House of Zeor

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Determined to make the most of this break, however Valleroy lashed his mind back to Aisha and her fate. The guards wouldn’t answer his questions, so he kept busy exploring all the possibilities and what he could do about them. They marched him between barracks buildings, around the stables, and into the administration complex by the back door. At the far end of the building, they entered a side corridor that led to a shower room. Two guards unstrapped him, roughly undressed him, scrubbed him down with the efficiency of harried stable boys, and shoved him into a knee-length, white tunic...standard pen issue.

  To all of this, Valleroy submitted docilely, since he didn’t mind getting clean. But when they started to strap him back into the harness without his pants, he balked.

  With a sudden, twisting lunge, he ripped the harness right out of the guard’s hands. Two seconds later, he had one of the straps looped around the leader’s tentacles. He twisted the Sime’s arm in a modified hammerlock that applied cruel pressure to the laterals. The other Simes froze, ready to leap but unable to risk that particular injury to their comrade.

  Knowing that he had no advantage save that of surprise, Valleroy spoke fast. “I don’t mind the white tunic. Especially if you’re sending me to Klyd. But I don’t go anywhere without my pants, cloak, and shoes...and my ring. Get them now, or you’ll have to get a new squad leader!” He tightened his grip and watched them all wince at his hostage’s pain.

  Decisively, one of them went to the corner where they’d tossed Valleroy’s things and brought back the items mentioned.

  After one last, brutal squeeze, Valleroy shoved the hostage into the arms of his fellows. While two of the Simes examined the injuries, the third moved toward Valleroy with the harness.

  Stretching a sock between his hands, Valleroy crouched low, balancing on the balls of his feet. “You want a turn, too?”

  It was evident from his confusion that the Sime had never faced a Gen who didn’t fear him. The Sime had the physical advantage, and his indecision was only momentary. But Valleroy took full advantage of that moment to slip into his mud-encrusted clothing. By the time reinforcements arrived, he once more wore the Zeor crest ring proudly on his right hand.

  Seven guards, hardened professionals, now surrounded Valleroy. He wasn’t afraid of them, but he knew he had no choice except to go along. He went. But he went proudly, and they didn’t try to take his clothes away again. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he considered that a triumph even though he was once more harnessed.

  They climbed a flight of stairs, walked a short distance and entered the top, corner room of the building. It was a small cubicle but luxuriously appointed. The carpet was a silky green velvet material; the drapes were heavy enough to darken the room against full sunlight and the walls were a polished wood that seemed to reflect the soft light in spots while absorbing it in others. The only furniture was a large studio couch and an upholstered, contoured lounge.

  Seated on the lounge, chained to the wall behind her sat Aisha. She wore the traditional white tunic and nothing else. But her collar and chain were not barbed. She could move with some freedom. Her gleaming black hair was piled onto her head into a complex structure of curves that emphasized her strong jaw line and defiant eyes.

  They were allowed only a moment to look at each other. Then the guards produced one of the barbed neck chains and fastened Valleroy to a metal plate in the wall of the room opposite Aisha.

  The door flew open. Andle swaggered into the room surveying the scene with evident anticipation. Then he dismissed the guards, snatching the keys from the leader and placing them on a wall hook beyond reach of both Gens. “Now, get out of the building and stay clear. I don’t want any crossed-field interference.”

  Abruptly, the two Gens were alone with the Sime. Lips pursed, he measured Valleroy’s length disdainfully noting the Gen’s mixed costume. Then he turned to Aisha, pacing slowly toward her as he spoke to Valleroy. “You see, I have her as I want her, without any aid from drugs. I’ve granted you permission to observe my technique...an opportunity any Householder would seize eagerly.”

  Valleroy’s heart began racing. “If you wished to instruct Zeor, you should have brought Klyd here, too. Or were you afraid he might seduce you into his perversion? You’re halfway there already, aren’t you?”

  He saw the Sime’s back tense at that and pressed his advantage. “I can see it in your laterals. Your glands aren’t responding to Aisha at all, are they?”

  He moved a step closer to the girl, who sat wide-eyed but immobile. “Shut up, Gen, or I’ll have the guards come back with a gag...a foul-tasting one.”

  “Why? Can’t you trust yourself to touch me? A Companion makes an even better transfer than a channel...as I’m sure you’ve discovered. Wouldn’t you rather try out my talent for this new, exotic perversion?”

  The Sime’s laterals flicked out along the sides of his hands, quivering ecstatically in the dual selyn field between the two Gens. Valleroy knew his field was steeper because his single forced donation had stimulated his selyn production to higher than normal levels...to near Companion levels. Valleroy smiled. “That’s it, isn’t it? You attacked a Companion once, and you liked it so much you lost your taste for the kill. Now, if that isn’t perverted, I don’t know what is!”

  Andle moved two more paces closer to Aisha. “Shut up or I’ll have you removed!”

  Valleroy gauged the distance between the pair and took a wild guess. “A real Sime committed to a kill wouldn’t be able to talk to me at this point. But it’s me you want, not her. If not, why did you have me dressed up like this?”

  Andle took one more step toward the girl, but when he spoke it was much more weakly. “Shut up.”

  “Andle, come on over here.” Valleroy unconsciously assumed Klyd’s coaxing manner, the terribly effective manner the channel had used on Hrel and the others. “Andle, I’ll serve you. Willingly. Not like the other Companion you had to force yourself on. We know the pleasures of the Sime as well as his agonies. I will serve your need, if you will let Aisha serve Klyd.”

  The Sime stood rigid, controlled by the instinct no Sime could overcome. At that moment, Andle was incapable of testing the logic behind that statement, Valleroy knew a moment of triumph at the Sime’s hesitation. It meant he was right. Valleroy switched to English. “Aisha, he can’t hurt you. Remember what we taught you, and do it just the way we decided.”

  Without warning, the Sime sprang at the girl. Startled, she recoiled. But then she met his outstretched tentacles with willing hands. At the moment of contact, she was kneeling on the lounge. She let his weight push her over in a tangle of arms and legs. His tentacles flashed about her arms!

  Valleroy saw Andle’s laterals make contact. Aisha presented him with his fifth contact...a pair of moist lips. Valleroy knew that Andle felt nothing feminine in those lips. Nevertheless, jealousy surged triumphantly as Valleroy yelled, “Now, Aisha! Get him!”

  Valleroy remembered that awful sensation that Klyd had inflicted on him. That was the draining horror that Aisha was facing. If she couldn’t overcome it for just an instant, there would never be another chance. “AISHA! Get him!”

  Her hands were rigid claws pulling away from the Sime with all her strength. It was a deep-seated reflex, Klyd had said. And he ought to know. Valleroy conceded defeat. But then, those straining fingers clamped down hard on the Sime’s arms, moving up just a bit and squeezing deep into the exposed flesh.

  She hit the node!

  As if transfixed by high-voltage current, the Sime stiffened, throat frozen against the outcry that rose from his diaphragm. Andle’s eyes bulged as the lids peeled incredibly far back. Valleroy could feel the Sime’s death. But the corpse refused to die. It fell back onto the cushions, vibrating hideously. The mouth was locked open. The tongue had been swallowed. The death grimace was terror incarnate. Still, the body continued to kick.

  Aisha was catastrophically sick all over the silken upholstery. Valleroy would have joined her,
but his stomach was empty. “Pull yourself together girl, and see if you can reach the keys. We’re not finished with this job yet. Andle is only the second installment in the Death Price of Feleho Ambrov Zeor!”

  Fighting the dry heaves, she eased herself around the shaking corpse and reached for the keys that still hung on the wall peg midway between them. The collar chain was just barely long enough to let her catch the bottom of one key. She jiggled it until the ring fell onto the carpet. Then she used her bare feet to retrieve the keys.

  It took her several tedious moments to tame her shaking hands enough to unlock her own fetters. Moments later, she had Valleroy loose.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  FINAL DECISION

  “Good,” said Valleroy, shaking off the harness. He tucked the white tunic into his trousers. “Where are your clothes?”

  Aisha looked down at her white shroud. “They made me leave them in the dressing room down the hall.” Her eyes seemed unfocused. She swayed, on the verge of fainting. Valleroy put his arm around her in support, cursing himself for taking time to notice how good it felt.

  With his other hand, Valleroy grabbed one of the harnesses. It made a good weapon. “Let’s go get your clothes. You can’t go out dressed like that.”

  They found her things in an adjacent room. She dressed rapidly while he paced. “We’ve got to steal three of their horses and cripple the rest. Do you know where they keep that gas they used on you?”

  “The crazy stuff?”

  “Yes, or the sleep gas.”

  “Well, it was racked in the room at the other end of this building, on the ground floor.”

  “Good. We have to go that way to get to the stables. Let’s try it.”

  “It’s no use. They’ll spot our selyn fields moving.”

  “Maybe. But we can’t just sit and wait for them to collect us and try again!”

  “I guess.” To Valleroy’s eye, she looked like a wilted rose that had been stepped on too many times. Her eyes were sunken bruises.

  “Can you make it?”

  “If I don’t, you’ll just have to leave me.”

  Biting his lip hard, Valleroy led the way down the stairs. Andle’s order had left the building deserted. The room with the gas cylinders had a perfunctory lock mechanism on the door, which Valleroy broke with four shoulder-lunges. Inside he found the interrogation center of the Raiders...a room he knew held terrible memories for Aisha. He pointed her back the other way. “Go watch the front door, the one by that office down there. I’ll get the cylinder.”

  Wordlessly, she obeyed, and Valleroy entered that chilling theater that looked so much like a hospital operating room but wasn’t. Along one wall he found a rack of gas cylinders, color banded and labeled in Simelan. But the words were all unfamiliar. Vaguely, he remembered the cylinder they’d used to put Aisha to sleep. It had borne purple bands. After a short search, he found one like it on the end of the line. It was larger than the one he’d seen, and it had no face mask attached. But there was a valve mechanism he thought he could open.

  With the surprisingly heavy cylinder on one shoulder and the strap-weapon on the other, he rejoined Aisha at the exit nearest the stables. She held up a bundle of keys. “Look what I found in the office!”

  Valleroy snatched them, peering intently. “The keys to the cages!” He set the cylinder on the floor and searched through the keys. Each one was numbered. Valleroy had noticed the number painted on the trap door of Klyd’s cage. If he could find one that matched...maybe....Three quarters of the way around the ring, he found it, ripped it off, and shoved it in his pocket. “We’ll have to make a dash for it. Think you’re up to saddling a horse?”

  “I’ll manage or I’ll ride bare.” She slid past him and was out the door running before he could move.

  By the time he ducked into the shadowy gloom of the stable, she was in the nearest stall saddling a handsome gelding that looked lean and fast. Her hair hung down in wisps plastered to her sweating face. Valleroy was beginning to suspect she’d been burned by Andle, but there was nothing he could do about transfer shock now.

  He put the cylinder down and snatched up a saddle for the stallion across the way. If there had been a stable hand on duty, they’d have been challenged before now. No sense wasting time searching the building. There were only a handful of occupied stalls. The camp was all but deserted. Nevertheless, one Sime could be the end of their escape. Valleroy drew the cinch tight, and went to the next stall. Another sleek gelding was stomping impatiently. The Runzi had some of the best horseflesh Valleroy had ever seen.

  With the hackamore in place, Valleroy collected the reins of all three horses for Aisha. “Get them outside. I’ll put the others to sleep. Move.”

  Valleroy had to boost her into the saddle. She just barely had strength to hold on. He smacked her mount’s flank and then turned to the gas cylinder. After three frantic tries, Valleroy remembered the way the Runzi message tube had been sealed. He found three recessed safety buttons that had to be held down simultaneously. They were designed to be convenient for tentacles, not fingers. He had to jam them down with splinters of wood broken from a stall, but he finally got the gas to hiss steadily forth. Holding his breath, he sprayed the occupied stalls and left the cylinder half buried in the manger near the door. Then, lungs screaming, he dashed for open air.

  Rounding the corner of the building, he found Aisha waiting with the two spare mounts beside her. She slumped in the saddle, eyes squeezed shut against the bright sunlight. She hadn’t noticed the Sime who had just emerged from the nearest barracks building staring at them in a moment of total shock.

  Without breaking stride, Valleroy swarmed onto his horse and charged the hapless Raider at full gallop, swinging the straps of his harness into the air like a lariat. A moment before the whistling tangle of straps fell over his head, the Sime gathered his wits...there really was a Gen attacking him!...and began to move. But even Sime augmented speed couldn’t quite offset the advantage of surprise.

  One loop of the harness settled over the Raider’s neck, and behind it came Valleroy, his full weight falling from horseback height, forcing the Sime to the ground. It was sheer luck that Valleroy landed on the Raider’s back where the steely tentacles could not get an immediate grip on him. He took full advantage of that fleeting instant to yank on the noose. The dull snap of the Raider’s spine was ample reward. Valleroy didn’t wait to watch the man die.

  Disentangling his harness, he leaped back into the saddle. “Aisha! I’m going for Klyd. You get on the road south and I’ll be right behind you. Don’t stop for anything!” Thundering by her, Valleroy grabbed the reins of Klyd’s horse and streaked for the cages, flattening himself to the horse’s back. Now that they’d been discovered, speed was their only hope.

  And, thought Valleroy, concentrating on speed was his only hope. He dared not think about what he must do next, or what might happen after that.

  Plunging out of the alley between barracks buildings, Valleroy drew up next to Klyd’s cage. The channel was still at the bars, scrabbling with feeble determination. Valleroy knew that Klyd was in no way responsible for his own actions. Given the slightest chance, need would drive him to a kill right then and there, regardless of the danger of being recaptured.

  Leaving his harness straps dangling over the horse’s neck, Valleroy stood up on his saddle and drew himself onto the cage roof. He inserted the key into the trap door’s lock. Then he lay prone to peer over the edge of the roof before opening the door. “Klyd, I’m going to raise the door. Your horse is right there. Follow me, and when we’re clear of the camp, I’ll stop and let you catch up. Understand?”

  There was no light of recognition in those tortured eyes. Valleroy uttered a prayer as he threw the trap door open. Then he leaped back into his saddle and whipped the gelding’s flank. He had tried to pick the slower horse for Klyd, but that was no sure way to win a race.

  Valleroy caught up to Aisha midway down the mountainside, and t
here he gave her horse an encouraging smack as he passed. In response, the horse leaned into the wind.

  They came off the downhill trail and dove into the dense evergreen forest. Tree trunks flashed by forming a solid wall. Out of the direct sunlight, Valleroy felt the chill bite of the mountain wind cutting through the flimsy garment he wore. Klyd was gaining on them too quickly. He forgot about the cold as he lashed his horse to one final sprint for safety. As he rode, he thought ahead to what he’d have to do.

  All of their luck to this moment would be for nothing if he couldn’t save Klyd to rebuild Zeor. But the emotions of that morning still plagued him. He knew that his only chance for survival lay in his willingness to sacrifice his life for Klyd’s. But it had to be a genuine commitment. To the hypnotic beat of the horse’s hooves, he ran over and over the arguments.

  In the end, it was that one word from Feleho Ambrov Zeor that made it all real to Valleroy. “Naztehr.” He’d been honored with that title. Now that time had come to earn the honor. And he really wanted to earn it.

  He allowed Aisha to draw ahead. When they had come to a small clearing where shafts of misty sunlight speared the dense gloom, he had reined in without warning her. By the time she had noticed, and had turned to come back, Klyd had caught up to Valleroy.

  The two horses stood lathered and blowing clouds of steam into the rods of sunlight. The arching trees above were so much like a cathedral that Valleroy thought it would be a fine place to die. Wearily, he dismounted and stood ankle-deep in fragrant pine needles, waiting for the channel.

  With an augmented burst of motion, the Sime was before Valleroy, tentacles outstretched, face drawn to such a tension that any Gen would have been terrified. But in that instant, Valleroy saw not a ferocious predator intent on murder, but his partner, who had sacrificed family and reputation and who now pleaded desperately for help to avoid the final disgrace of his name...the kill.

  Something deep within Valleroy responded to that plea, sending his own hands out to meet those tentacles. He could not allow Zeor to be disgraced.