Page 11 of Broken Triad

“Get us out of here!” yells Ra’al, and I activate the Reaver’s engines, punching out through the hangar bay.

I glance down at the wreckage of the warship. Kriz got the shields up at the last moment, putting all power to the front of the ship, so the Matador is half buried in the ground, smoking, and I spot three different fires.

Already the Orb-Guns are lancing out. No one abandoned their post. Many were crushed on the impact, but others must be taking their place, manning the weapons and providing heavy fire, cutting down Org-Ships as they fall from the sky.

The air is thick with the huge, flaming sacks of organic matter. I’ve never seen so many.

Did my Mate look up, and see this same sight before she died?

I snarl to myself, wishing that it was Aurelians we were up against, and not mindless Scorp, but I have a duty to do. I pilot us towards the huge capital city, a sprawling, tight-packed city filled with tall buildings with the greatest concentration of life on the planet. That is where the Scorp will be drawn to, and I see them already, hordes of the monsters rushing towards it, their green scales dully reflecting the sun.

Ra’al pulls himself next to me, and points south of the city, towards the hills, where there are many large estates.

“There.”

I turn the Reaver, not asking why, not caring, as he orders me to pilot towards a manor that has hundreds of Scorp running towards it. From the towers, guns are firing out. So whoever was left behind is fighting back. Fools. Their gunfire will only draw more of the beasts towards them.

The Orb in the hilt of my blade is glowing, filled with bloodlust that will soon be sated, but I know it, like me, will not be content until the Emperor triad’s heart-blood stains the black metal of my weapon.

Cutting down Scorp is nothing but a duty, like swatting flies, only these flies can rip you apart if you lose your focus for a millisecond.

5

LOLA

The crack of rifles intensifies, and I know what it means. The Scorp have found us.

I tried to convince Rachel. It was no use. No matter how many the three of them cut down, more will come, and their bravery is damning us.

“Everyone, keep quiet, and don’t move,” I hiss out in a low whisper, and servants sit at the back of the cellar, some clutching their legs to their chests and burying their heads. Letty is standing, shaking, her back to the wall.

I put my ear to the door, waiting. I filter out the useless noise. The heavy breathing of panicked people. The klaxon of the alarms, the blasting of anti-air batteries, the crack of rifles, when I hear it, the sound I am terrified of, the sound that makes dread pool in my stomach and a cold shiver run through my spine.

The scratching of claws against stone. A Scorp. A big one. No—at least two of them, that got over the walls. They’re coming towards us.

The sound gets louder, and Letty screams. I run back to her, putting my hand over her mouth and wrestle her to the ground, but the scratches stop, the claws of the Scorp no longer moving. I can picture them, standing, their heads cocked towards the sound, their maws sucking in air, tasting for the scent of life.

Letty is panting against my hand as I pull her tight against me. The Scorp barrel towards us, their footsteps right above, thumping as they search for the way down. Claws scrape against the stone at the top of the stairs, and I pull my hand from Letty’s mouth, standing. It’s too late. She’s hyperventilating, but the Scorp have already locked onto our position. Scrape after scrape, claws dragging against each stair as the first monster stalks down towards us.

Then there is silence. It is paused in front of the door, the only thing separating us from death. It breathes in, a raspy, whistling breath through its circular maw.

We freeze, petrified, when it slams its claw against the wall, the huge crash echoing as the hard green claw shears through the oak.

The claw is a dull, metallic green, spotted with grey from age, and it opens up a hole the size of a grapefruit in the wood. The claw retracts.

Then a blood-red eye presses against the hole as the Scorp stares in at us.

I grab my knife, willing my body to move forward, willing myself to take my one chance to stab it straight through the eye and into its brain, when the eye pulls back. I’m in the center of the room, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. Someone’s praying behind me. It doesn’t matter anymore—we’ve already been heard.

The tail darts through the hole fast as a whip. It’s like a green, twisted rope, and the barbed tip is longer than my knife, dripping venom on the floor as it flails wildly, scratching against the floor, clattering against the walls, knocking the bucket over. It spins in front of me, and I duck, pressing back, the barbed tip whistling over my head as I get out of range, knowing how close I was to being filled with the agonizing venom.

There’s a steady dripping as someone pisses themselves, and the tail pulls back again. I stand, in front of the other women, knowing I won’t be able to stop it for more than a second, knowing I have to try, when the huge monster slams its shoulder against the door. It creaks against the metal hinges. Then it uses its claws, splintering the wood, and it makes a big enough hole to pull its head and upper body through.

It's huge. It has a head with bright red eyes and a gaping maw filled with thin, sharp teeth, and its torso is covered with scales, like a crocodile. It’s two huge claws scratch into the stone floor, so sharp and strong they can dig through the stone itself, and it pulls itself into the room, making the spacious cellar feel claustrophobic as it stands on muscled legs that look almost too human, with clawed feet that rake against the stone. It reaches forward with its claws, and I dart out with my knife, but it just glances off its claws as it wraps them around me.

I’m petrified. With the tiniest movement, it can shear me in half…

But Scorp like to drag their prey back alive, to be filled with eggs from its Queen, so that the young burst from your still living flesh, eating you from the inside. The huge claws wrap around me almost gently, like a hunting dog bringing a wounded bird back to its master.

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