Movement behind the corpse startled him. He brought his light to bear, illuminating the closet a little deeper. His light fell upon a single, bloodstained, clawed arm that scratched eagerly at the carpet. Flipping the flashlight beam higher, light reflected off an open maw of razor-sharp teeth.
Gythrun tried to step back, as the creature emitted a guttural, savage growl. A clawed hand flashed out, catching the Avalon at the base of the abdomen, eviscerating the unsuspecting soldier. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet and dropped him unceremoniously atop the canted conference table in a spray of blood and organs.
Roberts, only halfway across the room, stood stupefied, as arterial blood splashed against the near wall. The creature forced its way from the storage closet. It’s enormous size and broad shoulders made it stoop low in its attempt to get free.
The Wyndgaart raised his rifle and fired three times. The rounds slammed into the creature’s gray hide, as it angrily broke free of the doorway, shattering the wooden frame. It didn’t seem to notice the gunshot wounds, as it howled in rage and eyed the soldier across the room.
Turning away, Roberts sprinted toward the window. His bullets ineffective, he knew there was a better chance of survival from a thirty-foot drop to the street than to remain in the conference room. Though he was fast, the beast moved with surprising speed, closing the distance quickly, running on both back feet and knuckles.
Roberts was nearly at the window when the creature caught him, its mouth open wide in a display of foot-long, protruding teeth. It closed its mouth over Roberts’ shoulder with dagger-like teeth, crushing bones and penetrating his heart. Momentum sent his legs flying out before him, while his upper body was held by the monster’s mandibles.
Life faded from the Wyndgaart’s eyes, and he hung limply, suspended in midair. When the beast released the body, it collapsed a few feet from the open window and safety. Reaching out with a clawed hand, it grabbed Roberts’ leg and dragged him away from the window.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Early morning light glistened off the lake on the outskirts of Arcendor. Striking the water’s surface, the sunlight refracted, glinting thousands of sparkles across the glassy plane. Keryn yawned from exhaustion. The water gently lapping against the shore soothed her.
Sleep eluded her for most of the night. Her mind was a whirling mass of thoughts, as she worried about the aerial joust she watched the previous night. The knot in her stomach worsened, leaving her weak and nauseated.
Trying to ignore her queasiness, she stared at the same thing she examined a dozen times since arriving at the lake-the giant, shining, metal pylon dominating the shoreline. Another one stood a few miles away down the shoreline, while a second pair stood like silent guardians on the far shore. Together, they created the four corners of a square around the lake stretching nearly three miles on a side. Concerning their use, she could only wonder.
Despite the black, form-fitting suit she wore, she still shivered against the arctic breeze blowing down from the distant, snow-capped peaks. The other cadets in her class, all similarly dressed, huddled near each other in a meager attempt to warm themselves. The only ones unfazed by the chill were the instructors, who wore heavy coats to block the wind.
Keryn and the others were awakened early that morning by a siren that blasted down the dormitory hall. The sun hadn’t even lit the horizon by the time she dressed in her uniform and hurried outside to join the other bleary-eyed cadets. With little instruction, they were ushered into buses and driven away from town. The shocks on the buses seemed nonexistent, and the constant jostling stole any chance to catch a nap, as they drove down ill-paved roads leading to the lake.
Her black rubber suit was issued once she left the bus. One size fits most, she realized, squeezing into her suit and trying to pull the zipper past the swell of her breasts. It clung uncomfortably tight in the groin and around the chest and seemed an impractical way to fight, especially for someone accustomed to training and fighting in flowing shirts and loose pants. Her only pleasure came in seeing Sasha struggling, as her suit constricted tightly against her wings. Even short Iana picked crudely at the crotch of her own suit, trying to pull it away, as it crept uninvited into areas she preferred it not to visit.
Keryn checked the firearm strapped to her right leg and strange dagger strapped to her left. Pulling the blade from its sheath, she stared at the one-inch nub of blade protruding from the dark rubber hilt. When she pressed a button near the thumb grip, the air around the short blade crackled, as blue light sprang from the hand guard. Nearly one-foot long, the blue blade wavered unsteadily in the air, as if it lacked consistency.
“Is that thing really going to do any damage?” Iana asked, fidgeting with her suit.
“Only one way to find out.” Keryn agilely twisted the knife in her hand. Extending her left arm, she turned her palm upward. The suit reached all the way to her wrist and connected firmly to a pair of lightweight gloves. She lowered the knife until the blade hovered a few inches above her exposed arm.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Iana asked.
“One thing I learned from all my schooling is that you can’t be confident that your weapon will harm an opponent until you know what it’s capable of. Give me a stick, and I can defend myself, but the first time I see the damage it can cause against an unprotected enemy, I’ll finally appreciate it as a weapon.”
She pressed the knife down. The blue blade shimmered, as it passed unhindered through her sleeve. Instantly, the suit contracted, starting at the elbow and all the way down to her fingertips, until it pressed painfully against her skin and constricted blood flow. Her muscles pulled tightly, Keryn’s fingers curled back until her hand was nearly a fist. Groaning with pain and surprise, she was unable to move her arm from the elbow down.
“Congratulations to Cadet Riddell,” Victoria called from the front of the group, watching students experiment with the limits of their suits. “She was the first to learn exactly how your suits operate.”
She waited for conversations to die away and attention be focused on her. “For those of you who aren’t as eager as our young Wyndgaart, let me explain how the suits operate. Within every inch of fabric is sewn hundreds of feet of electrical wiring connected to a series of flexible rods. The rods only minimally limit your movement. Mostly, they just cause discomfort, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered.
“However, when an electrical current is introduced to a specific section of the suit, the rods stiffen and are pulled into alignment. They seize the part of the suit that’s been struck, leaving the individual immobile. You can ask Cadet Riddell just how painful that can be.
“Get struck in a leg, and that leg is useless. Get struck in an arm, and you lose the use of the arm. Get struck in the torso, chest, or neck, and your entire suit seizes up, leaving you immobile until an instructor releases the current coursing through the suit.”
She pressed a button on a remote, and Keryn’s arm relaxed. Pins and needles exploded along her forearm and hand, as blood flow was reestablished.
“Getting used to the suits takes time,” Victoria said.
Many watched Keryn recuperate.
“That’s why you’ll train on the ground for the time being until I feel confident about putting you in the air.”