The Fallen Legacies (Lorien Legacies: The Lost Files #3)(24)

I approach the hut cautiously. The last thing I need is to spook Hannu and his Cêpan. If he’s anything like Conrad Hoyle, Hannu’s Cêpan might emerge from that hut with guns blazing.

I stop, stiffening, the hair on the back of my neck rising. Footsteps are crashing through the jungle behind me. I break out in a cold sweat despite the African heat.

I turn to see Ivan emerging from the jungle. In the moonlight, I see a trickle of sweat roll down his cheek, his face contorted in a humorless smile.

“Clever Adamus,” he sneers, “thought you’d get away with this.”

He’s on to me.

“With what?” I ask, stalling.

I glance over my shoulder at the hut. There’s no movement inside, the sounds Ivan and I are making drowned out by the jungle. I’ll stop Ivan if I have to, but I hope it won’t come to that. Maybe I can still talk my way out of this.

I walk back towards the edge of the clearing, standing inches away from Ivan.

“Get out of here, Ivan,” I say, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

He snorts, disbelieving. “What? And let you try to steal all the glory? You’ll probably freeze up again.”

And then I realize what dim-witted Ivan thinks I’m doing out here. He doesn’t think I’ve come to warn Hannu; such treason isn’t even a possibility to him. Ivan thinks I’ve come to capture or kill Hannu myself, just like he assumed I did with Number Two.

“You didn’t even bring any weapons,” Ivan observes mockingly. “Are you going to talk the Loric to death?”

He’s right. I came unarmed, hoping it would help convince Hannu to trust me. Also, I never intended to actually fight my people, only evade them. I hoped that violence could be avoided.

With speed that surprises Ivan, I snake my hand forward and rip the dagger off his belt. His jaw drops when I hurl the weapon into the jungle.

“Adamus,” he exclaims, sounding hurt, like a kid who’s had his favorite toy broken. “What the hell? You better help me look for that.”

I grab Ivan by the front of his shirt and put my face in his. He’s surprised again, not used to being manhandled. I stare into his eyes, trying to reach him. I know it’s crazy, but Ivan used to be my best friend, despite everything. I have to believe that he’ll still listen to me.

“Why do this?” I ask. “Killing them won’t heal our planet. It won’t lead to Mogadorian progress. It’ll only lead to more killing. More life wasted. Is that what you want?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Adamus?”

He stares at me, dumbfounded. I shake him.

“We don’t always get along,” I continue, “but you’re like a brother to me. You trust me, don’t you?”

Mutely, Ivan nods his head.

“Then trust me when I tell you that everything we’ve been told is wrong,” I say desperately. “Our cause is unjust, Ivan. We can change that. You can help me work towards—toward real Mogadorian progress.”

I can see him trying to make sense of my words, confusion on his face. He looks away from me, over my shoulder, to the hut where Hannu and his Cêpan sleep. For a moment I allow myself to think that I’ve gotten through to him.

Then he shoves me away. He’s finally realized what I’m up to, and it disgusts him.

“I always knew you were weak, Adamus,” hisses Ivan, “but not a traitor too.”

That settles it.

I unclip the communicator from my belt and slam it into the side of Ivan’s face.





CHAPTER 25


I had hoped the blow would knock Ivan out. I should’ve known better.

Ivan is back on his feet before I can create some distance between us. He doesn’t even register the trickle of blood from the cut I made above his eyebrow. That dead look I’ve seen in his eyes during a dozen training sessions comes on, and he’s barreling towards me.

Ivan drives his shoulder into my stomach and lifts me, hurling me into a tree. The air explodes out of my lungs in a wet cough. Ivan grabs a handful of my hair and slams my head into the tree. Stars flash across my vision; I struggle to stay conscious.

Desperately, I kick at Ivan, my shin connecting solidly with his groin. He doubles over, retching, and drops me.

I stumble backward, into the jungle, shaking the cobwebs out of my head. Ivan is on me again before I have a chance to regroup, delivering a two-punch combination to my chest, followed by an uppercut that sends me tumbling over a fallen tree trunk. I scuttle backwards on my hands, running my tongue over the gap where my tooth used to be.

“You can do better than that,” says One, sitting cross-legged on the tree trunk.

“Shut up,” I mutter.

Ivan leaps onto the tree trunk, standing above me. He points over his shoulder, a wild look in his eyes.

“You want to fight me for them?” he snarls. “For some Loric trash? You’re choosing them over us?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can die with them!”

Ivan jumps off the log, intending to stomp my face. I roll away at the last moment, kicking him in the side of the knee as he lands. I hear something snap inside Ivan’s leg, and he howls with pain.

I scramble to my feet. Center myself, regain my balance. Ivan lunges towards me, now limping slightly, but this time I’m ready for him. I deflect his punches—all straight ahead, angrily telegraphed—using his own momentum and speed against him. It’s something I never tried in our sparring sessions, but it’s exactly what Hilde had been teaching Number One.