0642940001337283373 wind demon 03

by evil wind

  "Admiral?” Belvoir questioned. “Do you want to bury her here?"

  Kahn shook his head. “Not in this barren place,” he said and slid his other arm beneath Sejm's legs. He struggled to his feet, holding her. “We will take her home."

  Lares Taborn's dark face creased. “Home where, Kahn?"

  "To Chale,” Kahn replied. “It is on our way."

  "But why would Cree go on to Rysalia Prime now?” Taborn questioned. “If he has control of the ship, why did he not return to Terra?"

  "He had his reasons and I imagine they have something to do with his bloodkin,” Kahn said. “I told Bridget we would bring him home and by the gods I will!” He turned with Sejm. “One way or another, I will bring him home!"

  Chapter Ten

  Behind the black marble coping, six graves lay beneath shining black marble slabs. A fresh grave had been carved into the lush green grass that matted the burial plot on the hill of Seacht Claíomhs . Six names had been chiseled into the black marble stones: Analeis, Ciara, Edana, Leila, Nuala, and Raicheal.

  One more name would need to be added when the seventh stone slab had been laid over Hael Sejm's grave.

  "Why did she take the name Sejm?” McGregor asked Kahn.

  Kahn shrugged. “I never knew. Perhaps it was her mother's maiden name."

  "That could not be,” Lares Taborn put in. “King Rian Brell was married to Celeste Wynth of the royal house of Oceania. She was the mother of the Seven Sisters of the Sword."

  "Then I can't begin to guess why she chose the name Sejm. She never Joined with any man I knew of,” Kahn said. He ran a hand over his sweaty face for him—and him, alone—had dug his surrogate mother's grave, refusing the help of the men standing with him.

  "We'd best be going before someone comes to investigate,” McGregor said. He felt eyes staring at him and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

  "They know we're here,” Kahn said softly. “They'll wait until we leave before they come to say the Slán , the final farewell, for the last Daughter of Brell brought home."

  Taborn swept his hooded dark gaze over the forests surrounding them. He, too, felt eyes watching his every move and it unnerved him. Although Chale was not allied with Rysalia, they were men, and men were not welcome in this most hallowed spot on Chalean soil.

  "Hesar,” Kahn said, touching the vid-com at his wrist, “transport McGregor and Taborn to the ship."

  "You must come with us!” Lares insisted.

  "I will be along shortly,” Kahn said. “Give me a moment alone with her."

  Though Lares would have protested, McGregor laid a hand on Taborn's shoulder and shook his head, warning the dark man not to interfere.

  Alone on the emerald hill, Kahn hunkered down and reached out to grab a handful of the rich black soil that was mounded over his surrogate mother's grave. He let the dirt drift through his fingers as he said his own Slán to Hael Sejm.

  "You are home, Mother,” he said. “May you find comfort in the arms of your sisters."

  "May the Wind be always at your back, son of Hael,” a voice drifted with the blessing from the copse behind the cemetery.

  He hung his head for a moment then got to his feet. “I'm ready, Hesar,” he told the waiting Keeper. As he felt the shift of the retrieval beam passing over him, he wondered what Hael would say to Analeis—Kamerone's mother—when they met in the Shadowlands.

  As the Vortex sped away from the green hills of Chale, Kahn sat in the command chair, his thoughts of Bridget, and the man he had come to think of as a brother. “What the hell are you doing, Cree?” he whispered. “What have you gotten yourself into now?"

  Part Three

  Chapter Eleven

  The shackles were too tight around the wrists of Kamerone Cree. Binding his arms behind him, the titanium bands were cutting off his circulation and he flexed his fingers, grimacing.

  "Too tight?” Major Akkadia Kahmal inquired.

  "Aye, but if you loosen them, someone will think you've been coddling me,” the Prime Reaper replied.

  "I have been coddling you, Reaper,” Kahmal quipped with a twitch of her lips. “We all have."

  Cree sighed. “I believe my pampering will be at an end in a few moments."

  Three months after leaving Terra, the LRC Alluvia had reached its destination and those onboard were nervous as the craft settled on the visiting official's pad, including the man who had been deemed the most wanted in the megaverse. On the long-range cruiser's wide vid-com screen they saw the image of hundreds of women assembled before the Titaness, the powerful symbol of authority for the Daughters of the Multitude, and it obvious those women were there awaiting the appearance of Major Kahmal's prisoner.

  "The Prophetess-Mother, Herself, is leading the delegation of Elders,” Lt. Augeania Deon reported.

  “She is in full ceremonial garb."

  "By the goddess, she even has the Labrys clutched in her meaty paw,” Lt. Cedilla Tyrian observed.

  "Who is that woman standing beside her as Auxiliary Prophetess?” Lt. Cirolia Sern inquired.

  "Isn't that the Chrystallusian scientist, Dr.LeJong Kym?” Lt. Melankhoia Chanz questioned. “The one who developed the virus that killed the men of Rysalia Prime?"

  Kamerone Cree's eyes narrowed and he turned his attention to the vid-com screen and the face of the woman being discussed. He remembered her well from before the rebellion. She had not inoculated him as she had many others—his father included—thus sparing his life. He owed her a debt of gratitude.

  “Aye, that's Kym,” he replied.

  "She's certainly come up in the world,” Dorrie snarled.

  "Unfortunately over the dead bodies of thousands of men,” Cree said quietly.

  Melankhoia Chanz put a hand to Cree’ shoulder. “I checked with my sister who is a wardress in the Titaness. I am told there are ten Reapers being held for execution on the Feast a month from now.” She caressed his shoulder. “Four are sons of yours."

  Cree flinched and briefly shut his eyes. “Your goddess has sworn to me I will be able to take my Reapers and leave this world. I have to believe She told the truth."

  "We'll do everything we can to help,” Chanz told him then stepped back.

  "So will I, Reaper,” Zainabu swore. She looked at Sanchez and Ramirez.

  "Aye!” the women said in unison, staying as far away from the Reaper as space would allow.

  "I think you need to go out there first, Kahmal,” Dorrie Burkhart suggested, her cornflower blue eyes worried. “To prepare them."

  "Dorrie's right,” Cirolia Sern agreed. “They'll want to present you with the Medal of Valor for bringing Cree back. It would be a good time to tell them about the Attribution."

  "You are right,” the Major of the Amazeen Elite Strike Force replied. “We need to make gods-be-damned sure they don't fall on him and rip him to pieces before we even get him before the Council of Elders."

  "Whatever you're going to do will you get on with it?” Cree snapped. “I'm losing feeling in my hands."

  "Nag, nag, nag,” Dorrie said on a long sigh. “That's all you ever do, Kam."

  The Reaper cocked a brow at her for she was standing beside him, her arms in restraints as well.

  “Obviously your shackles aren't as tight as mine, you little bitch."

  "I'm not the object of an entire planet's rage, either,” Dorrie said smugly, batting her eyelashes at him.

  "You know,” Sern said, “they don't seem all that angry to me. Just eager to get a look at the infamous Iceman."

  Cree growled at Sern, hating that nickname.

  "Down, boy,” Sern said with a laugh. “No offense meant.

  "Let's hope a look is all they want,” Kahmal said. She straightened her dress tunic, flipped her long red braid behind her, and nodded to Lt. Renata Aegean to open the airlock.

  There was a loud roar as the Amazeen Major stepped out of the Alluvia . Applause broke out and from the sweep of the ship's vid-com cameras about the assembled wo
men, it was obvious those in charge were having a hard time maintaining order. Women were pushing against those in front of them—all vying for a good position from which to view what was happening. It took a long time before the noise died down, the women at the back of the crowd finally realizing the Major was holding her hand up for silence.

  "Daughters!” Kahmal called out. “I greet you in the name of peace!"

  "Peace!” the crowd yelled.

  "I greet you in the name of the Fruitful Mother of us all Who has allowed me—Her unworthy Daughter—to fulfill the mission I was given!"

  Another loud roar went up and the applause and stamping of feet was deafening.

  "I believe the little darlings are happy to know ‘Kadia has me in tow,” Cree grumbled.

  Kahmal held her hand up once more and kept it raised until the crowd subsided and those inside the ship could have heard a pin drop.

  "On our mission, we lost two of our own,” Kahmal said and before she could go on, the crowd booed.

  "Murderer! Rapist! Befouler!” those assembled cursed.

  "Why don't they really tell us how they feel about me?” Cree quipped.

  "Who've you been raping that we don't know about, Cree?” Dorrie inquired.

  "And who did he befoul?” Sern joked.

  It was all Kahmal could do to quiet the crowd. “Listen to me Daughters!” she called out. “For I must tell you that Dr. Hael Sejm and Captain Thalia Chakai were lost to us—not at the hands of our prisoner—but from a ghoret's bite on Montyne Vex."

  Shocked intakes of breath waved through the crowd and the faces of the women turned pale. Ghorets were the deadliest creatures in the megaverse. Not a woman there did not fear the silver-and-green viper.

  "Captain Chakai was bitten by the vile creature and Dr. Sejm died trying to ease the captain's suffering, having been splattered with venom as she cared for the captain."

  "Better the Reaper than Captain Chakai!” someone in the crowd shouted and the women roared their agreement. When the women realized Major Kahmal had more to say, the ruckus died down.

  "The viper that struck the captain struck for me, as well,” Kahmal told the crowd, “but my life was saved by the Reaper."

  Not a single gasp was heard throughout the crowd. The women had gone as still as death for every one among them understood the implication of what the Major had just imparted.

  "That shut them up,” Dorrie commented.

  "The Act was repeated twice more when both Lieutenants Melankhoia Chanz and Cirolla Sern almost blundered over a steep embankment during a blizzard on the Vex. Had not the Reaper intervened, both Daughters would have fallen three hundred feet to their deaths."

  A solitary voice somewhere in the middle of the crowd spoke the word aloud—Attribution. Another repeated it. Still another and another and another until Kahmal once more asked for silence.

  "You may ask yourself why the Reaper did this."

  Women were nodding. Some wore looks of concern on their faces while others appeared shocked to the core of their beings.

  "I asked the Reaper why he saved my life and called down upon him untold agony he knew he would suffer from the bite of the ghoret. I asked why he had saved the lives of Chanz and Sern and this was his explanation."

  ” ‘The beast within me wanted each of you to go to your deaths but the human part of me that had been awakened by Bridget's love would not allow me to stand by and watch you women die.’” Complete silence filled the crowd. Not a single woman moved.

  Major Akkadia Kahmal lifted her chin. “Attribution is a time-honored custom of the Amazeen that had not been invoked for as long as I have drawn breath. I never expected to see it happen and never would I have dreamed I would one day be the recipient of this unselfish act perpetrated by a male—a Reaper male at that. Nor would I ever have entertained the notion that he would save not one female life but three."

  The Prophetess-Mother had heard all she cared to hear and stepped forward, the Labrys of her office clutched tightly in her hand. The double headed ritual axe glinted lethally in the bright sunlight. “Are you telling us Attribution has been declared by this male?” she snarled.

  The Major bowed gracefully to the Prophetess-Mother. “Nay, Your Eminence. He did not know of the custom until I told him of it. It was Lieutenants Sern, Chanz and I who declared the act.” She placed her fist against her heart. “Our lives now belong to him."

  "Where are these other women?” Cyle Acet, the Prophetess-Mother demanded.

  "It's show time, ladies,” Dorrie told Chanz and Sern.

  Also clothed in their dress uniforms, the two lieutenants exited the ship. They stopped just behind the Major and stood rigidly at attention.

  Taking a step closer, the Prophetess-Mother swept her infuriated glare over the women. “Do you uphold what your commanding officer has relayed to us? Does she speak the truth?"

  In unison, Chanz and Sern stated that it was so.

  Dorrie was watching the diminutive Chrystallusian woman standing on the dais of power behind the Prophetess-Mother. LeJong Kym seemed relieved, her eyes closed, her lips moving silently in what Dorrie realized must be a prayer. “Well you have at least one woman out there who's happy you won't be sent to the blade, Kam,” she said.

  The Prophetess-Mother drew herself up. “You realize this male has been condemned to death by the Council of Elders, do you not, Major Kahmal?"

  "We know it to be so, Your Eminence, but that was before his unselfish act which saved our lives. We have given him our word as honorable Daughters that his life will not be forfeit."

  "He was tried and found guilty of numerous crimes against womanhood,” the leader of the Multitude continued. “His death sentence was unanimous!"

  "It's nice to know I didn't cause any dissension among the Elders,” Cree scoffed.

  "And the Reaper fully accepted what was to be his fate, Your Eminence,” Kahmal replied.

  There were low murmurs among the crowd and Cyle Acet made a mistake for which she would never forgive herself. “He accepted he was to die?” she asked.

  Kahmal nodded. “His exact words to me were ‘I have no life without my lady. I have no desire to live without her so do whatever you want with me. Without my lady I am a walking corpse. Put me out of my misery.’”

  There were loud sighs from the assemblage of women.

  "Damn, she's good,” Cree whispered. “Did I really say that?"

  "Aye,” Lt. Augenia Deon replied. “You did."

  "Huh,” Cree grunted.

  "He must be punished!” the Prophetess-Mother shouted for she had heard sighs coming from the crowd and had turned to see the eyes of women close to her sparkling with unshed tears.

  "What worse punishment can we hand him than an eternal separation from his beloved Bridget?” LeJong Kym inquired. She took a step forward. “Am I correct in assuming Dr. Sejm tortured the Reaper while he was in her hands?"

  "Brutally and at length,” the Major stated.

  LeJong Kym shook her head. “She was not given permission to do that."

  Every eye in the plaza swung to the Prophetess-Mother. Under the laws of the Multitude, she was required to uphold the debt of honor undertaken by the three women from the Alluvia. To do anything else would bring shame upon the Daughters of the Multitude.

  "She doesn't look too happy about what she's going to have to do, does she?” Dorrie quipped.

  "That's because she wanted my ass in the worst way,” Cree said with a snort.

  "So do I,” Dorrie reminded him.

  "Aye, but not for the same reason,” the Reaper acknowledged with a grin.

  Cyle Acet was livid. She was shaking from the anger that had gripped her for she had been placed in a position from which there was no respectable retreat, no possible way out. There could be but one ending to this and the knowledge galled her.

  "Once more, it seems, the Reaper has escaped his rightful fate,” the Prophetess-Mother declared. “I have no choice but to grant him hi
s life but I draw the line at giving the beast his freedom.” She cocked her chin toward the cage where over a year before Cree's cousins had been burned alive. “That will be his home from this day forward! Caged like the animal he is!"

  "Oh, for joy,” Cree said. He shrugged his brawny shoulders. “Just what I wanted—a concrete slab and bars out in the open where every woman on Rysalia Prime can come by and spit at me."

  "You knew they were going to put you there,” Lt. Cedilla Tyrian said. “The goddess willing it won't be for long."

  "If any woman other than Her Eminence dares to spit on you, it would surprise the hell out of me,” Aegean said.

  "There's not a woman out there who doesn't know you risked your life to help them gain their freedom,” Dorrie snapped. “Without you, they might still be beneath the yoke of the Empire. They also know all you wanted was to be able to take Bridget and leave this godforsaken planet."

  "That may be true, Dorrie, but they still wanted me dead,” he said quietly. “My bloodcousins helped the rebellion, too, but you see what happened to them. The Daughters didn't think twice about murdering those men.” He stared at the cage where Kullen, Tohre, Coure, Belial, Kiel, and Gehdrin had perished.

  He fancied he could still hear their agonized screams.

  "She's calling for him to be brought out,” Sern said as she came back into the ship. She took hold of his right arm and Tyrian took his left. “Ready?"

  He nodded. “As I'm ever going to be."

  They walked him out of the ship and into the bright glare of the morning sun. He squinted against the glare, his amber eyes narrowed. If the women of Rysalia Prime expected to see a man who had been driven to his knees, they did not get their wish. The man who was brought out of the ship that day held his head high, his shoulders back, his face as steady and emotionless as a statue's. Dressed in a dark green jumpsuit provided for him by the Major, it was the first time any woman there had seen a Reaper dressed in anything save the infamous black uniform that was their trademark.