The Serpents and the Skulls, Chapter 5.4
12 May 2017Michael Wolfe
Above my head, the ships of the Nijkas Gold Crew flew like vultures.
Let them fly.
On an island of jagged volcanic rock separated by a roiling sea of lava, the wreckage of the Seren Du sat, smoldering and hopelessly unreachable. Flames and black smoke licked along its ruined hull.
Let it burn.
And not a stone’s throw away, the woman who killed my father stood like the Reaper, clad in black leather and gazing at me with an almost sexual bloodlust.
Let her stare.
To my side was Idris, stepping protectively in front of me. He, too, had seen the security footage of Kat von Steuben striding down the corridor in Azalea’s suite, killing her and her bodyguards with contemptuous ease. She was no fool in close quarters, and he knew it. The mechanical sounds of him readying his battle rifle reminded me of his task.
“Shall I end her?”
I held up my hand, sensing that she would have prepared for such an obvious trap. Perhaps her ship was locked on to me? Even the smaller multicannons would have been enough to destroy the island on which I stood.
Then why not simply do so?
The woman’s wrist flicked, uncoiling the same cruel-looking razorwhip that she had used to butcher Azalea. I felt a smile tug the sides of my mouth.
Of course. Her ego demands that the deed be done by her own hand. Are you watching, Father? Today your true heir avenges you.
“No. I have the feeling that words will come before deeds.”
His mouth set, unconvinced. “Ie, Feistres.”
I stepped forward, feeling the hot breeze blow the blood-red leather jacket around my knees. As hot as it was, I’d needed it. For hours, I had been within the obelisk, locking eyes with the shimmering holo-portrait of Rabat until the sounds of battle had snapped me from my trance. Victor’s fleet had been driven away, but I wasn’t afraid. I let the heavy garment slip from my shoulders, feeling a rush of hot breeze on my skin as it did so. Kat and I were now dressed almost the same, in black leathers with exposed arms. Clan markings and coiled serpents adorned our skin, a classical Pegasi showdown.
Everything has led to this moment.
All around us, the slowly-sinking hulks of both Serpent and Skull ships were settling into the lava. It would be a long, long time before their hulls were totally melted, constructed as they were from alloys that were designed to protect the ship even when perilously close to the raw heat of stars. There were doubtlessly still men and woman trapped inside several of them, but they were none of my concern. I’d turned off my personal comm device when the screams and pleas for help from Victor’s pilots had proven too distracting.
Across the rocky island, I could hear Kat speaking, her mouth curling into that cunning smile of hers.
“It is fitting, ja? That he died in such a hell.”
I looked at the woman sideways. I remember thinking the same thing.
Drawing myself up, I matched her smile. “He always thought that it would be another Morgan, you know? Not cheap-shotted by some nobody Imperial scalptaker. He deserved better.”
The pale woman’s grin settled into a sad smile, her eyes deepening. “Nein, meine kleine Amsel. He deserved worse.”
Idris raised his rifle, Kat’s keen eyes sensing the movement and reacting swiftly. Before he could even pull the trigger, she had drawn back the razorwhip and snapped, shattering the weapon. He recoiled and let out a surprised grunt, the rifle dropping from his hands. A few unfired shells spilled from the cracked chamber.
A pouty look crossed Kat’s face as she slowly wagged a finger at us.
“Uh-uh-uh. Your Hund is unhousebroken, I think. And such a fine specimen, too! It would be a pity if I had to do the breaking for you.”
My teeth gritting, I glanced at my bodyguard. I’d wanted him to cripple her from a distance, before she could lash out with her razorwhip. But we’d cut it just a little too close, and now his rifle was unusable. There was only his plasma pistol left, still holstered.
We can still take her down. We just have to be quicker on the draw.
I stepped wearily to the side, eyes on the razorwhip in Kat’s hand. Memories of the horrific, bloody gouges that it left flashed in my vision.
“It won't be that easy. I'm not Azalea.”
The woman’s smile twisted as her eyes grew wide. “Hmm! Azaleas’s last words were a plea that she wasn't you. How does that make you feel?”
I felt my teeth bare as I reached for Idris’s pistol. “Like I've heard enough!”
In a flurry of fire and action, both I and the black-leathered reaper exchanged fire, her blue and my red plasma bolts crisscrossing across the island. We moved, keeping our heads low as we emptied our weapons’ energy cells. The superheated rounds ignited the flammable pockets of gas in the air, obscuring our vision and throwing off our aim.
To my side, Idris clenched his fists and charged the woman, seeming less like a man and more like a bull. Through the laser fire, I couldn't see but hear the sharp crack as the razorwhip curled around his ankle, sawing through the thinner armor and eviscerating the flesh beneath. The armored hulk bellowed in pain as he fell, hitting the ground and skidding from his momentum. A pool of blood was already spreading under his foot. The large tendon in his heel had been severed, the razorwhip cutting to the bone.
For our parts, the energy cells were spent and our weapons too hot to carry. I tossed mine aside, warily eyeing Kat as she again flicked her wrist, loosening the whip and preparing it for another strike. Even face-down and unable to walk, Idris would tear her apart if he got close enough.
Seeing my champion fall, I spat in rage. “Hwran!”
Like me, Kat tossed aside her carbine. It's barrel was glowing red. She looked down at the fallen brute, and then back up to me. Her eyes danced with mocking innocence.
“Oh! Did this wilde Tier mean something to you? Do you play fetch and teach it tricks?”
Idris was still crawling forward, single-minded in his mission to destroy the threat to me, his mistress. Kat looked down at him with contempt before again drawing back the razorwhip.
“Nein? What about ‘play dead?”
With a single lash, Idris arched his back, his renewed howls of pain carried by the hot winds. At first I couldn't tell what had happened, so quickly had Kat and her razorwhip moved. But there it was- the triangular tip, embedded in the small of his back. His legs twitched and spasmed, their nerves reeling from the trauma.
Disarmed of my guard and my weapons, I fell back on pure instinct. With a war scream of my own, I charged the leatherclad woman. She dodged the blow and expertly backhanded my face as I stumbled down to the jagged rock, catching my fall on my hands and skinning them. But I wasn't concerned with a little lost skin as much as the fact that my back was now turned to Kat. Visions of Maiva from Azalea’s suite filled my mind. The thought of being paralysed terrified me.
Get up.
I spun around just in time to receive another blow from Kat, a kick to the belly that sent me staggering back. I was too close for her to use the razorwhip, and neither of us could back up much further. Behind Kat was a wounded monster whose mission in life was to tear her arms off. Behind me was a sharp drop and flowing lava. My heart was beating harder than I could remember, the volcanic winds carrying with them voices and memories.
Kat pressed her advantage, but too eagerly. She swung again, barely missing as I dodged to the side. I bunched up my fists and hit the woman hard in the ribs…
Like he used to do to you…
I landed another blow, with my other fist on her other side. It was her turn to cry out in pain.
… when his only rule was to never mark your face.
Kat was doubled over, my third blow connecting with her belly. I raised my fist, my chest swelling with hatred. With skinned fingers I gripped her jaw, tilting her head up to me.
But that was him…
Her hand caught mine on its way down, her grip far stronger than mine. I released her chin and swung with my other hand- and that blow, too, was caught. Slowly, deliberately, Kat von Steuben stood to her full height and looked up, our eyes locking and our arms straining in a contest of strength and will.
Slowly, contemptuously, the reaper was forcing my arms down, domination in her eyes. I gulped air as her face shifted and distorted into something inhuman. The roar of the surrounding volcanic hell gave way to the dread voice of my childhood, though the face of the person across from me wasn't clear. The twisted face spoke with his voice...
“Weak. You always were.”
A man’s roar refocused the face into Kat’s, another backhand sending me back down to the rocky ground. Idris was at his full height, his arms spread wide, renewing his challenge. Protruding from the side of his leg was a large field syringe, nestled between the heavy plates of armor. With renewed vigor, the man pulled the needle from his flesh and tossed it aside.
My eyes widened as I realized what Idris had done. The cocktail of drugs coursing through his body was almost as dangerous as the trauma it was meant to heal. It healed rapidly and banished fear, but was dangerously unstable. None but those with Idris’s conditioning could survive a dose. Their hearts simply couldn’t keep up.
Stumbling forward on his partially-healed tendon, Idris unsheathed his combat knife, a large, oversized blade made custom for him. Kat took a cautious step back, weary of the enraged brute. I struggled to my feet, my face still stinging from her fist. Idris flipped the blade over into a reverse grip, swinging in short, efficient strokes. The lithe woman ducked and dodged, backing away from his limping advance. She knew better than to let him get close, but the drop into the flowing ocean of lava was at her back.
In a rage, Idris bellowed and swung hard, his better judgement overruled by the aggression-amplifying drugs in his veins. Kat darted away as he stumbled on his maimed ankle, deftly letting him charge toward the edge of the island. With a single, smooth motion, she drew back her razorwhip and he spun to face her, his knife held high in the air. The whip coiled around the thick ceramic plate covering his forearm, the millions of magnetically-suspended microblades sawing through the material.
With a savage pull on the whip, the giant dropped to one knee, the razorship already beginning to cut into his flesh. Idris clawed desperately at the cruel weapon, trying to uncoil it before it rendered his arm useless. Seeing her opportunity, Kat stepped forward forward, standing over the kneeling brute.
The woman’s mouth smirked in cruel triumph. “Say goodbye, Wachhund.”
With a single, savage kick to the chest, she sent him over the edge. Drawing herself to her full height, Kat watched as he rolled down the side of the island towards the lava below. Sadistically beholding her handiwork, her eyes widened as her breath escaped her mouth in a slow, almost vampiric exhale. From below us, we heard the liquidly impact and screams of fiery pain.
A feeling of loss and nausea roiled my stomach. Idris…
Slowly, ominously, the black-clad reaper turned, her dark eyes fixating upon me. I was alone. My heart pounded, real fear setting in for the first time.
Is this how Rabat died? By underestimating her?
Kat gathered the razorship around her as I stumbled backward, trying and failing to get out of lashing range. There was no place to flee. My ship was destroyed, and retreating into the obelisk would only trap me further. The drumming in my head threatened to drown out of the roar of the lava.
I spun toward the monument entrance, not seeing a better alternative. There was a ceremonial sword within, and with a little luck, I could-
“Going somewhere, meine kleine Amsel?”
The lash pieced the back of my thigh, cutting through the muscle and cracking the bone beneath. I fell to my hands and knees, not seeing but hearing the sound of heels on stone. In my shock, there was no pain from my leg yet. It wasn’t responding to commands to move, at least not well. Walking was out of the question. I would surely die, miserable and alone. Like Azalea. Like Rabat, whose ghost would forever haunt this hell-cursed place.
Father, please...
I rolled to my back, the world distorting. The orange sky and fiery hellscape blurred, the only things in my reality being myself and the monster standing over me. The reality around me further dissolved, until-
The woman stood over me, her eyes glowing a deep, cold blue. Her clothing seemed more scaley than before, her hair black as the void. I squeezed my eyes shut, and upon opening them saw that her arm wasn’t an arm, but a long, writhing snake. The serpent uncoiled and hissed, snapping at my other leg, piercing the flesh and injecting its venom. I cried out in pain and misery, crippled and alone. Far above our heads was the sounds of battle, of lasers and multicannons and death. The demoness fixated on me, her glowing eyes becoming slits as she ignored the intrusion.
“This is the very end of your line, she-wolf. You die alone and hated, like that monster of a father.”
The serpent hissed and drew itself up, tongue flitting and mouth opening. Its eyes flared as it bared its fangs, preparing for the final strike to my throat…
The massive figure looked at first like animated fire, an element of the gods given life. It rose like a titan from the rock behind her, the fiery primordial essence dripping from its limbs. Its face emerged somewhat, the dark fires around its features settling into a black beard and soulless eyes…
In a rage, the woman spun around to confront her challenger. The serpent that was her arm snapped and hissed, but the figure gripped the writhing member in its hands, roaring in fury as he broke the serpent’s back. A look of fearless rage solidified in its features, a rage which I’d feared from the earliest days of my childhood.
But today, it was directed at the woman. With the strength that had once terrified me, the figure pulled the serpent apart in his bare hands, black blood spilling from its severed halves. But the demoness was not so easily beaten. Her figure was petite and feminine, but composed of dark, formless shadow rather than flesh. Fire and darkness battled before me. The flames of my protector could not pierce the shadow, and the lithe sliver of shade could not extinguish his glow.
Yet the fiery savior was not of this world, and began to tire. He had been beaten by the shadow before, and though he fought with all the fury of his former life, his flame slowly diminished. Sensing her advantage, the demoness lunged, the icy glow of her eyes intensifying as she kicked with a strike that was swift and sure. Her blow left a tendril of darkness in his chest, the last of his strength seeping into the void. He faded and stumbled backward toward me.
“I have failed you…”
Idris collapsed at my side, the still-cooling lava solidifying on his body. His mouth was blistered and burned, the skin where his plates of armor didn’t cover charred and black. He breathed only with difficulty, his limbs twitching.
The sounds of battle were drawing nearer, the deafening sound of a ship crashing into the lava too close for comfort.
So I'm not alone, after all.
I smiled weakly at the black-clad woman standing before me. No matter the outcome, she was doomed alongside me.
“Listen. The rest of your clan is dying. You lose.”
A look of rage contorted her features and her raised her whip- but lowered it again, the severed length too short to use. The last few electrical arcs from the useless end sparked and died. Instead, she fell around me, straddling my broken body and clutching my halter top. It fell open in her grip, revealing the top of my twin skull tattoo. The savagery intensified in her face as she pulled my up to face her.
“It was never my clan. But those old priests were right about one thing.”
Another crash thundered nearby, shaking the jagged ground underneath us. Kat looked down at the tattooed symbol of my power, snarling. Hatred danced in her eyes as she raised the serpent-butted handle of the razorwhip.
“I am the Black Dragon!”
The first blow was to my chest, over the sternum and directly between the tattooed skulls. The cartilage separated from my ribs as they flexed and cracked. Pain spread throughout my torso, my nerves burning like fire. I cried out in agony under the reaper, my mind exploding in panic.
“I am the fangs of the Great Serpent!”
The second blow shattered my face, just to the side of my nose. I heard a sickening crack in my ears as the bone broke, making the orange sky spin.
“I am the one who brings death to the many!”
The third blow was to my temple, sending the sky spinning again as black spots exploded over my vision. A loud ringing noise sounded in my ears as I became vaguely aware of my hair being drenched in hot liquid.
I rolled my head to the side, coughing blood and teeth. It was all I could do to think clearly, but the order in which she’d delivered her lines jogged my memory. It had been the same as when the Black Dragon prior to her had sacrificed himself in the face of hundreds of Black Omega shock troops. My panic demanded that I surrender, to plead for the mercy of abandonment or death. Anything to end the torment. But it was silenced by a deep, familiar voice.
No. You’re a Morgan. My daughter. My heir. And you will not beg.
My eyes closed as I focused on its words; reassuring me, steadying my breathing, calming my heartbeat.
One card left to play, girl...
In a final burst of clarity, I bent my leg, reaching down with one hand as Kat raised hers to deliver the coup de grace. Opening my eyes, I looked up at Kat. She was a fearful sight, her eyes filled with hatred and cruelty as she anticipated the final blow-
Her breath came as a gasp. Then, her eyes widened in a look of disbelief and shock, her hand first trembling and then dropping the handle of the razorwhip. It fell to the rough volcanic rock beside us, rolling back and forth, the snarling, bloody serpent on the butt still looking at me.
She had been fast, but I was faster. Slowly, I pulled the knife in my hand from between her ribs, a scream of pain finally escaping her lips as I twisted the blade on its way out. At the same time that she was tilting her head back to make the anguished noise, I used the last of my strength for a final slash.
It wasn’t deep, and it wasn’t fatal- but Kat von Steuben’s newly-opened throat gushed with blood, spilling onto my face and chest in a way that was curiously reminiscent of Azalea Constantinestu’s final moments. In the madness of the moment, I allowed myself a smile.
Except this time, it isn’t my blood all over my tits. It’s hers.
With my other hand, I gripped the opening of Kat’s leather top, pulling her to me. Blood seeped from her mouth onto my face, mixing with my own. Despite the pain and difficulty in doing so, I twisted my broken face into a sneer.
“You… are nobody.”
The stricken woman clutched her throat and recoiled. She let out a single, violent cough, spraying more blood over my face and hair as the red liquid ran down the front of her chin. The bounty hunter pulled away from my grasp and scrambled to her feet, too busy clutching her throat to reach for her discarded weapon. The sounds of battle in the atmosphere intensified as another nearby crash sent a plume of lava into the air, the orange material cooling into a blackened state before landing back into the syrupy flow.
After another liquid cough, she raised a trembling finger to me.
“It is true, what is said. You are the verdammt black witch of the void! You are evil. Evil!”
I weakly smiled, hearing the low rumble of approaching ships. Big ones, from the way that the pebbles at my fingertips were shaking. The sounds of battle had ceased. The war was well and truly over. “And you're the fool who had the witch in her grasp three times- and still couldn’t kill her.”
The woman’s face contorted with rage, stumbling toward her waiting ship as time ran out. Even under the black leather, I could see the wet stain spreading over her torso. Scrambling up the ramp, she turned to face me. I rolled to my side and painfully got to my hands and knees. Even if I could barely hold my head up, I’d be damned if I let her see me down. But she wasn’t finished.
“I’ll come for you, kleine Amsel. In your home. In your thoughts. In your nightmares. I will find you!”
I looked up, returning her snarl with one of my own.
“And I’ll be waiting.”
We traded a last look, locking eyes with a mutual, soul-deep hatred. Then she raised the entry ramp, leaving a bloody smear on the controls where her hand had been. The ramp closed and sealed itself, allowing me to collapse on the jagged rock without her seeing. The roar of the thrusters intensified as I curled into a fetal position, shielding myself from the intense heat of the departing ship just in time.
I don’t know how long I laid there, next to Idris, broken and racked with pain. I was losing blood, and I couldn’t walk. He wasn’t moving either, and I couldn’t tell under the slag and the armor if he was breathing or not. What I do remember is heavy footsteps and a familiar voice shouting directions.
For a moment, I thought that I was hallucinating. Degginal DeVerre- don of Black Omega and one of the most powerful men in Pegasi- was kneeling over me. He looked younger than before. Color had returned to his skin, and his eyes were like they used to be. Gentle. Caring. Like the old Deggie, when I was a girl. Like when I had been the victim of a harsh word or beating from Rabat.
Like now.
The don looked at my broken body and frowned. It was the same as before, but reversed. Then, he’d been the stricken one and I’d been the first to see to him. Now the circle was complete. But there wasn’t time for that. I was Marrakech Morgan, daughter and sole heir of Rabat. One of us had to speak first.
“I did it. Just like you said. I did it.”
A look of puzzlement of spread over his features and he leaned in. “You did what, exactly?”
I reached down and gestured to the empty sheath. My voice was getting softer, and the half smile that I forced my face to make was more difficult than it should have been.
“Stuck a knife in my boot. Just like you said. Just like in the old days.”
An aged hand ran itself along my matted hair. It came away red with blood. Already, medics were seeing to me, cutting away torn and bloody clothing and administering emergency stims. He ignored them as he looked around at the scenes of death and destruction around us, his voice almost frighteningly gentle.
“Was it worth it, girl?”
I was already having trouble keeping awake, my mind drifting along with my consciousness. It was impossible to tell if the voice I heard was Deggie or a vivid memory of Deggie.
“But this is no simple job, contract, or heist; this is something that will change you. Forever. Although it's for the best, part of me is sad to say goodbye to the Marra I've come to know and care about…”
The world faded to black, the volatile hellscape and Deggie’s face both lost to the darkness. In another life, I had loved the man. He had been the father I thought I wished I had. Perhaps I loved him still. Degginal DeVerre was one of the most powerful men in Pegasi, and he had elevated me to his right hand. I lived in wealth, power, and luxury. I owed him my life, on this and many other occasions. Archon Delaine’s star was fading, and someone would need to step into the vacuum. It was only right that him and I would one day rule all of Pegasi as equals. But-
Marra...
In the darkness of my mind a new voice emerged. A strong voice.
Marra...
I gulped, no longer sure of what was and wasn’t real.
I’m here, Father.
Yes. A strong voice, one that I had learned to dread before I could even walk.
Have you learned nothing?
In times past, such a question might mean that I would go hungry or go with bruises. Now, I felt a flare of defiance in my belly.
I have learned more than you could possibly know. Everything that you ever did, and more.
From out of the darkness, the voice took on a stern edge.
Everything, except the most important thing.
A rush of fire spread through my veins.
I have surpassed you. I have restored the Morgan name. What lesson could you possibly have to teach me from out there in the aftervoid?
The familiar voice took an on edge, repeating an equally familiar mantra:
A Morgan doesn’t share power.