The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [234]
“Go, Travis,” she said as she reached him.
Shouts rang out now along with footsteps. The wounded guard groped for his gun, but Jace kicked it away.
Travis stared at Jace. “More guards are coming. You can't stop them all.”
She slammed a new magazine into her pistol. “Maybe not, but I can hold them off for a while. Those stairs will take you down to the primary research area. The gate is there.”
“Oh, Jace . . .”
She looked up at him, her brown eyes solemn. “They were the ones who took Maximilian away from us, Travis. You've got to stop them. Please.”
Pain welled up in his chest. He ached to tell her how sorry he was, and how proud Max would have been of her, but words fled him. All he could do was nod.
Her mouth curved in a wavering smile. “Good-bye, Travis.”
She turned and stood in the doorway, gun before her. Travis launched himself down the staircase. The door closed above him with a boom. Or was it the sound of gunfire? The noise was drowned out by the pounding of his own feet against the metal steps. Jace had sacrificed herself to give him a chance; he wasn't going to waste it.
Travis rounded another corner, then skidded down the last few steps and came to another door. It wasn't locked from this side. He pushed through and found himself at one end of a long corridor.
The corridor was dark, the gloom interrupted only by a small circle of light every ten feet. If this was the main laboratory facility beneath the cathedral, it should have been filled with people. Instead it was empty. He held his breath, but all he heard was the thrum of his own pulse.
Travis started down the corridor, moving between the pools of light. He passed openings that led to rooms and hallways, but this corridor was wider than the others; instinct told him he'd find what he was looking for at the end of it.
Something glowed silver-blue in the dimness ahead. It was hard to be sure, but it looked as if the corridor ended in a larger space. He heard the soft whir of machines. Travis quickened his pace.
A fist shot out of the darkness, punching him in the right kidney. Hard.
The air whooshed out of Travis in an exhalation of pain. He tumbled to the floor and rolled into one of the pools of light. There was a clatter as something hard skittered away from him.
A boot kicked into the circle of light. Travis rolled away, and instead of his skull the boot contacted his right shoulder. There was a crunching noise, and more pain. Travis looked up, but he couldn't see his attacker in the shadows.
“Lir,” he said through clenched teeth.
A faint glow hovered on the air, then dissipated like fog. The rune was feeble; he was too tired. He slipped his hand inside his pocket. It was empty.
“Get him,” snapped a male voice.
Hands shot into the circle of light, groping for Travis's throat. He twisted away from them—then his heart ceased to beat. Ten feet away, lying on the floor in the center of another bright circle, was the iron box that contained Sinfathisar and Krondisar. It was shut.
Travis started to crawl toward the box, but fingers closed around his ankles, yanking him back.
“I've got him.” A woman's voice, shrill and hard. “Tie him up, and gag him, too. This one's words are dangerous.”
Travis looked up, over his shoulder. A figure stepped into the light above him—a man in a blue suit. On the street he might have been unremarkable: just another businessman heading to the office. Except the suit was disheveled, and his close-cropped hair greasy. In his hands was an electrical cord.
“The Pale Ones were right. They said you were here, that you'd try for the gate. They'll be along in a minute. In the meantime, we can have a little fun together.”
Panic shredded Travis's heart. He kicked and bucked against the hands that held him, but they gripped his legs with unnatural strength. The man grinned, pulled the cord taut, and bent over Travis.
“Dur!”
Travis shouted the word, but it was no use without the touch of the Stones. He had no energy of his own left. The man grimaced, staggering for a