard smiled slowly. “I think it does.”

The emperor moved so fast he seemed to blur. The men covering him opened fire, but they were aiming at where he used to be, not where he was. He swept the Armati up as he moved, the weapon responding to his link automatically. It lengthened, flowing outward from the hilt, blade beveling and curving as he brought it around.

At the end of the arc, a fraction of an instant after he started to move, metal met metal and sparks erupted into the room as the Armati in the emperor’s grip slammed dead into another Armati wielded by his target.

Corian met Edvard’s eyes over the crossed blades and smirked slightly. “You sent a Cadre team after me, Edvard. Did you really think I wouldn’t replace what you stole?”

“They’re everywhere,” Brennan hissed softly, ducking back from where he’d been looking around the corner.

Lydia stared, wide-eyed and fearful. “What do we do?”

Brennan looked helplessly about, not wanting to speak the truth—that he had no clue whatsoever.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, not able to come up with anything else. “Just … we have to get away from them.”

She nodded, not having any better idea herself.

The two worked their way back from the men searching the wing, trying to find a way around them and out into the main part of the castle. But the infiltrators seemed to have every route covered. Brennan was feeling more and more desperate, knowing that he had to figure out a solution or bad things were going to happen to them both.

I can’t believe I’m trying this hard to keep a promise to Kayle.

Normally he’d make it a point of pride to disappoint his perfect older brother, but that line of thinking seemed more than a little petty at the moment, even to Brennan.

“My skimmer,” he finally said.

“What?” Lydia looked over at him sharply.

“They’re between us and every path out,” Brennan said, “but my skimmer is on the roof.”

“I am not getting in that thing with you flying, Brennan Scourwind!” Lydia hissed angrily. “I’ve not forgotten—”

“We don’t have a choice! Look, I’m sorry I tried to freak you out, OK?”

Lydia shot him a look that probably would have killed a man in a just universe. “Oh, now you admit you did it on purpose?”

“Yes, all right? I did it on purpose.” Brennan groaned. “Look, there’s no choice unless you want to take your chances surrendering …”

Lydia grimaced but finally nodded.

Brennan managed not to sigh in relief, instead grabbing his sister’s hand and running in the opposite direction from where they’d been heading before that. All the fighting was focused around the entryways, and so far the roof access was clear.

Kayle Scourwind led with his Armati Bene, cutting down three of the attackers from behind before they even knew he was there. The blaster in his off-hand barked a dozen times, filling the air with the smell of lase chemicals and superheated blood. The six-man squad he’d found hit the ground at the same time, but he had no time to give them a thought as he stepped over the bodies and entered the residency wing with purpose.

Bodies littered the floor, both those of Imperial guardsmen, the dedicated branch of military that protected the emperor and his family, and those of the attackers. Kayle didn’t have the time or inclination to bother identifying them, though he had his suspicions.

They’re using gamma burster carbines, he noted wearily. The only way they could have gotten those weapons in significant quantity is with major backing from the Senate.

The bursters were relatively new technology, still restricted and quite expensive. Despite being designed with combat in mind, they had a tendency to overpenetrate targets. That made them, perhaps, exceptional weapons for an open battlefield but poor excuses for gear in situations when you might have mixed environmental situations.

Perfect for killing Cadre, if you don’t care for the lives of anyone else.

His armor was cycling slowly through the nonvisible frequency ranges as he soft-stepped through the halls he’d once called home. As he got deeper in, it seemed that the fighting was wrapping up, and it appeared that the guardsmen had not been on the winning side.

“Any sign of them?” Kayle overheard an invader ask, while he leaned quietly against a wall and didn’t move.

“A squad thought they saw the girl and maybe the younger brother heading up for the roof. They’re in pursuit,” another responded.

Good man, Bren.

Kayle left them be, padding quietly for the roof himself. He didn’t need to kill all of the invaders.

Just the ones threatening his family.

“Everyone back up! This is between us,” Corian ordered, stepping back from Edvard as he swept the attacking blade aside with an almost casual motion, deflecting the emperor’s Armati blade.

Edvard tilted his head, shifting the blade up to a guard position. “Just like old times, then?”

“One last old time.” Corian nodded once, shifting his footing. “Your last.”

“You’ve got one leg, one eye, and you look like you just picked a fight with a freight hauler.” Edvard snorted, eyeing the armed men shifting around them. “And you wonder why we all considered you an arrogant son of a—”

Corian snapped his blade up, slashing at the emperor’s head with lightning speed. Edvard ducked back a half step, letting the blade pass, then countered with a lunge to Corian’s torso.

Corian pivoted, letting the blade pass by him as he turned, using the momentum of his initial strike to speed his turn as he tucked in his blade and stepped past the emperor’s lunging form. He flipped the Armati around in his hand easily and completed the move he started with the initial feint as his blade slid smoothly into Edvard’s back.

Edvard’s hand went limp, his blade dropping to the metal floor with a clatter.

Corian stepped in behind him, propping him up with the blade as he clamped his free hand onto the emperor’s shoulder and spoke softly into his ear.

“I’m not arrogant, Edvard,” he said simply. “I am just that damn good.”

Corian jerked the blade out, letting go of the emperor’s robes, and Edvard dropped to his knees as blood flowed freely and his clothing ran dark and wet with his life’s fluid.

As Edvard Scourwind slumped forward onto his face, Corian looked around the room.

“The emperor is dead. Long live the emperor.”

“There they are! Get them!”

Brennan shoved Lydia ahead of him as they broke out onto the roof, pausing only to slam the door shut behind him and seal it with the palace codes. He hoped that their pursuers didn’t have those same codes, but he knew that he couldn’t count on that.

He pushed off the door and bolted in the direction of the skimmer, hearing pounding on the door behind him as he did so.

“Get strapped in!” he ordered, grabbing the tie lines that secured the skimmer against wind gusts.

Brennan got the ties undone and tossed the lines aside, then grabbed the nose and pulled the light craft about, checking the first cloud layer carefully as he did. He didn’t have time to get proper bearings, so he’d have to get the launch right by dead reckoning everything.

Lydia was struggling with the harness in the backseat of the skimmer, fumbling with the unfamiliar clasp as he twisted the craft around.

“Left over right,” he called, “then flip the catch shut and pull the harness tight.”

The snub-nosed skimmer settled into position as he quickly checked the primer on the launchers and then pulled off the safety catches. With the craft ready to fly, Brennan ran back around to the front and rotated the flyer’s seat in front of his sister, locking it into place.