Silent Rising, Page 3

Imperials here.

  Macrinus reply came quickly – Something is happening, Lucius. The Praetorian fleet is moving over the palace. I am reading reports about riots on Palatine ... Wait! My prince, your father. He – he’s dead…

  What? – the outburst of anger and surprise made his connection flicker for a moment.

  I think it’s the Praetorians, my prince – sent Macrinus – Their fleet – it’s, it’s moving on our position. They’re opening fire–! And his transmission ended with an outburst of surprise, confusion, and then finally silence.

  “Nooooooo!” Lucius screamed.

  Carus came in rushing. “My prince?” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “Macrinus,” Lucius mumbled, “my father … they …”

  “This one’s alive!” called Olybrius.

  It felt like a magnet to the prince, pulling his feet closer to Olybrius. His mind still wrapped around Macrinus’s transmission. He couldn’t believe what was happening … riots? Praetorians attacking their own? Killing the man they sworn to protect? Killing his friend …

  Lucius reached Olybrius. He looked down at his feet. The body on the floor was clearly a Bion. His suit radiated red aura, something that the attackers earlier were missing. The wound on his stomach was a splatter of hot red. The savage was alive, but it didn’t seem he would stay that way for long.

  “His suit is pierced,” said Olybrius, “He’s leaking oxygen.”

  “And he’s leaking red fluid,” Carus added.

  Lucius kneeled and grabbed the savage by the shoulder straps on his suit. He shook him. “What happened here? Who attacked you? Where is Jupiter’s Scepter?” As if the Bion would understand a word even if he could hear it. Lucius switched his vision back to regular, and glared at the savage. He was pale, his eyes wide and black in the darkness, his blinking slow, almost sleepy. The savage muttered something then coughed blood that splattered the insides of his visor.

  “What did he say?” asked Carus.

  The savage’s lips moved while Lucius’s cranial computer gave voice to his words. “Eve … Eve ...”

  “You know their language, Olybrius,” said Carus. “Translate, would you?”

  “He said Eve. I don’t know what that is.”

  Jupiter’s Scepter, thought Lucius, they call it Eve.

  “There is still hope,” the savage said in Imperial tongue that surprised all three.

  “Hope?” asked Carus. And then something glinted in the savage’s hand. Carus crouched and opened it. A polished sphere rolled out.

  “Eve…” the savage muttered with his final breath and his eyes remained opened but dead and unblinking. The sphere started beeping. Lucius and Olybrius locked eyes in sudden realization that the beeping was a countdown, and then there was a flash of light, a sharp pain in every part of Lucius’s body, a dreadful feeling of impending death…

  And then it came. Utter blackness.

  AILIOS

  It was a murky morning. Mist had covered the green land that stretched beyond what any man could see. And even though Ailios couldn’t see behind the mist he knew there was a crowd gathered outside to watch him suffer. He could hear their faint murmur drifting into his cell. Ailios craned his neck to look through the small hole of a window, to see the sky. The rain that poured all night had turned into a thin drizzle. The thought of all those people damp and wet drew a barely visible smile on his face. But the smile left his face as quickly as it appeared. He would become damp and wet very soon as well; Water wasn’t one of his favorite elements. Well, it could’ve been worse, he thought. Imagine being executed on a fine sunny day. And those days were rare on Talam. At least Ifrin is warmer. His soul would forever burn in its rivers.

  It was pathetic, now that Ailios came to think of it, that the greatest man that made so many women happy and saved his people (or so he would like to think) was sitting in a cold cell, sentenced to die. Being sentenced to prison for all eternity sounded worse, he had to admit. However, murder was punishable by death on Talam, so he knew what to expect.

  For a moment he wondered if there would be anyone on Talam who would miss him after he’s gone. Maybe Shaila? No, he slept with her once, right before the accident. But hey, he remembered her name; that was something. How about Jordaine? Or was it Isbeil? Nope. She threw his boots at his face and cursed him to die. She was definitely out there, waiting for his execution. Okay, who else? Baltair maybe? Well, he was the closest thing to a friend, the annoying bastard he was, but he was a good man. I found one who would probably miss me and it’s not a woman, thought Ailios. Such a pity.

  His hand moved involuntarily to his throat. His fingers rubbed the triangular piece of glass that hung on his leather necklace. Was it worth it? he wondered.

  And then he heard footsteps beyond the door, splashing in pools of water. He heard keys rattling, and the door to his cell swung open.

  “Your time has come, criminal,” said a tall man with a spear.

  “Does that mean I’m free to go?”

  The man grunted and hit the butt of his spear on the floor. “Out,” he said.

  Ailios stood up and shrugged. “You did say my time has come,” he said, but the man didn’t honor him with response.

  The guard tied Ailios’s hands behind his back and pushed him out. At that moment, Ailios felt an undeniable urge to run away. He knew the mist would cover his escape. He also knew that the guard was a good spear thrower. Maybe there were few more guards with real weapons that he couldn’t see. Besides, Ailios was a climber, a quiet mover, not a runner. He could never outrun the guard.

  He exhaled. His feet walked him through the clearing mist, damp grass and mud squishing under his boots. A gentle breeze touched his face. He stopped then. His nostrils flared, his lungs filled with air. Ah, the smell after rain. He tried to savor it for one last time.

  “Move,” he heard, and started walking again. Soon they reached a circle of pillars under the open sky, where on a dais right in front of them sat three people. Ailios couldn’t help but notice how plump the man sitting on the left was. He wore black suit as if to make his frame smaller. How funny is that? The zip on his belly made a short slide down under his chest. For a moment it looked like it would pop any second now and open a doorway into Ifrin’s fatty fields – black and awfully hairy fields. Ailios turned to look at the other man that sat on the right. He had a tattooed face and wore a military uniform. Ailios recognized the tattoos: two beheaded Imperial eagles under his left eye – a mark of two hundred Cyons he killed; and five stars under his right eye, pierced by the silver spear of Segomo – a mark of five Cyon noblemen he killed in hand-to-hand combat. He’s a member of the hunters’ tribe.

  Between both men sat a woman. Ailios first looked at her breasts, only to be slightly disappointed. She was flat as a board, and thin. Even her face was a frame of bones. She does have nice lips, though.

  Ailios looked around. The crowd stood in between pillars, peering above guards’ heads with every chance they could get. Their faces were happy, but damp. And the drizzle was gone when Ailios looked up. He was the only man out here that was dry; him and his guard – a small victory worthy of smile.

  “May the accused step forward,” said the woman on the dais. Ailios felt the tip of the spear on his back. One step at a time, he got closer, to see his executioners better. The man on the right was definitely military. The woman in the middle wasn’t as pretty as an average woman on Talam, but she would do if need be. The fat man on the left was a priest in the Temple of Sirona, Ailios realized when he noticed the goddess’s curled snake sewed around his left arm. For a moment Ailios thought he recognized the man, though he couldn’t remember where from.

  “The accused is clearly guilty,” mumbled the priest. He sounded as if he had some food leftovers in his mouth and was still chewing.

  “How did you tell?” asked Ailios. “Is it the hair? I think it’s the hair–”

  “Silence!” shouted the woman. “You will speak only when you are a
ddressed to. Is that understood?”

  A fiery woman, thought Ailios. Maybe she was prettier than he first thought. “Understood,” he said.

  Someone shouted from the crowd, “Murderer!” Ailios looked to his left where the shout came from. A woman waved her fist threateningly.

  Did I sleep with her too? he wondered.

  “Silence!” the woman on the dais shouted again. Her eyes moved down on a piece of paper she held in her hands. She read something and raised her eyes back up. “You have been accused of killing five hundred people. How do you plead?”

  “Guilty! Murderer!”

  Ailios looked to his other side this time where the shout came from. Another woman cried for his death. Oh, c’mon, he thought. Someone stirred uncomfortably beside her. Baltair. That sneaky bastard. And I thought he was going to miss me …

  “Silence!” the woman shouted again. The guards had to interfere to calm the crowd.

  Once they settled, Ailios said, “Not guilty.”

  “Liar! Guilty!”

  The fat priest smacked his lips. He said, “I have to agree with these people – he is guilty and a liar.”

  What’s his problem? Ailios wondered.

  The woman turned to face the priest. “Gailion, let the man talk.” So his name’s Gailion … But still doesn’t ring a bell. Two dark eyes in that bony face of hers moved back to Ailios. “What is the proof of your innocence?” she asked.

  “Those people you claim I killed were not human,” Ailios said. “They were cybernetically enhanced. They were Cyons.”

  “Blasphemy!” screamed Gailion, his jowls quivering. “Humans do not use cybernetic enhancements. That is blasphemy! And if they were indeed Cyons, as you claim, they would’ve never entered an ancient temple. Admit it, murderer, those people you killed were human!”

  “Guilty! Guilty!”

  “Look, I know what I saw. The first man I fought lost his arm. I can tell you, it didn’t break as a normal arm should.” Actually, Ailios broke the man’s arm with his spear and with lots of effort before the man could get a chance to kill him – but he did saw a metal bone once it came off.

  “A-ha!” Gailion slapped his belly and then pointed his finger at Ailios. “So you do admit that you killed a fellow human!”

  “No. I entered the temple–”

  “To steal ancient relics!” Gailion shouted again, sweat glistened on his forehead. “Admit it! You’re nothing but a thief and a liar!”

  “And I thought you were a priest not a judge,” muttered Ailios.

  “For gods’ sake, let the man speak,” the woman said.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Ailios had to say. That man was really annoying.

  “I am no lady. You will address me as Judge Maira.”

  Ailios realized he liked her even more now. I’ve never slept with a judge before. “As I was saying, I entered the temple–”

  “Thief! Guilty!” screamed the crowd.

  “Judge Maira,” said Ailios once the guards calmed the crowd, “I think you should start executing these people. Can’t you see how annoying they are?”

  “Silence!” she answered. Ailios shrugged. They would never listen. How could they ever believe that humans would become cybernetically enhanced? Even to Ailios it sounded impossible. And what the man said was true – Cyons would never enter an ancient temple. Something was amiss.

  “I demand this criminal to be executed,” said Gailion and wiped the sweat on his face with a napkin.

  “What is your problem?” Ailios finally asked. “It’s not like I killed your wife out there or anything–”

  “No, but you slept with her!” Veins trailed on Gailion’s red sweaty face.

  “Oh.” Suddenly Ailios remembered. It was a rainy day like any other on Talam, and the woman asked him for help with the water machine. Not that Ailios knew how to fix it, but he did know how to fix women’s problems, and he fixed hers quite