The Remnant

by Paul B Spence

Can you tell where? The lights were interesting, but like the alien script, they could wait.

  I think so, Hunter replied. Follow me.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  "With McGee gone, who is watching the gate?" Mason asked.

  "Cook and Stevens are both out there right now," Christopher said. "Thanks for reminding me. If you don't mind, I think I'll take them the rest of this pot of tea."

  "Not at all," Bauval said, getting up. "I'll make another pot."

  "Lieutenant," Mason asked, "what do you think his odds are?" They had thus far avoided talking about what was keeping them all awake.

  Christopher frowned. "I don't know, ma'am. I guess it depends on what has been done to him, or did you mean the commander? If so, knowing what I do about Special Operations, I'd say good odds. Tebrey is as tough as they come. He's experienced and has enough equipment to get the job done. I think he'll be fine. I'm just worried that the sergeant may not be alive when he finds him." With that, she picked up the pot and a stack of cups and left.

  Mason sighed.

  "Do you regret coming here?" Bauval asked. His back was turned as he stoked up the small hearth fire so he could boil more water.

  "No, I like the city. It is certainly more comfortable than the dig site was."

  "I meant Cedeforthy."

  "Oh. I'm not sure," Mason said thoughtfully. "We've learned so much more than we ever expected to, but the cost has been so high."

  "That's what I was thinking of. All the people we've lost."

  "I know, but it wasn't your fault. None of it has been."

  "I'm not belittling myself. Nor am I looking for someone to blame. I was just thinking that we hadn't lost anyone since last winter. We had gotten used to death then, desensitized by the suffering. Now we're comfortable and well fed. It seems strange to think we had people starving to death only six months ago. It seems so… savage."

  "Having second thoughts about that expedition?"

  "Yes," he replied candidly. "I'm not sure I would be able to face another city like the one we explored on the way here."

  "It bothered you that much?" Mason asked.

  "Yes," he replied. "I still have nightmares."

  "Me, too," Mason admitted. "That statue dominates them."

  "For me also," Bauval replied. "I'm not one to believe in such things, but there was something evil about that place. I scoffed at the commander when he talked about there being something wrong with it."

  "But there is."

  "Yes. Something evil lurks in those ruins. There, I've said it." He sighed. "There is an ancient evil sleeping there. All I could think about was hoping that we didn't wake it up. It seemed hungry."

  Mason shivered. "How could something still be alive there after all this time?"

  "Something Tebrey said stuck with me," Bauval said. "Before we even entered the city, he told us to be careful, do you remember?"

  "Yes, he said something about ghosts, didn't he?"

  "No, that was Christopher. He said he believed the ruins might hold traps and other things. He mentioned alien stasis chambers."

  "You think he knew something we didn't? Something the military might have warned him about?"

  "I don't know. It doesn't seem as improbable as it might once have."

  Mason nodded. "I know what you mean. Could we just be paranoid?"

  "Of course," Bauval said with a small smile. He returned to the table. "We could also be right. He was sent here to look for alien weapons. We all know that. Why wouldn't he have a better idea of what he might find?"

  "You don't think he would have told us something?"

  "If it was classified? No, I don't."

  "I know what you mean. And what happened to the rest of his team? The ship never did show up. I never heard why."

  "If there was a team," Bauval replied. "They may never have sent anyone else. We only have his word that they did. We don't even have proof that the Nurgg actually showed up. This could just some kind of military experiment."

  "Now you are being paranoid," Mason said. "I think he's been honest with us. I trust him."

  "Oh, so do I," Bauval said, a wicked gleam in his eye. "But it does make interesting conversation to pass the time."

  Jeroen sat and talked with Jane for hours after Hrothgar had left. She was a strange woman. He was amazed by her depth of passion for the past. He learned from her that she and Douglas were a couple. No matter, he thought to himself. There were plenty of other women available in the city.

  He was worried about his friend. He knew the kind of people his mother employed. As tough as Tebrey might be, Jeroen couldn't see him fighting scores of men. He hoped the giant cat would tip the scales. There was a lot he didn't know about the beast. The legends said that a cat like that was nearly unstoppable and could kill hundreds of men with no one even knowing it had been there, but Jeroen didn't pay much heed to such tales. It was mortal; he'd seen it bleed.

  Jane had gone to bed shortly after the woman soldier had carried a small, pale girl into Hrothgar's room. He hadn't known that the man had acquired himself a pet.

  He shook his head, angry at himself.

  I need to start thinking of those as people too, he thought. It had been ingrained in him to think of them as animals, but he was learning. He was trying to be a better man. The incident in Vadodara had shown Hrothgar to be a kind man. He wondered what was wrong with the girl that he would take an interest in her.

  Sergeant McGee struggled to breathe.

  He was lying on his side in the darkness, listening fearfully for the return of his tormentors. They had doused him with cold water when he passed out. He'd been stripped and beaten, still with the sack over his head.

  At one point they had applied what must have been hot irons to him.

  He lay in the dark and prayed for death. He had no hope for rescue. He knew the realities of the situation only too well. He was too honest to lie to himself, even then, when he needed it the most.

  He was still alive only because they thought he was withholding information of some sort. He had been careful to reinforce that fallacy. He didn't know much of the local language, but he knew enough to curse colorfully. They had to continue to think that he could speak their language and was just too tough to talk. It was his only chance.

  The truth of the matter was that if he could have, he would have told them anything they wanted to know hours before.

  Listening to the screams of the other captives would have broken him without them doing anything to him. He huddled in the coarse straw and tried not to shiver; it hurt too much. Cold air moved in and out of the grate on the floor, as if the city was a giant beast that was going to swallow him whole and shit out his bones.

  Ana crept quietly down the stairs at dawn. The light rain softly pattering against the window had awakened her. The large house was still. She made her way into the kitchen where she found Mason and Bauval asleep with their heads resting on the heavy wooden table. She smiled to herself. They had been very kind to her. In some ways they reminded her of her parents.

  She laid more wood on the hearth, careful not to wake them. She had to stir and coax the fire to life; the embers had almost completely died down. She filled the water kettle and waited for it to boil. Hot tea was always a good way to start the day.

  Mason awoke groggily as the rich smell of brewing herbs filled the small kitchen. She sat up and blinked sleep-encrusted eyes at Ana until her mind awakened enough for the form in front of her to register. "Good morning," she said sleepily.

  "Morning, ma'am," Ana said. "I thought a bit of tea might be welcome."

  "Sounds like just the thing," Mason said. "Although I may have drunk too much overnight already. Excuse me." She stood and stumbled out of the room to the privy.

  "What?" Bauval said suddenly as Mason's chair bumped the table. He sat up and looked around. "Where's Mason? I thought I heard her."

  "She had to step out for a moment, sir. Would you like some tea?" She hoped she h
ad done the right thing. She hadn't thought they would mind her making tea, but their reactions were confusing.

  "Yes, please," Bauval said, stretching. "Has there been any word?"

  "No, sir." Ana had been trying not to think about that. It was morning, and Hrothgar had been gone for many hours. She didn't know what to do. She felt torn in different directions by a concern for him and a feeling of helplessness.

  Bauval's gaze softened. "I'm sure he's fine, Ana. Tebrey is very tough, and Hunter would never let anything bad happen to him."

  She nodded and made him his tea, choking back the unexpected tears.

  Christopher came into the kitchen looking bleary-eyed. "Um, hot tea," she said. "I saw the smoke start out of the chimney and thought there might be food on the way." She accepted a cup from Ana. "You don't happen to know how to cook, do you, girl? Neither of these two can cook worth a damn."

  Mason had come back into the room. "I thought you liked my cooking."

  "I like it better than going hungry," Christopher said blithely.

  "I don't claim to be an expert, but I can cook well enough. I'm not a baker, though."

  "No need; there's fresh bread here." Mason led her over to the breadbox. "We've a few eggs and such. If you can cook bacon without burning it, I may end up moving in with you," she said, winking to let the girl know she was joking.

  "I can do that," Ana said with a shy smile.

  "Porridge for me, if you don't mind," Christopher said with a sigh as she sat down. "Ah, this feels good. I've not sat all night. I was afraid if I did, I'd fall asleep." She yawned.

  Ana placed wood in the box under the stove and carefully transferred embers from the hearth over to get it started.

  "I never thought of that," Mason said. "Very clever."

  Ana blushed at the praise and started mixing the porridge. It had been a long time since she cooked for anyone. She was enjoying the experience.

  "The trick to cooking bacon is to cook it slowly. Don't let it get too hot," Ana said.

  "What about eggs? They always stick to the pan," Mason asked.

  "Cook 'em in the bacon grease."

  "Yuck," Christopher said. "If you're all going to talk about meat, I'm leaving. Ana, if you don't mind, wake me up when the porridge is done."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Christopher snorted. "You're not in my chain of command. Just call me Christopher, or Amelia if you want my first name. Wake me up." With that, she stumbled out of the room.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Here, Hunter thought, stopping in the tunnel. I think he's up there.

  There was very little illumination in that part of the tunnel, but Tebrey could just make out an old, rusty grate set into the arching roof. There was a strong smell of rotting blood and other foul things. The hole into the sewers had been used for years to dispose of dismembered bodies. Small squeaking things fled from them as they approached, exposing gnawed bone.

  I didn't think about how high it was, or expect the tunnel to be so slick, Tebrey thought. How are we going to get up there?

  Stand on my shoulders. Try to see if the sergeant is there, Hunter thought. Try to see if he is still alive.

  Right. Tebrey climbed onto the panther's broad, muscular shoulders. I'm sorry. He felt bad about the fact that his boots were wet, but there was no helping it. Standing there, he could easily reach the grate. It was also tightly bolted down. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the material of the tunnel formed a hexagonal opening. The underside of the paving stones above was clearly visible. It was obvious that the capitol's builders had merely taken advantage of existing tunnels. The layout of present-day Bellejor must follow the layout of the much older city. That suggested that the palace must be where the central plaza would have been. He shuddered.

  Muffled sounds brought his attention back to the room. He could see a faint light in the room, possibly coming from under a door.

  "Sergeant?" he whispered. He spoke quietly in Normarish so the man would know it was him. "Can you hear me?"

  There was a muffled sound from above and to the right of the grate.

  I can't tell if that's McGee, Tebrey thought desperately. I don't want to get in there and find out we have the wrong place.

  It's him. I can hear his thoughts now. You woke him up. We're going to have to do this quickly. He hurts badly.

  I know; I can feel it now. I'll climb down. Then you can jump up and knock out the grate. I'll need your help to get up there, but I suppose you can follow me quickly enough.

  Yes. I can do that. There was a hint of humor in Hunter's mental voice.

  Tebrey climbed carefully down and stood to the side as Hunter prepped himself to leap. Don't hurt yourself, Tebrey thought tensely.

  Hunter just shot him a reproachful glare before straightening up, standing on his hind legs, and slamming both front paws into the grate. Tebrey had never before fully appreciated just how large Hunter was. The panther had only to stretch to reach the bars. The iron grate flew off into the room above with a screech of torn bolts and clattered loudly to the floor.

  They will have heard that, Tebrey thought. No helping it, though. He leapt to Hunter's back and climbed through the opening. A brazier glowed faintly red off to his left. A bloody, hooded form lay curled on the floor.

  The door to the room flew open, and Tebrey drew his pistol as he rolled away from the hole in the floor. He could see a man with a drawn sword standing silhouetted against the light from the other room. Tebrey's pistol barked, and the man in the doorway was flung backward into the room beyond, his chest blown open in a gory red spray by the ten-millimeter explosive round.

  Come on.

  Hunter's claws flashed in the opening, and the massive panther launched himself out of the hole to land beside him as Tebrey rolled smoothly to his feet. He could hear shouts in other parts of the building. Everyone may not have heard the grate being forced, but the report of a caseless pistol carried. It was deafening in the confined space.

  Guard the door, Tebrey thought. And see if there's anyone else in that room.

  He knelt beside the battered form of his friend. The little sergeant had been badly beaten and abused. There were deep burns on his arms and legs. Tebrey gritted his teeth in anger. He holstered the pistol and drew his combat knife. The sharp beryllium steel slit the man's bonds with ease. He drew the hood off McGee's head.

  The sergeant roused. "What?" he said, trying to focus on Tebrey. "Who?"

  "Easy, McGee. It's me, Tebrey. Don't try to talk yet. Just rest. I'll get you out of here." He quickly, if roughly, examined the man's injuries. He'd live.

  "How?" McGee was struggling to sit up. "Where?"

  Tebrey helped him. "We came through the catacombs," he said. "We can't go back that way, though – storms on the way." The house shook with thunder to punctuate his statement. "I'm going to have to clear the place out before we can leave."

  Trouble on the way, Hunter thought. At least five men. Maybe six.

  Is that all? Tebrey thought without humor. Get back in here and keep an eye on McGee. I'll take care of them. He pulled the sergeant over to the wall, out of line of sight of the door. "McGee, I need you to listen. Hunter is going to guard you. There are more enemies on the way. I've got it covered. Just hang in there, and we'll have you out of here soon. We aren't going to leave you."

  Hunter came over and sat next to the sergeant.

  Tebrey could hear men calling out to each other in the next room; they'd seen the body. He drew a pistol with his left hand and grinned fiercely. This is what he was trained for.

  Be careful.

  Tebrey met Hunter's eyes and saluted with the combat knife.

  Good hunting, thought the cat.

  The guards had been ready for trouble.

  They'd been told there was chance someone might try to rescue the man they were interrogating. They'd heard the first guard's shout of alarm and then a sound like thunder from below. None of them knew what it could be, but they we
re cautious and well-trained. They had their weapons ready and thought they could handle any trouble, at least until the rest of their men arrived from the courtyard. They hadn't been ready for the attack to come from within, nor for the bloody, mangled body they found in the guard room.

  When Tebrey came out of the back room, it took them a moment to realize that he was actually going to attack; he didn't even have a sword. The sudden, deafening crash and explosive death of the two men with crossbows galvanized them into action. They leapt forward, determined to take this sorcerer down before any more could die.

  Tebrey kicked over a table, ducked under a swung blade, and drove his combat knife into a man's skull. The beryllium steel of the blade tore through the bone without effort. He was impeded somewhat by trying to conserve ammunition and keeping the door to McGee behind him. It was difficult to maintain enough space between him and the flashing blades.

  He had to draw their attention away from the back room and the wounded sergeant. He knew that Hunter was a capable fighter, but he didn't want to chance him being injured by an unlucky sword thrust.

  Tebrey deflected a blade with his knife and swung the pistol in his left hand against the side of the head of the man he was fighting. The guard went down under the impact, and Tebrey ripped him open from crotch to chin with the knife, hot blood spaying over him.

  He glimpsed another man coming into the room and turned to meet him. Tebrey was able to partially deflect the guard's blade so it caught him across the arm. The blade didn't cut as deeply as it might have, but Tebrey was staggered from the impact. He stifled a cry of pain and heard Hunter roaring in anger.

  Suddenly he glimpsed black fur as Hunter launched himself out of the back room onto the man. The guard barely had time to scream before he was crushed under hundreds of kilograms of bioengineered muscle and bone. The last guard turned to run, but Hunter caught him with a flash of silvery fangs, and the man screamed, his head wedged in Hunter's jaws. The cat flung the guard across the room to hit a wall with a bone-snapping crash.