Zion had no doubt they were about to meet Amidurah. A strange sense of excitement filled him. One way or another, the outcome of his and Keely’s lives and the fate of Atlantis were about to be decided.
A half-hour later, Sean turned north onto a narrower road.
Every rotation of the jet bike’s tires jarred Zion, the vibrations further agitating his taut muscles. Thankfully, the annoyance lasted only a few minutes.
Sean pulled to a stop near a five-meter high red stone fence capped with wrought iron spikes forty centimeters apart. Just past him was a gate worked in the same metal as the spikes. He dismounted, pulled a phaser from his pocket, and backed toward the gate, keeping his gaze trained on Zion.
Once he passed the gate, he spared a glance at the stones before selecting one to push. “We’re here. We’ve brought company.”
“I’ll inform His Grace,” a disembodied voice responded.
Great. How many people were in this new refuge of Amidurah? He’d thought he would work on the strategy of divide and conquer, but the success of the plan ultimately depended on the numbers. Two, one out of commission, faced an unknown quantity.
If need be, he was adaptable. He’d recalculate the risk and adjust accordingly. If all else failed, he’d be impulsive. Spontaneity seemed to throw adversaries off anyway.
“Get off the bike now.” Michael’s voice was nearly inaudible. “Remember who I have.”
As if he’d forget the woman in his enemy’s arms or her importance to the world. Zion shrugged, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel and swung his leg over the seat of the jet bike.
Sean continued to stare at him and kept the weapon aimed directly at Zion’s chest.
Zion returned the glare, staring until he forced Sean to blink and look away momentarily. Good, the law of canines seemed to apply to human men. Sean knew Zion was the dominant male in the current power struggle. As soon as they entered Amidurah’s enclave, Zion would need to reestablish his superiority among the new humans he encountered.
A high-pitched grating sound came from the gate. Zion inhaled deeply and fought to keep his hands from covering his ears at the irritating sound.
Sean motioned with a nod of his head for Zion to move toward the entrance.
He did as indicated. In front of him were two more men, easily the size of Sean, perhaps larger. Each man held a weapon reminiscent of the automatic machine guns he’d read about in ancient history class. If they held equally volatile projectiles fired at a similar rate Zion knew he’d not be able prevent damage to his body.
No, rushing the men with the deadly old weapons was not pragmatic. He’d have to wait until he found a way to disarm his opposition and even the odds some.
The men flanked him as he walked toward a rather plain looking two-story dwelling. Sean followed close behind him, prodding Zion along with a poke in the back. Zion knew Michael carried Keely and he could hear an occasional word Sean and Michael whispered back and forth to one another.
In front of him, Zion watched a bright green door open. No welcoming light spilled forth onto the stoop. Stepping through the doorway and into the dark hall, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust.
The hallway wasn’t long, perhaps fifteen meters, but on each side of the narrow entrance were five men. That meant a minimum of fourteen soldiers to dispatch. Based on what he’d seen, Zion calculated there were several more fighters scattered throughout the building.
They turned to the left and halted at a pair of white doors. One of the men rapped on the doorframe. A slender shaft of light flashed in the wall to the side of the frame. A moment later, the white doors slid apart into recesses within the walls. At the far end of the room, a brown haired man sat in a deep red, wing-backed chair. A settee sat to the left of him, an antique wooden buffet laden with food was to the unassuming man’s right.
Zion frowned. Amidurah was supposed to be as old as his father. This man, who looked to be in his mid forties, didn’t show near the age Poseidon did and revealed no outward sign of weakness Zion could discern. He and Keely were in for a serious battle.
Michael’s voice held a note of pride. “Your Grace, we’ve the woman you seek.”
Amidurah’s dark eyes appeared to take in the group before honing in on Michael and Keely. “Bring her forward.”
Straightening his back, Michael strode forward. Keely’s hair covered one arm and her legs draped over the other.
A soothing, calm voice permeated the room. “What was the weapon set on?”
“The strongest stun, Your Grace. This woman has proved problematic in the past. She downed two of our best soldiers.”
Amidurah frowned and kept silent. He steepled his fingers and appeared deep in thought. Long seconds slipped by before he finally tsked. “Is that anyway to treat a lady?”
Michael shook his head.
Careful not to stare directly at Amidurah, Zion watched the exchange between the two. The aged sorcerer was unhappy with Michael’s recent performance. The ancient man’s reaction bode well for Keely. She wouldn’t be harmed...yet.
The time to challenge Amidurah hadn’t arrived. He’d let the situation with Michael develop naturally. If it went as Zion hoped, there would be one less human to deal with.
“Put the woman on the couch.”
Michael hurried to fulfill his master’s bidding. He stumbled over his own feet as he rushed to put Keely down.
Zion started and moved to aid Keely. One of the soldiers standing near blocked his attempt and another restrained Zion with a pull on his arm. He shrugged off the feeble attempt to hold him back and reluctantly resumed his position in front of Amidurah.
Amidurah’s calm voice floated toward Zion. “You bear affection for the woman?”
Zion stiffened. The words were surface dressing. Underneath, Zion felt the power of the sorcerer trying to fathom who he was. Casually, he strengthened his mental acuity and prepared for the repeat of such subtle tactics. Keely would have a much harder time deflecting the subliminal probes Amidurah was capable of.
He couldn’t keep his eyes downcast to play the part of a humbled captive. It was as foreign to his nature as living above the water long term. Zion opted for a conciliatory tone in his voice. “I do. Her name is Keely.”
“Yes, I know.” Amidurah paused and bestowed a cold smile on Zion. “Her research with dolphins is of particular importance to me.”
He stopped again and this time scowled. “Yes, many will rally to me because of her and the just punishment I mete out to her on behalf of my lieutenant. Murderers will be dealt with swiftly and harshly in my New World Order, a fact that will comfort many.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Keely was aware of everything going on about her. Unable to speak, paralyzed by the phaser wielded by Sean, she relied primarily on auditory input; her visual acuity limited to activity directly in front of her eyes. Based on her inability to move, her aggressor must have had the weapon on the highest stun intensity.
She’d read a VDU dispatch about the stunner used on her. The weapon had been developed to paralyze major muscle groups without harming essential life functions. Time and industrious weapons researchers had honed the effects and their duration. It could take hours for the zapped nerves to restore complete function to arms and legs.
Watching the treetops had allowed her to be conscious of the bouncing on the roads her escort followed, but Keely hadn’t felt a thing. The experience alone was disconcerting. Combined with Amidurah’s most recent pronouncement fear filled her. In her current condition, she could think of no way to fight him.
Zion’s words came to her, soothing, despite their content. “What would such a punishment require as penance?”
Amidurah laughed. The insidious sound did nothing to ease her worries. She wished she could turn and read the body language of the two men who discussed her as if she weren’t capable of thought.
“An eye for an eye, of course.”
Dear Domnu, what did the man ref
er to?
The fear in Zion’s voice alarmed her. The meaning of Amidurah’s words meant something to him. “You jest. You must.”
“The ancient Hebrews understood the power of evil and the potential results of letting crime go unpunished. Had Earth’s societies understood this principal and meted out just penalties to match the severity of the crimes committed, perhaps the world wouldn’t have gotten into such a bind. What sort of leader would I be to allow the death of Stephen Doubilet to go unpunished? The man’s very soul cries out for justice.”
Zion’s voice rippled through the air, a sense of sternness bolstering his words. “What is your intent?”
“Simply that she dies the way Doubilet did. An eye for an eye, after all, needs not only the same net outcome, but a similar causation to achieve the result.”
She remembered the sickening thud of his head smashing into the tree. How did Doubilet actually die? Was it from the blow his head took when he landed against the tree, or did he drown when the waters rose up and protected her? Domnu, please let him have drowned.
“Our tête-à-tête is complete. Take Ms. Shane upstairs to the bedroom. I’ll send Mercy up to prepare her for the evening’s festivities shortly. Interrogate her accomplice in the back room. Find out what he knows about Ms. Shane’s abilities as she’s rather unable to speak for herself right now.”
Keely heard a grunted reply. A moment later, Sean lifted her legs by the ankle. Michael’s face leered down at her and she experienced the weight of her body swinging between the two men.
She wanted to scream “What festivities?” but nothing came out of her mouth.
Then she heard the sounds of a scuffle and Zion’s hoarse words, encouraging yet impossible. “I’ll save you Keely. Count on it.”
*****
The bedroom itself, from what Keely could see, was masculine looking. Dark browns accented the frames of the closet, door, and windows. An old painting of men slaying bison with spears took up the majority of the space on one ivory wall. Nondescript, tan curtains hung in the windows.
The frame holding the mattress, covered with a deep green coverlet, was made of wood, making it an artifact of great value. Sean and Michael deposited her on the king-sized piece of furniture and quickly disappeared.
On the bed, Keely had only her thoughts for company. Time slowed as she waited and wondered what Amidurah meant by “festivities?” Did he refer to her punishment?
Where had he taken Zion? She should have known a sorcerer with thirty-five hundred years of life experience to guide him would have known to split them up. A cord was made of interwoven strands. Separate the strands and the cord was weakened.
If Amidurah hoped to undermine her by taking Zion from her side, he was in for a shocker. Once the ability to move returned she’d make quick work of the ancient man, find Zion, and send word to Denton that Amidurah was handled.
The door slid open with a loud whoosh. A moment later, a woman’s face came into view. “I’m Mercy. His Grace sent me to you to prepare you for the...” the woman hesitated. “Festivities tonight.”
Keely heard a loud snap. A large white sheet fluttered to the bed next to her, and then Mercy rolled Keely onto her side. The woman guided Keely’s head and turned it so she wouldn’t be face down when she was on her stomach.
“There now, Ms. Shane. I’ll be getting your jumpsuit off you so I can give you a proper rub with essential oils. You must be able to stand on the platform. His Grace would be most disappointed should you be less than in perfect condition for the evening’s ceremony.”
Keely first heard the squeal and distinctive click of scissors. The ripping of fabric came next. Mercy continued to prattle about this oil and that herb and from the sound of containers being opened and closed knew Mercy applied those same oils to her back.
No doubt, after a stressful day on the coast, a massage like the one she imagined Mercy gave her would be welcome.
“I’ll be working your arms and legs next miss. If you ask me, those stunners are a nasty bit of work. Very hard on the system you know. Bodies weren’t made to take those sorts of electrical charges.”
Mercy picked up Keely’s arm. “See if you can wiggle your fingers now. Hands seem to come back first. I’m not sure why, perhaps because we use them so much.”
Keely attempted to flex her fingers. She imagined energy flowing from her center, down her arm and into her digits, conveying the message to move.
“Why there you go, Miss. I saw a twitch of movement. Keep on trying.”
Keely concentrated on the visualization once more. Mercy held her hand in such a way Keely could see her appendage in her peripheral vision. Tiny pinpricks of feeling flooded her fingertips and sent messages of pain to her brain.
“Very good, Miss Shane. I’ll be turning you over now so I can work your shoulders and the top of your thighs. Why don’t you see if you can move your neck and watch me?”
Keely saw her view of the walls change to that of the ceiling. Reaching across Keely, Mercy unzipped Keely’s jumpsuit and pulled the remnants from her body.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t have much choice. It’s hard enough to roll you without trying to bend your arms to get them out of the clothes.”
A white terry towel flitted down to cover Keely’s chest and waist.
“His Grace prefers a woman to be hairless.”
Keely’s mind raced thinking of the implications. Did Amidurah intend to have sex with her before he enacted his death sentence? A new odor teased Keely’s nostrils. Melting wax, like that of the candles her mother kept around for emergencies.
Damn! At least she wouldn’t be able to feel the hair being ripped from her body.
The efficiency Mercy displayed in ridding Keely of fuzz amazed her. By the end, though, Keely felt the warm wax, the pulls, and the momentary sting that accompanied the action.
The sensation signaled one thing. The effects of the phaser were wearing off and she’d soon have control of her muscles again.
She attempted to turn her head and succeeded. The vertebrae in her neck popped. Domnu, it felt great to move. She wiggled her lips, let the sensations return, and opened her mouth, too. She actually felt a swallow. “Could I trouble you for some water?”
Mercy dropped Keely’s leg. “Oh, Miss, that’s wonderful.”
Keely watched the woman open the closet with a press of her palm against a camouflaged pad. Concealed inside was a silver colored container like the refrigerator at the Castle. Mercy reached inside, turned around, and grasping a bottle returned to Keely.
Pushing back on her arms, Keely struggled to get into a semi-reclining position. Attempting to clutch the towel covering her, she watched it drop into her lap. Her fingers worked together as one unit as if they’d been welded together and she couldn’t retrieve the minute bit of modesty she’d been given. Coordination was a real problem.
Blood rushed to her face, warming her cheeks with her embarrassment. Always a private person, Keely had never revealed her nakedness to another woman since her childhood.
Mercy held a biodegradable bottle, dripping with condensation, to Keely’s lips. The cool water refreshed her parched throat. Drops of chilly water trickled onto her breast, a nearly painful shock. She gulped several swallows of the frigid water.
“There now, Miss Shane, if you ask me you are recovering quite well. I’ll help you to sit, and we’ll get yer dress on.”
Mercy returned to the closet and palmed the pad. The closet door opened wide, revealing far more than the refrigerator. From the rods within hung gowns and dresses of every imaginable hue. From her perch, the bright garments were a dazzling rainbow of colors.
When Mercy turned back toward Keely, she held a long, diaphanous gold gown. The neck was low cut, and one side was slit high. Mercy slipped the sleeveless article of clothing over Keely’s head, manipulating her arms so the gown hung over her breasts. At least she was covered, even if the gown revealed more skin than Keely felt comfortable with.
“Let’s see if you can sit now, Miss Shane. It will be easier to fix your hair sitting at the vanity.”
Keely tried to sit up a bit straighter. Every movement loosened her tight muscles and renewed her strength. With Mercy’s help, Keely began to feel more like herself. Every second the will to fight grew and the ability to do something about her frozen plans thawed.
She should surprise Mercy, hold her hostage, knock her out, but she couldn’t. All Mercy had done was live up to her name. She’d shown Keely nothing but kindness. Hurting her in any way would be slipping to Amidurah’s level. She’d not injure an innocent.
Mercy slipped an arm around Keely’s waist. “Try to let your weight rest on me, Miss. The way I see it, your legs are going to be as wobbly as a newborn colt. Rely on me and we’ll get you doin’ a jig in no time.”
“Thank you, Mercy.” Keely stood and the gown fell gently to her ankles. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She didn’t move, just let Mercy support her weight as she’d suggested. “You certainly seem to know how to handle stunner victims.”
“Aye, Miss. My brother suffered stun injuries. He was employed as a weapons tester.”
“He refined the stunners?”
“Oh no, Miss. He wasn’t educated as well as that. His job was to let the designers test the weapons on him in simulated warfare. The pay was reasonable, but I had to learn massage in order to get him back on the field. He did so hate missing more than a day.”
Mercy’s words had been spoken with a soft respect, as if her brother were no longer a part of her life. A shudder went through Keely at the thought of any person voluntarily being subjected to such physical extremes. Life around her, outside the Castle properties was harder than she’d imagined. “Do you miss him much?”
“Aye, Miss. I do.”
Keely turned her head toward Mercy and she saw a tear trickle down the woman’s face. “I’m sorry, Mercy.”
“It isn’t your fault, Miss. A man’s body just isn’t made to take that sort of abuse.”
Watchtowers : Water Page 17