He forced himself to eat, then when he’d taken as much as he could, he pushed the tray aside. Time to look at his leg and assess how much damage had been done. Only a sheet remained over him, he’d thrown the other covers off while he’d slept. Pulling the sheet back, he loosened the bandage. His leg was now almost rigid with the swelling and looked to be at least twice its normal size. The dressing over the entry wound was saturated and seeping a blood-tinged yellowish fluid. It had spread over the surrounding area of his thigh in a sticky, unpleasant mess that was matting his fur. Easing himself slightly onto his good hip, he could feel that the blanket below was stuck to his body from just above his hipbone to almost his knee. Not good, not good at all.
Returning to the dressing, he lifted it up. From his training, he knew what to expect, but it didn’t prepare him for the reality of seeing his own charred and cooked flesh. He looked away as he let the dressing fall back, but his vision began to fade rapidly and he had to force himself to stay conscious by taking deep breaths.
He tried to be more dispassionate when he looked at it again. The entry hole, halfway down his thigh and on the outer edge of the quadriceps muscle, was actually reasonably small from what he could see under the fluid that was seeping out. Through his fur, the surrounding flesh showed tight and shiny and there was a fair amount of dead tissue that needed removing.
Replacing the front of the dressing, he rolled onto his good hip, twisting his upper body so he could lift the other side and check the exit wound. Three or four times the size of the entry wound, it covered much of the upper back of his thigh. He saw immediately that a sizable lump of flesh had actually been vaporized. The fluid loss was greater, and under the constantly welling liquid he could see that the irregular edge of the wound was again charred, with a ring of flesh beyond it that had obviously been cooked. Swelling here was, if it were possible, worse.
Nausea and dizziness gripped him and he let the dressing fall into place again. Swallowing convulsively, he rolled back and reached for the water—he had to replace as much as he could of the fluids he was losing—as far as he could tell, Kezule didn’t intend him to get any medical treatment in the near future. Fever dream or not, he was going to try that healing trance idea, he decided as he gulped down the water.
Vartra’s realm, same day
Vartra sighed, rubbing his temples as he got to his feet and stepped backward into his own realm. He was weary, with a tiredness he found impossible to shake off. Since the TeLaxaudin’s power failure on Kij’ik, he’d been watching and waiting for this small window of opportunity to help Kusac. His head hurt with the effort of it, but he was beginning to form a small understanding of how and why he was being manipulated and used.
Beneath his feet, the grass felt good after so long on stone or metal floors. He’d chosen early summer since it was a time of year he’d always enjoyed. As he began to walk through the clearing to his cottage, he let one hand fall to his side and breathed deeply, smelling the blossoms of the fruit trees and the bushes that surrounded him. Insects buzzed in the distance, their sound usually a comfort to him, but right now their noise was exacerbating his headache. Even the scent of the nung trees, wafted over him by a gentle breeze, didn’t help.
Something white dashed in front of him, stopping suddenly just to his right. As he looked, another lithe shape darted past him, joining the first. Then together, they bounded out in front of him, leaping and gamboling with each other, their long bushy tails trailing behind them like pennants in the wind.
“Jeggets,” he muttered, still massaging his forehead. Since the Human had taken one back from a pathwalk, Ghyakulla in Her wisdom had seen fit to introduce them to his realm. Granted they weren’t the pests here that they were elsewhere, but there were times when ... He stopped, watching the little creatures, realizing that every few steps he took, they would run to him before returning to their game. It was as if they were encouraging him to follow them.
Looking ahead, he thought he saw a faint rippling, a distortion as if the boundaries were weakening between the realms. Once again the jeggets returned, rearing up on their hind legs and chittering before dashing off toward just that spot. Picking up his pace, he followed, stepping into Ghyakulla’s garden.
Her garden was like no other. To most it would seem a wilderness, a profusion of wild flowers and overgrown bushes, but he knew that She rotated the plants so each species could have its turn being close to Her. Each time he came to Her garden, it was different. Today, it was high summer. For a moment, he basked in the warmth of the sun, smelling the heat rising from the rich earth around him: it was like feeling Her breath, he thought. The jeggets tumbled and rolled with each other for a moment, waiting for him, then set off down the pathway, chittering at him in encouragement.
The low-growing herbs he crushed beneath his feet scented the air with a lemon freshness that began instantly to help his aching head. He heard the sound of voices ahead, and rounding a bend, found himself in the middle of a small clearing of raw Earth. She was there, on Her haunches, greeting the jeggets. She looked up, mouth dropping in a smile, reaching an earth-covered hand up to brush a stray lock of Her hair from her eyes. Standing up, She gestured for him to look at the newly planted areas. He saw bushes bearing strangely intricate flowers, with petals that folded and curled into each other in a way he’d never seen before. Every bush was of a different color—reds, yellow, pinks—the varieties seemed endless. Curious, he moved closer, smelling their sweet perfume almost immediately. Breathing deeply, headache almost forgotten, he reached out to touch one delicate flower head. He saw the thorns and wondered at them, but knew that in Her garden, he’d no need to fear anything.
Earth Roses.
He glanced back at Her, taking the hand She held out to him, following as She showed him Her collection of new flora.
Honeysuckle. Foxgloves.
The voices sounded closer now, and as they passed a small gap among the taller bushes, he caught sight of two figures crouched on their haunches as she had been, chatting amicably as they patted the soil around the new plants. He stopped dead, blinking, hardly believing what he saw. Noni, but as she was now, not her usual younger self, and the Human, Conner.
He looked at Ghyakulla questioningly and found his mind filled with a sense of loneliness ending and companionship found for those who had served Shola and Earth so well. He turned to look at them again, watching Conner rescue the end of Noni’s long white plait from the muddy soil. They laughed, then he reached out to run his fingertips gently along her jaw, then touch her neck. He turned away, guilty at disturbing their privacy.
“Noni and Conner?” he asked as She drew him onward.
She nodded, letting him know it was Her gift of healing to them both. Your gift will come later.
He wondered briefly before realizing what She meant, and why he’d been called here today.
Delphiniums. Lavender. As before, their names came to him as he passed each new species. Ghyakulla never spoke in words, She always communicated through images within his mind.
The colors and the scents dazzled his senses and when they came at last to Her fountain, he was almost glad of the respite.
Made of natural stone, it rose to a height of four feet. Water, from gaps set at irregular intervals, ran gurgling and chuckling into a basin at its foot. At the top, it sprayed up in a delicate fountain only six inches high. Around it, the air was cool and refreshing.
Drink. She handed him a mug made from the clay of Her garden.
Leaning on the edge of the fountain, he held the mug under the cascading water, watching as, at his feet, the jeggets put their brown-tipped noses into the pool and lapped thirstily.
He hesitated, knowing only too well what Ghyakulla’s water could do. It could bring forgetfulness, or visions. She shook Her head gently as She chuckled, Her eyes lighting up with humor.
He drank, feeling the tiredness, the headache, and the weariness of the TeLaxaudin and all they represented begin
to slough away from him.
“Thank you,” he said, returning the mug to Her. His eyes caught Hers, seeing green, verdant forests that stretched forever in their depths. He drew strength from Her, felt renewed and refreshed, able now to face what he knew was still to come.
Kij’ik
Jayza joined Banner in the lounge area. “Any news on the Captain?” he asked, straightening the sofa cushions before sitting down.
Banner shook his head. “None,” he said, making sure he kept his voice calm.
“He looked to be in a bad way.”
“He was. The wound went clean through his upper thigh just missing the hip. I’m praying it didn’t hit the bone or he could lose that leg.”
“Ouch,” Jayza said, wincing. He sighed. “Well, at least we know why he was so close to Shaidan, and so secretive about everything. There’s one thing I don’t understand, though.”
“What?” asked Banner, holding out his pack of stim twigs.
“Thanks,” the youth said in surprise, getting up and coming over to take one.
“Sit beside me,” said Banner in a low voice, using the Highland dialect. “If they didn’t have the vid com spying on us before, they sure as hell will now.”
Jayza nodded and sat next to him. “I thought everyone was out of stim twigs. What I don’t understand is how Shaidan can be Kusac’s son,” he said, lowering his voice.
“All the cubs are hybrids, and were grown in tanks by the Directorate,” said Banner, putting the twig in his mouth and biting down on it. The slightly bitter taste was in tune with how he felt right now. “Their existence is a political nightmare.”
“Ah,” said Jayza. “Stronghold wouldn’t have harmed them, would they?”
Banner shook his head. “They’ll still be at Haven. Our government can’t afford to have them go to their parents because of the risk of blowing this wide open. By coming here with Kusac, we now know about it. He was trying to get us to leave before we found out.”
“So we’re now a political embarrassment,” said Jayza slowly, his ears folding down.
“More. We didn’t know it, but for Kusac to take the mission, he had to be branded a traitor because of stealing the Couana. Now that we know about the cubs, I think we share the same charges.”
Jayza stared at him. “Shit,” he said quietly. Then he shrugged. “No matter. I wouldn’t allow the Captain to face those charges alone anyway.”
For the first time in several hours, Banner smiled. He said nothing because it wasn’t needed.
“What do we do now?” Jayza asked after a few minutes. “Did they get everything we made?”
“Not all, but we can’t get to anything while we’re kept in our rooms, and only you and I can access this lounge. I was surprised to see what you’d all been making.”
Jayza grinned. “I guess we all got bored,” he said with an attempt at levity.
“What happens next depends on what Kezule does,” said Banner. “It’s just possible he’ll let us all go, including Shaidan.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do,” said Jayza, glancing sideways at him. “What is Kezule likely to do to us?”
Banner shook his head. “No idea, but if he causes Kusac’s death, I’ll kill him,” he said coldly.
Jayza nodded. “Did you see him fighting Kezule?” he asked, changing the topic. “I thought we were supposed to be slower and weaker than them. Sure didn’t look like Kusac was.”
“Kezule’s older than those we’ve been training,” said Banner. He knew that age hadn’t slowed Kezule, that somehow Kusac actually was as fast and as strong as the Valtegan Warrior, but he was keeping that to himself for now, just as he was keeping the fact that he was damned sure it had been Kusac who’d mentally killed the guard who’d shot him.
Knowing about the scent marker, who Shaidan was, and that Kusac faced charges of treason on his return, answered a lot of his doubts about his Captain, but not those concerning how changed he was in other ways—like his increased speed and strength, and the return of his Talent. What had Annuur and Kzizysus done to him?
Ghioass, TeLaxaudin world, Camarilla chamber, same day
“Silence!” said Khassiss from the Speaker’s podium. She waited till the chittering of the Cabbarans and the humming of her own people had faded before continuing.
“The Unity net on the sand-dweller Outpost has been damaged, this is not in doubt. Cannot contact Giyarishis, this also not in doubt. Decision before us is how we remedy situation.”
Zaimiss rose to his feet. “What point in exposing our interest further? Is wild element in potentialities now—has been for some time but you close eyes to it! No guarantee if we repair this that it not happen again.”
“Repair is surely easy—we send unmanned ship as usual and have new components plus many spares for Giyarishis,” said Aizshuss, obviously agitated, getting up as the Isolationist sat down. “Hunter must live, nothing else matters!”
“Is argument perhaps one agent not enough,” said Kuvaa, sitting up on her haunches. “Send another with components.”
“Is plain to all but you Hunter is wild element,” said Hkairass contemptuously. “Is flawed despite changes you made to him!” He folded himself back down on his cushion, mandibles clicking in disapproval.
“I Speak for sending supplies and agent,” said Shvosi, sitting up. “All must we do to ensure Hunter’s survival. Nothing can Giyarishis do without the Unity net—even disruptor not work.”
Azwokkuss rose. “All has been done to Hunter to ensure his survival. Send supplies, but no other agent necessary. Faith I have in work done by Annuur and Kzizysus. If Camarilla decide agent must be sent, I Speak to send Hkairass—be good for him to experience closeness to nexus of potentialities. Send now, by our portal, no time for delay.”
Hkairass leaped to his feet. “I protest!” he began, but a look and gesture from the elderly female TeLaxaudin silenced him and he sank, humming disgruntledly, to his cushion.
Khassiss stared fixedly at him then at Azwokkuss before emitting a scent of faint amusement. “Very well, we have two options now to vote on.”
Kij’ik, Zhal-Mellasha 21st day (February)
“How is he?” Zayshul asked, hovering in the doorway of Security on the Officers level.
M’zynal glanced up at the clock. It was 08:00. “The same as he was an hour ago, Doctor,” he said gently, leaning forward to change the view on one of his main screens to show the interior of Kusac’s cell. “And the hours before that when you called my night officer. Apart from throwing off his covers, he hasn’t moved since he was fed midafternoon yesterday.”
Venturing into the room, she went closer to the wall mounted screens. “He’s very still,” she said. “Are you sure he’s all right? Why’s he naked?”
“His clothing had to be searched,” said M’zynal. “Given the state of his leg, I thought it kinder not to try and put his tunic back on him.” He looked at her. “They don’t consider themselves naked, Doctor.”
The image increased in size until she could see him clearly. He lay sprawled partly on his side, the weight of his injured leg supported by the good one folded underneath its knee. The visible part of his dressing glistened slightly.
“He’s breathing very slowly,” said M’zynal, “but he’s breathing.”
She moved closer still, peering at the screen. “Dear Goddess!” she exclaimed, rounding on him. “The blanket under him is saturated and his leg is more than twice its normal size! If there’s an infection set in, M’zynal, he’ll die unless I treat him! All the secondary wounds he suffered in that fight, none of them will be able to clot! You must let me in to treat him!”
“I’m sorry, Doctor,” he said. “I’ve been told no one’s to treat him, especially you.”
“This is insane! I demand you let me in at once!” she insisted, advancing on him.
He came out from behind his desk and took hold of her by the arm. When she struggled, he tightened his grip.
&
nbsp; “Doctor Zayshul, if you want to help the Sholan, take my advice,” he said quietly. “Don’t push to have him treated. Someone will be going in shortly to feed him and give him water. If you anger the General, he may prevent us doing even that.”
She stared at him disbelievingly. “Why?” she asked. “Why are you helping him?”
M’zynal looked away, unwilling to tell her that he and many others thought the General was wrong. “M’kou asked us to,” was all he’d say as he escorted her to the door.
“We had a new arrival last night. Another TeLaxaudin and some supplies—components and the like, nothing exciting. He went up to join Giyarishis. They had night maintenance hauling ladders about examining the bulkheads. Something about faulty electrics in the bulkheads.”
“I’m not interested,” she began.
“Be interested, and let us do what we can down here,” said M’zynal, squeezing her arm gently.
She stared at him again and he nodded. “Go and eat, then visit the new TeLaxaudin. He’s not like Giyarishis, he’s got a temper on him.”
She nodded slowly as he drew her out into the corridor.
“You’ll call me if ...”
“We’ll call you,” he said.
When she’d gone, he went through to the brig, gesturing to one of the males on duty to take his place in Security.
“Zhalmo, you need to rest,” he said, going up to where his sister sat at the brig’s control desk. “He’s fine, I don’t know what you and the Doctor are so concerned about. He’s responding exactly as one would expect him to do without medical treatment.”
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