I am leading the royal army, flanked by drones and covered by air support. Rath is leading another battalion, and Tyvian another. We have a total of twelve columns of korabi soldiers moving through the city, all converging on Krush’s trash palace.
I could not have known that Krush would attack tonight, but I knew some outburst was inevitable. Krush is out of his mind with the birthing pheromones his mate must be emitting.
“Archers!” a scout shouts a warning.
“SHIELDS!”
My soldiers cast their right arms up, creating a completely impenetrable barrier against the electric arrows raining down on us. Currents crackle and fizz with every strike. We move forward, undeterred.
Krush’s trash palace sprawls across several city blocks, which is why we have deployed every resource at our disposal. We are each racing for the core of the building, where Krush himself is no doubt hiding.
We are rushed by defenders as we breach the garbage gates of Krush's palace. There is one problem when it comes to building with reclaimed materials. They are not fit for the purpose. They splinter beneath the muscular augmented might of our onslaught, becoming shrapnel which embeds itself in the unfortunates who attempt to stop us.
“KRUSH!” I shout his name, knowing my voice will strike terror into him.
“TUSK! IN HERE!”
I hear him shout back to me almost immediately. What a surprise that is. I wonder, briefly, if this has all been some incredibly well-planned trap. If it was, it is too late, we are in the belly of the beast, and there is only one way out.
I follow the sound of Krush's voice with a small number of my platoon. The rest are securing our egress, making sure we will not be cut off if there does happen to be a twist in Krush’s little plot.
The door to the room he is occupying stands slightly open. These are the perfect conditions for an ambush. I keep my weapon raised, ready to unleash deadly force if necessary. It is very possible that behind the door there is a core of soldiers capable of…
“ARRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHEEIIIIIIIEIIII!”
A most inhuman sound emerges from within the chamber. I know that sound. I have heard it nine times before. I lower my weapon and step into the chamber, waving my men to stay back behind me.
The human Jax is lying on the floor, her head propped up on a jacket, the lower part of her body bare. She is almost unrecognizable, her face contorted in severe pain as cramps and contractions ripple through her. I know how it is when a woman is in advanced labor. She is no longer pushing. She is possessed by the need to expel the infant.
“It's not been long enough,” Krush says. He is covered in her blood. "The baby hasn't been in there long enough. This is too soon. He's not ready. She's not ready.”
There is more blood in this room than in any of the other places we have encountered in this bloody battle. The screams are louder, and the tension more desperate. Life is coming into the world with even more chaos and pain than any battleground.
All births are chaotic and turbulent. All of them are matters of life and death, but this one seems to me to be tipping toward the latter very quickly. The infant is still inside the woman, but the blood suggests a hemorrhage, which means that the placenta has detached, which means the baby will not be getting any air or blood supply.
“Please! Tusk!”
Krush is begging me to assist, but it is too late. He started a war that did not need to happen, right at the moment of his mate's greatest weakness. He is an idiot like no other.
“HAUT!” I call for the doctor. “Get me Haut! Now!”
My second in command rushes to do my bidding. "Is someone injured…”
“Get Haut!”
“He’s on the other side of the compound, sir.”
"Get him! I don’t care who dies. Bring him here. Now.”
“Last communication indicated that he's working on Rath. He’s been badly wounded.”
“Rath has been wounded? How badly?”
“I don't know. I do know the augmentations are easily disrupted.”
"So, we have a dying bride, a baby yet to be born, and a wounded king.”
“Yes.”
Many lives hang in the balance. A decision must be made as to who is treated, and who is left to take their chances. I make the decision swiftly.
“Get Haut here now. Rath can wait."
Krush looks at me with an astonished gaze. “You'd choose my son over…"
“Shut up," I growl.
Nine
Margaret
I do not know what chaos is unfolding down in Megaris. I do know that the human city is lit up repeatedly with flashes, and booming sounds which travel across the distance. I am able to observe some of the battle on screens on which the flying machines display their moving pictures.
“Are you alright?”
I turn to see Rath's human mate standing behind me. The question is compassionate. I do not know if the intention is. Our men, such as they are, are both off at war, leaving us hunkered down in this bunker together. I am happy to stay here, but Lyric seems restless, as if she wishes she was part of the action.