There were two huge whumps, and sheets of flame and energy shot through the gap between the two doors. It was followed by screams and thick black smoke; in that chaos lay my hope of survival.
I thrust to my feet, slung the pack over my shoulder, then grabbed the two gut busters and squeezed through the gap. The queen’s chamber was huge but just as stark as any of the others. She obviously had a lot of attendants, because there were body parts and gore splattered everywhere, but not all the guards were dead. Even as I dropped down onto the chamber’s floor, several of them attacked, their metal staffs held out before them and spitting goop even as they charged at me. I spun the air again; pain stabbed through my brain, momentarily fading my vision in and out. I blinked away the tears, raised the gut busters, and fired. As the Irkallan went down in the rain of metal, I turned and ran along the chamber’s wall, searching for the hole that had been made in the earth.
I spotted the queen first, and froze.
She was huge. Double the size of her attendants. Double the size of her guards. One of her mandibles was broken, but they nevertheless were a good foot in length, and looked strong enough to cut me in two without any problem.
She was lying on her side at the far end of the chamber, her lavender-blue body littered with wounds and a bloody hole where one eye had been. She was still alive—I could see the rise and fall of her torso—but for the moment, she wasn’t stirring. It was tempting—so tempting—to throw the backpack at her and let the bomb-blast finish her off. But the Irkallan were obviously smart and might well be able to deactivate the M185. I couldn’t risk that—couldn’t risk her regaining control of the bracelets.
I continued looking for the hole the earth had created, and finally spotted it halfway up the chamber’s wall, well beyond my reach—which also meant it was well beyond the reach of the Irkallan. I tossed the pack toward it, ordered the air to shove it deep in that hole, and then thrust a hand against the warm earth and asked it to seal the hole back up.
As the earth obeyed, the air screamed a warning. I swung around, gut buster blazing. Two Irkallan lost legs, the third lost his head, and the fourth came straight at me. I kept firing, shredding his chest and stomach, but it didn’t seem to matter. I swore and flicked the air at him. As he stumbled and almost fell, I quickly drew the sword with my free hand and swung it down, severing his head from his neck in one clean blow.
Where’s the other tunnel? I asked the air.
Directly across the room.
Directly across meant going through the Irkallan who were currently picking themselves up and looking around for trouble. But it was also the fastest way out of this damn room.
I sheathed the sword and reclaimed the other gun, shoved a fresh clip into both, and then ran directly at the Irkallan, firing as I did. As they went down in the hail of metal, that countdown in my head said time was starting to run out.
I jumped over rubble, furniture, and the dead, and ran on. More Irkallan soldiers came at me from the left and the right, some of them bleeding and broken, but all of them looking determined to get me. Weapons were raised and fired, and the mucus chased every footstep as I leapt and dodged and returned their fire.
I reached the archway and slid around the corner, only to come face-to-stomach with another batch of Irkallan. We went down in a mass of arms and legs, their mandibles clashing, tearing into various bits of my body even as I struggled to get free. The countdown in my head continued relentlessly, an ever-present reminder of how little time I had left.
I screamed in fury and fear, and began firing, even as I reached for the air and asked it for help. As the wind grabbed my arms and ripped me free from the melee, one of the Irkallan somehow twisted around and wrapped a hand around my leg, attempting to pull me back. It was lifted off the ground right along with me, but it didn’t seem to care. Its grip got tighter, its claws digging deep into my calf. I screamed again and kicked at it with my free leg, smashing it in the face. It didn’t make any difference and it certainly didn’t make it release me.
I asked the wind to release one hand and it immediately did so, wrapping thick fingers around my waist instead as it continued to speed us away from the queen’s chamber.
I switched the gut buster for my knife and plunged it past the Irkallan’s slashing mandibles and into its eye. As the Irkallan screamed and cursed me, I thrust the knife deeper into its skull, right into its brain. It died instantly, but it didn’t release me. I withdrew the gore-slicked knife and slashed it across the Irkallan’s limb, freeing the bulk of its body but leaving its claws embedded in my flesh. Blood was flowing altogether too freely down my leg, but those claws might also be the only things stopping that flow from being much worse.
Minutes. I only had minutes left.
Then I heard a sound that chilled my bones—a high-pitched scream of utter fury, and one that somehow had a distinctly female sound.
The queen was awake, and hunting.
Faster. I needed to go faster. But the wind could do only so much, and as my strength faded, so too did my control over her. If I forced more speed now, I’d have nothing left to confront the Irkallan who were with the children.
And if I didn’t, I’d be fighting the monster who ruled this place.
I found more strength from who knew where, and the wind’s speed increased. But that unholy roar of fury was drawing ever closer; the bitch was fast. Faster than the wind, at least right now.
I resolutely reloaded the gut busters then asked the wind to turn me around so that I was looking back rather than forward. The scrape of claws against tunnel’s stone floor was clearly audible now. She was close. So close.
I took a deep breath that did nothing to ease the sick fear in my gut and raised the gut busters. My hands were steady, even if my heart wasn’t.
The scraping grew so loud it was all I could hear, but the darkness remained resolute and still. No monsters emerged from it.
Not for several seconds.
Then the shadows parted, and she appeared. She might have a broken arm, a shattered mandible, and only one eye, but if the years of fighting the Adlin had taught me anything, it was the fact that a wounded adversary was sometimes the most dangerous.
I fired, and kept firing, as she arrowed toward me. Blood and gore flew as the bullets tore into her head, shoulders, and torso. The rain of metal should have killed her, but it didn’t. Her exoskeleton was thicker than even that of her soldiers’, and it was obviously going to take more than a few rounds to do any true damage.
I wasn’t sure I had that many rounds left, let alone enough time. The countdown clock in my head was now flashing red.
The queen raised her good arm and slashed at my face. I jerked back instinctively, even as the air wrenched me sideways. The queen’s mandibles clashed, barely missing my legs, snapping air instead. She slashed at me again, catching my hip, cutting through the ammo belt and down into skin. I hissed in pain but kept firing as I ordered the wind to brake. The queen’s momentum shot her past me, her thick claws drawing sparks from the stone as she slid to a stop and then spun around. I continued to fire; chunks of armor-like flesh were now flying, but if the queen was in any way feeling pain, she certainly wasn’t showing it.