Shadow Hunters

by Christie Golden

  “But you have never seen him?”

  “No. Only been touched by his mind and will.”

  “You said he has tasks for you—what are they?”

  Alzadar twitched slightly. Rosemary, watching apart from the mental link, frowned a little as she munched a sammuro. “Careful,” she cautioned. “Whatever you’re saying to him is starting to freak him out.”

  “Most of the tasks, we do not know,” Alzadar said. “Such are deep secrets, revealed only to the ones he selects to become Xava’kai.”

  “He lives in the chambers?” Zamara pressed.

  “I do not believe so. Zamara, he has been good to us. I do not wish to believe that we have been serving such a thing as you say!”

  Zamara, in Jake’s body, nodded. “I can well believe that. You have not fallen into evil, Alzadar. You have only been angry and afraid—as the Shel’na Kryhas are. As any sentient being would have been. And when you saw hope—you followed it.”

  “You must come with us,” Jake said suddenly, pushing past Zamara as he had done on a few occasions before. “Come with us to find the crystal. See for yourself what’s in the chambers. The protoss really are one people. They want you with them.”

  He was the first to think it, to feel it, and he sensed the surprise and admiration from the others as they agreed. Too, he sensed a slight shame in them, that it had been a mere terran to offer such evidence of forgiveness and acceptance, and for the first time he, Jacob Jefferson Ramsey, felt as welcomed into this sacred space as Zamara.

  “Yes,” said Ladranix. “Yes, come, my brother … we will share this with you … ,” came other mental voices.

  “It is … a forbidden area,” said Alzadar. “The Xava’tor has ordered us on pain of death not to go there.”

  “Aren’t you curious as to why a so-called benefactor would issue such a statement? Don’t you want to know why he takes some of you and you never return? Or what the Xava’kai are doing? And why he demands that you slay a preserver, the pride of the protoss race, one of our most precious treasures?” Ladranix continued.

  And of course, Alzadar was curious—he was a pro-toss, he was of the race that begat Temlaa and Khas and Vetraas and Adun. He hesitated, and Jake felt his indecision. Then, finally, “Yes. I would know if we have been cherished or betrayed. And if I am convinced that it is the latter … I am not without influence in the Forged. I will join you, and convince others to come with me. I was once a templar, trained from birth to protect my people. I pray I have the chance to do so again.”

  He turned to Jake, and inclined his head slowly. Zamara’s thought was for Jake alone, proud and oddly wistful. Well done, Jacob. Well done.

  Jake stood in his formal robes beside Adun as they spoke with Kortanul. “It is done,” Adun said heavily, “and my heart is heavy with the doing.”

  “You are a templar protecting the protoss from an enemy. Your heart should not be heavy, but soar with righteousness. I have been shown the recorded images you sent. The young female Raszagal was a very real danger. Her proud thoughts as she died angered many of us.”

  “Stay your anger; she is dead and can harm the protoss no further. We are continuing with the purging, as you requested. We will send documentation for each one as executions are performed,” Jake said. He did not like how Adun looked; the executor seemed close to losing his composure.

  Kortanul softened a bit. “I know this is hard,” he said gently. “I know it seems wrong. But it is to preserve the Khala—our way of life, everything that it is to be protoss. Adun, you must trust in our wisdom. This is truly the right thing to do. Keep me apprised.”

  The screen went dark and Adun dropped his head and closed his eyes.

  “You did not need to be quite so inflammatory on your deathbed, Raszagal,” Jake said wryly.

  Raszagal, wearing a long robe, her arms free from the crystal bindings, stepped smoothly out of the alcove where she had listened, undetected, to the entire exchange. “I am sorry,” she said, ducking her head and raising her shoulders in a smile. “But I could not resist. Besides, it distracted them. They were so angry they did not see that the wounds you made were false.”

  “Still, it was risky,” Adun rebuked. “And we cannot afford to take risks. Are you and the others ready?”

  Raszagal sobered. “We are,” she said quietly. “And there is not a one among us who does not speak your name without honor, gratitude, and … well, to say truly—disbelief.”

  Jake shared that disbelief. For the last several days, templar had been quietly dispatched to various locations on Aiur. They had sought out places where these “dark templar” could safely be relocated, to live in peace until such a time as the Conclave was of a mind-set to discuss their reintegration. The templar were not without contacts among the khalai, contacts who could be trusted with a venture of this magnitude. Not even Adun would know where all of the dark templar were when this came to an end. No one would know the whole picture. That way, it was hoped, the Conclave would not know it either.

  “An underground railroad,” Jake said. “Just like back on Earth, before slavery was abolished in one of the major countries. Something that went against the law of the land—but that was the right thing to do. I have to say, though, I never would have expected Adun to come up with that kind of solution.”

  “There is a quote among humans I have learned,” Zamara replied. “‘Desperate times call for desperate measures.’ Adun was faced with a terrible choice. Kill his own kind, or lie and hide in order to protect them. It tormented him until he chose, but he was at peace with his decision.”

  “I know,” Jake said softly. “I felt it.”

  Raszagal turned to Jake, her eyes bright with humor that he could not sense but nonetheless beheld in her body language.

  “You do not approve of this course of action, Vetraas,” she said boldly.

  “I approve of Adun. I approve of staying my hand when it came to taking your lives. Templar though I am, when it comes to my own people, I believe talking and understanding is always better than slaughter, young Raszagal.”

  Adun seemed lost in thought. “Your final destination will be unknown to me,” he told Raszagal after a moment. “I will have a way to contact you, though. You understand why this must be?”

  “Of course. If the Conclave read your thoughts, you can only betray part of the puzzle.”

  He nodded. “But when you are at the first … station, I suppose … I would come to you and teach you.”

  Both Raszagal and Jake stared at the executor. “What?” Jake managed.

  “We can take all the precautions we like,” Adun said, “but there is still the chance they will be discovered. I cannot permit that to happen. The … the fugitives need to be able to cover themselves. To … hide.”

  The word was enveloped with distaste. The templar were noble. They fought well, and proudly, and openly. Falsifying deaths in the first place was bad enough. Hiding the dark templar was difficult to rationalize. But teaching them mental disciplines that they might better avoid detections …

  “They could use such skills as weapons,” Jake pointed out, his thoughts directed solely at Adun. “They could become a great danger!”

  “Vetraas, my old friend,” Adun replied, including both Vetraas and Raszagal in his thoughts, “if I believed for a moment that they would be a danger, Raszagal would be lying on the floor. If we would help them, we must trust them.”

  Raszagal’s eyes were wide with astonishment. Then, to Jake’s surprise, she strode up to the tall, powerful executor and dropped gracefully to one knee. She lifted the hem of his robe and pressed it to her forehead.

  “Such compassion—I will never, ever forget. I will be a diligent student. And I will do as you ask, noble executor, as I am certain we all will. We will put our knowledge toward keeping ourselves safe. To merging with the shadows, unseen. And when the time is right, we will joyfully reunite with our brethren, for it was never our will to be in opposition to them.” />
  Jake woke up from the dream of Adun to find himself drenched in sweat and shaking. It was the heat, surely, that and the stress of dealing with Alzadar and Rosemary. The dream itself had been profoundly moving. He had had no idea that Adun had had such an elaborate plan to deal with the dark templar. But he was too hot to integrate it, to mull over it. He sat up and groped for a waterskin, taking care not to disturb Rosemary, who slept deeply beside him.

  Pain throbbed in his head, and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick. Inside his thoughts, he felt Zamara stir uneasily. Overheated, shaking, faint, in pain, Jake mentally cornered the protoss with whom he shared a body and demanded, I’ve had enough of this, Zamara. What the hell is going on?

  For a long moment, she did not reply. He clutched at his head, wishing for just a nanosecond that he could tear it off. The pain from that would have to have been less.

  Oh, Jacob, and there was an infinite tenderness as she brushed his thoughts, like a mother with a beloved child. Fear rose in him. I am so, so sorry. I had hoped … I was wrong.

  Tell me.

  Again, that awful, terrifying hesitation, that dreadful compassion and affection.

  I did everything I could, when I reshaped your brain to handle the memories a preserver must manage. I did only what was absolutely necessary, in the least invasive way possible. I had thought there was a way to do so that would grant harmony to both of our presences in your body. It is not something that preservers know how to do. It is not something … any protoss has ever done. I used the energies of the temple to aid me, and I thought I had succeeded.

  Jake waited, his body tense, not daring to breathe, praying she wasn’t going to say what he knew she would. Beside him, Rosemary stirred, stretched, and sat up, knuckling sleep out of her eyes and regarding him curiously.

  But … I was wrong. Your brain is able to bear these burdens only so long. Unless somehow my presence is removed and the strain eliminated….

  “I’m going to die,” Jake finished.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “WHAT?” ROSEMARY’S OUTBURST WAS MORE angry than anything else and the hand that shot out to close on his arm was strong. “What the hell is Zamara telling you?”

  His arm hurt from where she dug her fingers into his flesh, but it was a good pain. He gestured that she remain silent. Zamara had much more to impart.

  You—you said something. … Is there any chance?

  It is my presence and the volume of the memories that is harming you, Zamara said, the words paining her. In order for your brain to handle this knowledge, cells must be altered. And these alterations have caused a brain tumor. The longer I am present, the more cells are altered. The reason I was so adamant about getting into the chambers is that the crystals there might aid in removing me from your body.

  You—can do that? Just—download yourself into a crystal?

  The dark templar have no preservers. But I am given to understand that they still keep the memories of what has gone before. Not in the same way, of course—but if they can store memories in khaydarin crystals, perhaps they can house me and the memories and knowledge I bear. The crystals in that chamber are the purest I have heard tell of. If we can retrieve one, or a fragment of one, and take it with us to Shakuras, perhaps one of the dark templar can accomplish the goal in time. Presently I believe the tumor could be treated effectively. But if it continues much longer, the damage will be irreversible.

  Comprehension dawned. That’s why you wanted to go to Aiur rather than straight to Shakuras, Jake said. We had to detour here so you could—could try to save me.

  Yes.

  “Jake …” Rosemary was looking up at him, her raven’s wing brows knitted together, her full lips downturned in a frown.

  I will be fully honest with you, Jacob. It … may already be too late. But we will try. I truly regret this turn of events. But the information I bear necessitated dire measures.

  Stunned disbelief suddenly gave way to fury. Damn it, Zamara! You keep telling me this information is worth dying for. I know you died for it. You were willing to let dozens of innocent people die for it. Hell, maybe I’d be willing to die for it too—but you won’t let me know what it is! You have no right to do this to me. I thought—

  He thought they were friends.

  Now she let him sense her pain, washing over him. It was her grief that stung his eyes with tears, not his own fear.

  Yes, Jacob. Yes. We are. That is why I am doing everything I can to both preserve this knowledge and get you to safety. You must understand us before you can understand this secret. And if you do not know it yourself yet—as Jacob Ramsey—then the secret is safe still. If you know this, if I reveal it to you—someone would be able to extract it from your memory.

  You know it, Jake shot back. Wouldn’t someone be able to extract the information already?

  And then the slightly sickening thought came, wordless and starkly true: Zamara would kill them both before that happened.

  I see.

  He took a deep breath, disentangling himself from both Zamara’s very real regret and her implacable, almost brutal resolve, and turned to Rosemary. The conversation between Zamara and him had been private; none of the other protoss had sensed it. He would share the information with them in a moment, but he wanted Rosemary to know first.

  Quietly, calmly, he explained what had happened, using good old English, not thoughts. He was not as frightened as he thought he’d be. He was angry and frustrated and saddened, and all that and more crept into his voice as he spoke. Rosemary kept her hand on his arm, and her face didn’t change expression as she listened. Finally, she released his arm and got to her feet. Purposefully she strode to their weapons cache and began to examine them.

  “We get you in there today, and then we haul ass to get off this planet,” she said bluntly. She didn’t look up at him for a moment, and when she finally did, her blue eyes were burning with intensity.

  “You don’t get to die.” She slammed the chamber into place on the rifle. “Not on my watch.”

  Jake was not prepared for the outpouring of concern and affection that washed over him when he told Those Who Endure. Part of it, of course, was worry for the continued existence of their preserver. He shared that worry. But there was also genuine sympathy and grief for him, Jacob Jefferson Ramsey, emanating from the minds of the protoss who surrounded him. It was almost too much to bear.

  “I … I thank you. But I’m hopeful that Zamara’s plan will work. She’s not let me down yet.”

  “We all share that hope, Jacob,” said Ladranix. “But now it is imperative that we move quickly. With Alzadar gone, the Forged will be on high alert.”

  Alzadar nodded. “There will be guards stationed, certainly. And since they do not know what has happened to me—it is doubtful they will settle for attempting to drive you off or capture you.”

  Jake noted the usage of “you,” not “us.”

  Ladranix looked stoic. “Then we die, proudly, for what we believe in.”

  “No, wait,” Jake interrupted. “We don’t have to go in the main entrance, ringing the doorbell.”

  While he was pretty sure protoss didn’t ring doorbells, they immediately understood the metaphor’s meaning. “What do you suggest?” Ladranix asked.

  Jake smiled despite the pain in his head. “I know a back entrance.”

  Rosemary met his eyes and grinned. She knew exactly what he was planning.

  “So, we’re following in the tracks of Temlaa, then,” she said.

  “And Khas,” Jake said.

  “Him too. I always liked Temlaa better.”

  The protoss within range of Jake’s thoughts stared at him.

  “Khas?” said Ladranix. “Of course … preservers have the memory of all protoss. You would have Khas’s memories.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “But for some reason Zamara had me live those moments through Temlaa’s eyes, not those of Khas.”

  Why’d you do it th
at way anyway?

  Because the lessons learned by Savassan—by Khas—are not the ones that are important for you to understand. You do not need to learn as a mystic learns, Jacob. You need to learn as an ordinary protoss does. You needed to learn as the student, not the teacher.

  He supposed that made sense.

  “Khas and his friend and apprentice Temlaa were the ones who discovered the chambers in the first place, back during the Aeon of Strife,” Jake continued. “They figured out some sort of puzzle in order to enter. With any luck that … security system, I guess, is still in place and the Forged got in through the main entrance.”

  “It is so,” Alzadar confirmed. “I know nothing of any other way to enter the chambers.”

  “I cannot imagine that they would have been able to figure out a puzzle they did not even know existed,” Ladranix said. “And this world, like all worlds must, has changed greatly over time. But there is one way to find out.”

  It took some time to hammer out all the details. Then the protoss began to break camp. If the gamble succeeded, they would be leaving Aiur forever. If it failed … then Those Who Endure would not be alive to worry about such things as camp. Jake and Rosemary helped, until finally, with only three functional vessels—and small ones at that—they were ready to depart.

  The remaining templar and all the khalai who had shown promise in combat would accompany Jake, Zamara, and Rosemary to the chambers. Other khalai would go ahead to the warp gate and clear it of any zerg in the area. The rest—children and those who for various reasons could not fight as well as the others—would stay here, waiting to be ferried to the warp gate in waves. Eventually, all the Shel’na Kryhas would rendezvous at the warp gate. Zamara—hopefully—would be able to reactivate it, and they could all depart.

  They were all, not surprisingly, stoic and in good spirits. No one held the cloud of failure in his or her heart. Jake found it very uplifting. All thoughts were quiet and focused as he and Rosemary entered the by-now-familiar little craft and settled in.