Conquest Rising by Eli Celata

Author:Eli Celata [Celata, Eli]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hidden Helm Press
Published: 2020-01-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Once again without a clock, time dragged on immeasurable with only Death’s rare visits to break up the monotony. Death shimmered by her bedside. The vapors around his legs coalesced as soon as the door opened to reveal his leader. Each time, he forced her to stand. They walked the length of the room, and in the gaps when he wasn’t, she stretched, gritting through the painful stretching of her new skin and reconnected muscle.

Sitting with her feet over the edge of the bed, Kat glared at Death. “Is Rachel still alive?”

Death didn’t answer, but his master did. “For now,” the dictator informed her, standing at the door. Stepping into the room, he asked, “Can you move to the chair?”

Though his quicksilver eyes concentrated on her with a forced patience, his fingers drummed against the back of the chair. Kat slid off the bed. Her sock feet pressed against the cold metal, sending a chill up her spine. Walking hadn’t proved any more difficult than before. After the first few hours, the pain faded. All that remained of her near-death experience was tautness in her abdomen and face. While there were no mirrors in the room, the tug every time she moved her lips told her that her expressions were lopsided. Death never approached the subject. A weapon didn’t need expressions after all. Sitting in the chair, she glared up at Mah-Wærm - taking advantage of the oddity in her facial muscles to smirk.

“I can also kick people in the shins. Want to see?” The smirk fell into a frown when Death grabbed her shoulder and pulled her further back in the seat. “Lobotomy time?”

“No. Your mind will do fine for now,” Man-Wærm assured her.

With a twirl, he walked away, and the floor sprung to life, rolling beneath her like a conveyor belt. Death remained behind her. His hand rested heavily on her shoulder, holding her in place as they left the room. Outside the door, two Tweedles stood guard. Neither seemed particularly pleased to be there, and when Mah-Wærm headed off to the right, they ducked away to the left. Their fear and frustration left a metallic bitterness in Kat’s mouth.

Furrowing her brows, she ran her tongue along her bottom teeth. The taste waned the further they moved, but a different sensation trembled in her bones - Mah-Wærm’s impatience and Death’s resignation.

“Where are we going?” Kat asked, forcing the question even when Death’s grip tightened.

“The fighting ring,” Mah-Wærm replied. “Should be over quickly. Not nearly as exciting as I’d hoped.”

“Sorry your soldier mauled me,” Kat drawled.

With a cluck of his tongue, he curtly informed her, “Apology not accepted.”

“Why not set Rachel against Chelsea instead?” Kat suggested.

Neither would want to harm one another, so their combat would be mainly avoiding each other. Eventually, however, Rachel would attack Chelsea. Not because of a desire to kill her, but a number of grudges brewed between the two, and while neither enjoyed aggressive conflict, they’d had their share of passive aggressive stand-offs during the Academy.

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