Doomseeds

by Tam Linsey

  The hunter with the labret rose from his squat and tossed his knife from hand to hand. Although the other hunters remained sitting, they all slid their hands to their weapons. The cave echoed with the sound of rain pounding the earth outside.

  Why would Gid claim Flame Runna flesh was poisonous? And worse, why would Rann deny the claim? Marking Gid a liar would negate the deal they’d made. The Knowing didn’t lie. Their immunity relied upon knowledge, and knowledge required truth.

  Rann capped the bota and slid a glance Jubal’s way, scrunching his lips with one eye squeezed half shut in regret.

  Jubal eased his face into a soothing smile. “Who knows the ways of the Knowing?”

  Footsteps came from his left, hard shoes against the packed dirt floor. He felt Eily’s gaze prickle the back of his neck before she spoke.

  “Sefe shot down a flying machine?”

  The leader stood. “Your slaves don’t know?”

  The hunters followed the leader’s example, weapons in hand, and began to sidle slowly around either side of the fire.

  Jubal scrambled upright, Rann at his side. This is how it will end. He edged the toes of his right foot beneath his staff, hooking it into his hand. The baubles jangled, heightening the tension in the air.

  “Tell me the truth,” Eily persisted.

  The woman didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. If Jubal didn’t show these hunters he was in control, they’d take everything. He spun and grabbed Eily by the throat, propelling her backward to the wall. In a loud voice, he said, “Sit down.”

  She wrapped both hands around his wrist, eyes wide as she gasped for breath, even though he didn’t squeeze nearly as hard as he should have. He shoved her down. Gid and the other Flame Runnas remained crouched, mouths agape, too shocked to defend her. Good. Breathing hard, Jubal pointed his staff at them. “The first one who speaks will regret it.”

  The hunters stopped their advance and now argued with each other across the fire. “The Shaman lied about the flesh. What’s to stop him from lying to us?”

  “He’s Mambabarang. In league with the Flame Runnas. We should kill him.”

  “The traders knew. They lied, too.”

  “Maybe he hexed them.”

  “But why waste good meat?”

  The leader held a hand up to his men. “Perhaps Flame Runna flesh is more valuable than we thought. He’s keeping us from it.”

  Jubal thrust out his chest. “You agreed to take the Shaman as your toll.”

  “He’s Mambabarang. You tricked us.”

  “He’s not evil. His ways are different, but he’s loyal to those he serves.”

  Rann added, “He’s a Flame Runna Shaman. They waste everything. Even their own.”

  The leader took another step forward. Jubal widened his stance, one foot toward the entrance. He could run. Leave the Flame Runnas to their end. Find another way to rescue Pops. But Eily’s terrified face stopped him. Her fate with these hunters would be worse than with Sefe. At least Sefe honored Ana. There was a good chance he’d take care of Eily, too.

  Jubal shook his staff so the noise echoed around the cavern. “We will renegotiate the toll.”

  Rann spoke up, “Sefe says there’s spirit healing in Flame Runna flesh. To eat it makes a man drunk.”

  The leader’s eyes flashed with interest. Jubal pounced on the advantage, pointing to Lisius’s body and infusing his words with exaggerated frustration. “Sefe wants these Flame Runnas alive, but he’ll pay for the flesh, too. Take...” he pretended to consider, “half the flesh in payment and let us be.”

  Drawing himself taller, the leader said, “We will take it all.”

  Relief flooded through Jubal, but he was careful not to show it. He’d go hungry a few more days on the trail, but he’d have enough Flame Runnas to free Pops.

  “And the Shaman,” the leader added, shoulders back, chin high.

  Pulo lurched to his feet. “You can’t take both!”

  Jubal used the butt of his staff to punch Pulo in the gut. He felt as if he’d taken the blow himself. He’d been ready to lose Gid; eager, even. But none of this trade exchange had been smooth. He didn’t want to give these hunters anything. You have no choice. Get out of here so you can save Pops. “Bah! Trading in Flame Runnas is proving to be more hazard than profit. Take your toll and be done with it.”

  He stalked past the nearest hunter, limbs stiff, and jerked up both his and Rann’s packs. “Rann, tie the slaves. We’re going. Now.”

  A keening rose from Eily, and she wrapped her arms around Gid. Rann stowed his bota with a grin and started straight for the woman.

  “Pulo first,” Jubal commanded, hoping to give Eily a chance to say goodbye.

  Rann’s grin became a grimace, but he did as he was told. Eily continued to moan. Gid, his face pale as ashes, remained exactly as he’d been, crouched over Lisius’s body. He murmured foreign words of comfort to Eily. Wint had backed completely out of the cave, but his shadow remained visible on the other side of the falling water—there was nowhere for a lone man to escape to on the Tox.

  Jubal held a hand out to Eily. Gid looked up at him, his blue eyes burning. “Take her to her sister.”

  A guilty pang lanced Jubal’s heart. Eily wanted to save her sister, just like he wanted to save Pops. Gid had been caught in the middle. But Jubal couldn’t change that now.

  Gid rose, drawing Eily upright before prying her hands from him and guiding her toward Jubal. Her face glistened with tears, her shoulders trembling violently as she clutched at Gid’s arms and hands.

  “Eily, nicht. Don’t.” Gid’s voice was soft, coaxing.

  She lifted her chin to look at her man, then twisted to Jubal. “Please. We can’t leave him with them. He doesn’t speak Cannibal.”

  Jubal swallowed past a lump in his throat, shaking his head. “The deal is done.”

  At the entrance, Rann was ushering a bound Pulo, loaded with both his own and Eily’s packs, through the curtain of water. The hunters remained vigilant near the fire, gazes hungry.

  On impulse, Jubal unstrapped a full bota of bitters from his pack and thrust it toward Gid. He looked square at the leader. “This belongs to the Shaman.”

  The hunter scowled but dropped his chin sharply in acquiescence.

  Jubal turned back to Gid, unsure what to say.

  The man wrapped his fist around the bota’s carry-strap, knuckles white. “You keep Eily safe. Please.”

  A shiver chased up Jubal’s spine and down his limbs. He stepped back, light headed, and found himself nodding.

  Gid took Eily’s face between his hands and kissed her forehead. “Geh mit Gott.”

  Then he guided her into Jubal’s grasp. As Jubal pushed her toward the exit, she covered the spot of Gid’s kiss with one hand, as if to keep it from washing away in the deluge.

  Haldanian Protectorate

  The Com Ops building sat on a dome of earth at the northern edge of the city, its unobscured view of the Burn infused with the orange light of the setting sun. Rael stood with his back to the communication specialist and gazed at the radiant clouds to the northwest, savoring the hint of fresh rain brought in on the air circulation system. The storm had disrupted several feeds, including the GPS implants on the reversions.

  “I still can’t get a lock on the third transmitter,” said the specialist. His computers made soft pipping noises as he adjusted the tracking systems. “They probably took shelter during the storm. If they’re in a cave, the signal may be blocked.”

  Rael turned to watch the multicolored lights from the monitors dance across the tech’s features. The nanotransmitters they’d installed in the three reversions were kinetically powered, fueled by the flow of blood. Once blood flow stopped, they could transmit for about twenty-four hours on power reserves. But extreme heat—like cooking—would completely disable all systems. “Or he could be in a cannibal’s stomach.”

  The specialist nodded, tapping a finger against his lips as he scanned the
screens. “Impossible to tell, since the storm scrambled the signals. Once they start moving in the morning, we’ll have a better guess.”

  Rael paced to the eastern view, watching the first stars materialize on the horizon. If the group had reached its destination and the cannibals were killing and eating the reversions rather than taking them to the Fosselites, his plan would have been for nothing. The Fosselites needed the reversions alive. “I want to send an all-frequency alert.”

  “Sir, all Burn Ops teams have reported back to base for the night. There’s no one in the Reaches.” The specialist furrowed his brow, his eyes leaving his screens for the first time all night.

  “Just do it.” The emergency com system was intended to reach all dusters on duty to warn of incoming blow-outs or to alert them to escaped reversions. It was how the Protectorate had made first contact with the Fosselites. With night coming on, the Fosselites might be tempted to leave their mountain, given the right bait.

  The specialist input some commands and handed Rael a mike. “You want it live?”

  Rael nodded. He held the unit up and waited for the specialist to nod before speaking. “All units, emergency Romeo Echo Victor One. Three convicted reversions located at following coordinates.” He twitched his fingers at the specialist to code in the data. “Lethal force authorized. Proceed with base camp procedures and move at first light. Priority one.”

  He set the mike down. “Set that on repeat for the next hour. And send hourly updates on the transmitter locations to my personal gamma pad.”

  The specialist scratched his head. “Yes, sir. You do realize the Fosselites are the only ones likely to pick up on our signal?”

  Rael didn’t turn around as he passed through the door. “I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Tox

  The ache of loss threatened to double Eily over, and she could hardly lift her feet out of the mud to take another step. Ahead of her, Wint and Pulo struggled to keep their balance with bound wrists and loaded packs. Gid’s name rolled across her thoughts over and over, echoed by the deep-throated thunder rolling farther and farther west. How could she have been so wrong about everything? As the heavens exchanged the dark of the storm for the blackness of night, rain continued to wash away her tears.

  They halted at a swollen creek, and she collapsed to the wet earth. Pulo and Wint crouched on either side of her. Eily flinched away from the heat of their bodies. She’d brought them to this end. If she hadn’t agreed to Ijon’s plan, they might at least be free together on the Tox. It was all her fault for trusting the traders. Was this what Tula had feared all along, wishing her not to go?

  Rann’s voice cut through the murky darkness. “Tie them together?”

  Jubal’s voice sounded hoarse and tired. “I suppose we have to. I’ll do it.”

  She felt as much as saw him as he reached for her wrists. His touch was gentle, but the rough cattail fibers of the rope stung her rain-soaked skin. From deep inside, she found her voice. “You broke the trade laws, Jubal. Why betray us?”

  His hands trembled as he tied her. “You were going to call the Flame Runnas.”

  Her insides knotted. She jerked against the rope, forcing Jubal to catch her hands again. “I didn’t betray you. I gave you the beacon. You dishonored the trade. The Holdout will never buy or sell with you again.”

  “I have no need to trade with Flame Runnas,” he said through gritted teeth.

  She set her jaw. She’d believed Jubal held her in some esteem, even if his brother didn’t. Obviously she was nothing more than another Flame Runna. But she couldn’t allow his scorn to hurt her. “Other traders will spread word of your treachery to the tribes. You’ll be discredited everywhere.”

  He twisted the rope into a knot and looped it through the tethers on Pulo and Wint. “I have no choice. I have to save my father.”

  Where she’d detected scorn before, his words now seemed to hold regret. The rain slackened, and a sliver of moonlight poked through the wispy clouds. Maybe he really wasn’t a slaver. Maybe she could still talk him out of this course of action. “I told you the Holdout would shelter your father. Take him there.”

  “Sefe’s holding him ransom until we replace the escaped Flame Runna,” Jubal said. “We need you to get him back.”

  “If he’s not already dead,” Rann added.

  Jubal dropped her hands and squelched through the mud back toward his brother. “If he is, it’s your fault. This whole rotting thing is your fault. First you free Sefe’s Flame Runna, then run your big mouth in front of hunters.”

  Eily tried to sort out what they were talking about. “Wait, did Rann try to free Ana?”

  Jubal answered, “Another prisoner. One from the flying machine.”

  Rann yelled, “I didn’t free her! I keep telling you that!”

  As the brothers continued to argue, a plan took shape in her mind. The cannibals were hunting dusters. Hunting Flame Runnas. All deals were off. She had to do whatever it took to free her sister. The fastest way was to get the beacon back. She only needed it long enough to push the button and could probably even do it without the traders realizing what she’d done. All she needed was a kiss. Rann had been asking for one since before they’d left the holdout, but she knew he wouldn’t stop there. She shuddered. What did it matter? Gid was gone. Who was she saving herself for? If she could, she’d seduce Jubal. But that left Rann. She’d have to kiss them both. Probably more. Her skin crawled at the thought of Rann’s touch. Ana would do it for you.

  She let out a steadying breath. She’d need to begin slow, as if she were getting used to the idea of being a slave. Give them time to let their guard down. How close to the Taguan were they? It wouldn’t do to use the beacon too soon. She had to make sure she was close enough to rescue Ana before alerting the Protectorate.

  Jubal cut off his brother’s argument with a warning that they were still within range of the hunters. Rann’s huffing breath filled the humid air with the weight of his anger.

  Eily ventured a quiet question. “How long until we reach the Taguan?”

  “You can’t escape,” Rann answered sharply.

  She swallowed, and allowed her voice to tremble a little. “Does Sefe really treat Ana as well as you said?”

  Jubal answered this time. “He might keep you as a pair, if that’s what you’re asking. But he does need some Flame Runnas to trade to the Blood Eye.”

  His words slammed into her. Unexpected memories kept her reeling. Men’s faces assessing her through helmet visors, the whites of their eyes red as blood. Needles and tubes and excruciating concentrations of light. She stuttered, “B-blood Eye? You mean the Fosselites?”

  Wint whispered next to her, words choked with dread, “They’ve found a new way to harvest Haldanians.”

  Eily wriggled upright to her knees. Pulo and Wint’s rope drew tight as they struggled to sit beside her. She wouldn’t go back to the Fosselites. Couldn’t. She’d kill herself first.

  But this was bigger than her personal safety. The Fosselites would use the cannibal tribes to destroy the Holdout without a single regret. The people there would die, and the converts would endure unthinkable torture at Fosselite hands. Most converts at the holdout were little more than children. “We have to warn the Protectorate!”

  Rann laughed in the darkness. “They already know.”

  She twisted her wrists as if she might free herself but only succeeded in causing more pain. “Ijon wouldn’t send us out here if they knew.”

  Jubal answered. “He’s the one who told us. You didn’t know?”

  She froze, her thoughts spinning. “But why would he...” She covered her mouth with her bound hands, the scent of mud filling her nose. “Oh, God. The beacon.”

  “What?” Pulo said.

  “You have a beacon?” Wint said. “Why didn’t you call for help?”

  “Shhh,” she said, trying to think. Just as she’d feared, the Protectorate was tracking the beacon. Bu
t why had they insisted she bring the reversions? She could have carried the beacon alone, and she would have done so gladly if she’d known the Fosselites were involved. The reversions are bait.

  The Protectorate didn’t just want the armed cannibals. They wanted the Fosselites to come out of hiding. A huge weight settled into her gut. The bottle of allelopathic suppression pills Tula had sent made sense now. The pills were old technology, once used by Burn Operatives during UV exposure in order to limit the effects of alkaloids in the bloodstream. The discovery of the telomerase fungi had all but eliminated the need for the pills. Unless someone expected to undergo unusually intense UV radiation.

  Like Fosselite lights.

  Eily choked on all these realizations. Tula had known. The Council had likely forbidden her to say anything. So she’d tried to warn Eily with the pills.

  The moon, nearly half full, broke free of the clouds, cutting shadows across the camp. “Wint, what did Councilman Rael ask you to do once you reached the cannibals?”

  “Nothing. He pulled me out of jail, sent me for a conversion treatment, and then delivered me to the Gate.”

  Jubal interrupted, “Time to sleep. Everyone quiet.”

  Pulo lowered his voice but only a little. “You were in jail?”

  “Stole a skimmer,” Wint whispered.

  “Nice.”

  Rann spoke up, “We said no talking.”

  Eily ignored him. If she activated the beacon before reaching the Taguan, would the Protectorate even come? Or would they wait until the Fosselites arrived? She needed some answers before she did anything stupid. “I think the Protectorate is using us as bait. When the Fosselites arrive to collect us, they’ll attack. Are you sure no one back home asked you to do anything? Or you, Pulo?”

  Pulo shrugged. “Nope, just said I’d had one too many fights.”

  Rann said, “We should separate them.”

  “But the Fosselites never leave their cave,” Wint whispered.

  More memories flooded Eily’s mind, of searchlights and the beat of Fosselite copter rotors. Of fleeing blind through darkness and hiding in holes. Her words strained against her throat. “They will at night.”