The right knife sank into her shoulder, and Lecass twisted it to maximize the damage. It took everything Jael had to stay in his chair. This is her fight. Beside him, the big man was pale, both hands clenched on his knees. Dred still didn’t cry out. Despite the wounds she’d taken, she fought in silence. This time she fell back, and with her eyes on Lecass, she pulled the blade out of the wound and threw it out of the ring, where it spattered her blood onto the floor.
Lose something, ass**le?
All around, convicts roared with approval at the deliberate challenge. The nonchalance of the gesture enraged her opponent; he snarled as he ran at her, the remaining knife in his right hand. She’d lost reaction speed, though, along with blood, so her spin this time was clumsy, and she didn’t have complete range of motion in her injured shoulder.
Finish him, Jael urged silently.
Dred must’ve realized she didn’t have a lot more fuel in the tank. She stepped up her game, unleashing a one-handed assault. The chains lent weight to her strikes; she pummeled Lecass until he was reeling, then she spun a kick, putting all her force behind it. He fell back enough to avoid the full impact. The move left her open to a counterstrike; his blade opened her stomach. Jael’s heart surged into his throat.
That’s it; she’s done.
To his astonishment, she fought on. The pain staggered her visibly, but her resolve was apparent to everyone in the room. She wouldn’t go down. Each move she made telegraphed her determination as if she were shouting it—the only way I leave this ring is feetfirst. A chill ran through him as someone started chanting:
“Dread Queen! Dread Queen!”
Lecass heard it as well, and he hesitated. Apparently it hadn’t occurred to him that he wasn’t the crowd favorite. She drew strength from her supporters and went at the bastard again. He slipped in her blood, stumbled back, and Dred slammed both fists into his head. He went down and she kept up the onslaught. By the time she raised her chained fists, they were bloody, and she was . . . well, dying. He could tell by the color of her skin, the clammy cast to her features. In all honesty, Jael had no idea how she was still on her feet.
“We have to get her out of there,” Einar said.
Tam grabbed the big man’s arm. “No. She has to make it out on her own. Otherwise, this challenge proves nothing.”
Swaying, Dred took Lecass’s knife and cut his throat. Then Calypso shouted, “Winner! The Dread Queen has defeated her challenger.”
A ferocious cheer erupted from the crowd, and the men moved the tables to clear a path for her. Nobody touched her as she stepped out of the ring, each step a testament to her indomitable will. Jael surged to his feet, and Tam held him back.
“Let her finish this. We’ll tend to her after.”
Dred left a blood trail as she passed the men; the chanting continued until she left the hall. Only then did Tam release his grip, and the three of them sped after her. By the time they got to her quarters, she’d collapsed, and there was no rousing her. With wounds to her side, shoulder, and stomach, no surgeon on hand, no blood transfusions, there was only one way to save her, but he couldn’t do it in front of Tam and Einar. He didn’t trust either man fully. Hell, he didn’t trust anyone fully. Jael only knew that after a fight like that one, he couldn’t let her die.
“Mary curse it,” Einar swore. “Lecass is dead, but she’s not going to make it either.”
Tam bent over her, checking her vitals. Then the spymaster shook his head, sorrow written clearly on his fine features. “It’s just a matter of time now. I’ll check in storage to see if we have any pain medication. That’s all we can do.”
“No,” Jael said. The lie that came next was necessary. “I have some training, but I can’t have either of you in the room while I work on her. If you want me to save her, leave now.”
Both Tam and Einar vacated without another word.
25
Red Haze of Pain
“Do you think he can save her?” Einar demanded of Tam.
He lifted a shoulder, shrugging. “I hope so. Without her, I’m not sure if the alliance with Silence will hold.”
“That’s what you care about?” the big man snarled.
Tam sidestepped the punch, so that it slammed hard into the wall beside him. “I care about her, too. But it’s pointless to yield to worry when there are more pressing concerns.”
“You’re an icy bastard.”
Tam didn’t deny the charge. He’d heard worse. “I know you won’t budge until she’s better, so pull up a chair. You can guard the door, send for anything Jael needs.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Queensland won’t run itself in her absence,” he said quietly. “There’s work to be done to be sure there’s a sector left to her when she’s better.”
“Thanks for saying ‘when.’”
Tam slipped away without replying. He spoke to a number of people, assuring them that the Dread Queen would recover fully. He gave the story he wanted repeated, word for word, and soon enough, the news was making the rounds. Men were drinking, toasting her victory. In fact, the din in the hall was deafening.
As he was trying to duck out, Calypso cornered him. “I saw that gaping wound in her gut. Tell me another story, little man. Like how she’s really doing?”
“I believe she’ll make a full recovery.” Jael better be able to achieve the impossible; otherwise, all of Queensland would end up dead, chained in one of Priest’s torture rooms or slaving for the Great Bear. In conflicts like this one, there could be no surrender, no merciful terms or treaties to sign. Anything but complete annihilation was unacceptable to their enemies.
Therefore, he had to finish what he’d started.
He was careful to lead anyone who might be trailing him on a wild-goose chase. It seemed as if Lecass’s followers had been discouraged with his death. If not, then they were incredibly stupid, but it was best to take precautions nonetheless. His path carried him through the corridors in Queensland before he doubled back and entered the ducts at last.
From there, he went straight down to the bowels of the ship.
This part of Perdition held a musky smell, not unpleasant, but an interesting amalgam of odors, likely created by so many aliens living in close quarters. Though it didn’t compare to Queensland for space or resources, Tam would judge the Warren the second-best accommodations on the vessel. As promised during his last visit, an envoy awaited him, the same creature he’d rescued not so long ago. Her name was Keelah, and she’d claimed to be . . . precious to the leader of the Warren. That had been a harrowing trip, as he feared the injured female would die before they reached her people. His arrival with her had caused tremendous commotion, ending in a grudging offer of hospitality, then the subsequent conversation had been . . . enlightening.