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There are still good people on Homeworld.
I race to the airlock controls as the soldiers turn against each other, slamming my hand down to stop the process. Then I open the secondary door, and my own troops pour in, Aramis at the front of the group.
And Sten, with his warrior mate at his side.
And Florian, my old flame.
And all the soldiers of Triton, and the refugees of Homeworld ready to reclaim our home.
We enter the city in a wave of victorious violence, where even more troops wait. But they’re not nearly as confident as they were when they met our landing party. We rush through the streets like a roaring river, washing away all vestiges of Lamia’s control as we go. Her silver-embroidered flag hangs in the sad windows of the city streets, and we tear them down and shred them under our stomping feet.
Cries of encouragement start to ring all around us on our way to the nautilus at the city’s center, where tunnels and stairways go down, down,downinto the Atarys Abyss. Lamia’s last line of troops is waiting there, consisting only of those foolish enough to accept her reign and those brainwashed beyond repair.
Her control is slipping. Even if she survives the night, she’ll have to flee the city.
She has no hold on these people.
And my heart is racing, my eyes red with bloodlust. Aramis stands at one shoulder and fights off those who dare to face us, and Sten at the other, Florian at my back. My friends, the finest warriors in the Alpha Worlds, soon to reclaim the home that was stolen from us.
Soon, we’re face to face with Lamia’s last line of defense. These are the soldiers she’s saved to guard her–even a few Hyperborean magisters, though I don’t think they came from Borealis. These are lower level Boreans, younger, less seasoned.
I’ve killed opponents more skilled than these vampires.
“Stand down,” I demand, rearing my antlers back and flicking carnage from my hands and axe. “Or we will make a path of your corpses on our way into the palace.”
“You have no right to Homeworld’s throne,” the closest magister says—a young Borean with a shock of white hair, his skin not yet ashen like those who have been drinking Elixir for years. Of course, he’s probably centuries old…but that’s immature for his kind, and probably why Lamia has such control of him. “Your prince is not legitimate, nor is the girl he stole from Earth.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “The people of Homeworld will no longer tolerate a ruler who exploits them and their planet. We have returned toend Lamia’s tyranny.”
“You and your allies will burn for this,” the Hyperborean says. “We’ll see to it.”
“Only if you live,” I say, lowering my antlers. “And I don’t believe you’re going to get out of this alive.”
And then I spin my axe and charge.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
NEREUS
“We’ve lost comm connection with Fiona,” Kye announces. “She’s gone.”
We coast around the palace, deeper down the shell of the massive nautilus, into the bowels of the planet. Massive invertebrates stream past the windows, the dark so intense that it’s black like squid ink.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
“We wait,” Taln says. “I can feel Ryker…he’s still in danger, but back on his feet at least.”
“Me too,” I say. “But I can’t feel Fiona, and I don’t know why. Or Orion, for that matter.”
“We have to believe they’re safe,” Kye says, though his jaw tenses as he speaks. “I’m going to try to dive deep enough that we can reach them again, but at this point, the mission is in the hands of the Hunt. We have no choice but to trust her.”
I wince. “I hate this.”
Kye nods. “Same, but at least we managed to destroy most of her fleet…or they turned around and ran.”
“We’re going to have work to do getting rid of her allies when we’re victorious,” Taln says. “There are still holdouts across the planet—in Charybdis, Nayades, Setna…”
“We can think about that later,” Kye says. “Right now, we need to keep an eye out for enemies and just…well, try to get some rest, I guess.”
