Page 63 of Twins for the Barbarians

“Helios…Kharo…”

“Please, Alicia…Go…” I fear these might be my last words.

I have no strength left to say anything else. Relief washes over me as I watch her get up and run straight for the doors, joined by dozens of Kreek warriors and a handful of surviving king’s guards. The hallway is filled with blue mist, and my eyes close ever so slowly.

Is this it?

Is this where it ends?

I only had a moment of joy when I heard I’d be a father someday. Alicia is carrying our children, twins. Like the twin suns of Sunna, like the twin souls destined to be with one woman. There was always sense in our tradition despite Solomon’s dismay and contempt. There was always a reason behind the coupling of two men with one wife. There was always sense in this world…it’s a shame a black-hearted beast like Solomon Daron couldn’t cope with his own inadequacies and decided to take it out on the rest of us.

Sunna did not deserve this genocide.

It didn’t deserve the disease and the war that followed, the violence, the suffering, the misery. The people of Opal City didn’t deserve to be lied to, either. I hear Helios heaving beside me. He’s trying to get up but failing with each attempt.

I fear this is where the lights go out.

I would’ve enjoyed a life with Helios and Alicia, watching our children grow up in the golden light of morning, in the heat of our simmering volcanoes, smiling hopefully as they gazed toward a better future, toward peace and prosperity. I would’ve wanted to see the Sky Tribe renouncing their wicked ways and shaking hands with the Fire Tribe. If Solomon succeeds, his second plague will find Cynthia, Amber, and Jewel. It will kill them. It will kill Alicia, too.

And it will kill any other human Shaytan will bring from Earth.

No matter how we look at it, only death and failure await at the end of this line.

30

Alicia

There’s no way in hell I’m letting Solomon get away with this.

The rage in my soul won’t let me walk away, and I know where that fucker is going: his old laboratory up on Kaos Volcano, his lair. That’s where he intends to finish his work and unleash yet another deadly virus upon the world. It’ll render the Sky Tribe’s efforts utterly meaningless since the virus will be designed to attack the human genes, as well.

I cannot let all these deaths be in vain.

Not Kingo’s. Not Kharo’s or Helios’ either. Oh, God, I had to leave them behind. I don’t know how they’ll survive. Tears roll down my cheeks as I run as fast as I can, hoping the Kreek soldiers might’ve had the sense to drag my soulmates out of the palace before the blue mist killed them. It’s all I can do as I struggle to focus on what’s ahead.

I dart up the alley leading west, running past scuffles and confused people, soldiers scrambling, and Kreek fighters combing the streets and shooting every hostile in sight. The carnage is unsightly. I feel sorry for the people of Opal City. None of this is their fault, but I can’t spare a single second to explain anything to anybody. Why would they even listen to me? I’m a weird-looking creature from outer space, loose in their city and crying my heart out as I try to catch up with their precious king so I can kill him before he kills all of us.

It sounds insane.

But it’s my reality. Helios and Kharo sacrificed themselves so that I might live. I cannot live unless Solomon dies. It’s the only way.

Leaving the skirmishes behind, the bursting of bombs and hissing of laser weapons, the wailing of dying men, and the screams of terrified women, I make my way up the same road I followed when Leela led Kingo and me to Kaos a few days ago. I follow that path, relentless despite my burning lungs, determined to see this through to the end.

My unborn children deserve a chance at life, and Solomon cannot be allowed to play God anymore.

I look up and see the bastard climbing up the stony pathway snaking along the obsidian ridge, vials and beakers clinking in his shoulder bag, and the bottom of his red silk robe torn by the difficult trek. Desperation and ego drive him, and he’s not as spry as he used to be. I’m about to catch up with the fucker, and I managed to snatch a knife off one of the many dead soldiers I jumped over outside the palace.

Gripping its bone handle tightly, I shout after my nemesis. “Solomon, you spineless piece of shit! Stop right there!”

He ignores me, panting as he reaches the narrow road at the end of which Kaos Town stands, with its abandoned houses and layers of undisturbed ash from previous volcanic activity. Far above, the peak glimmers orange. The ground rumbles beneath my feet. Lava must be working its way through, slowly bubbling toward the surface. I don’t know where this strength is coming from, but I keep going. The adrenaline courses through my veins, setting each gear in motion as I finally catch up with Solomon in the middle of the town square.

“It’s too late!” I say, out of breath.

Solomon stumbles and falls to his knees. The bag hits the ground, and beakers and vials splinter. Their contents spill across the red dirt, and he desperately tries to salvage whatever sample he can, trembling fingers scraping the ground. He looks like a mindless fool, his reason long gone.

He snarls. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes, you are,” I say, cautiously approaching him.

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