Circle's End

by Lisanne Norman

  Greaves were clasped on her lower legs, covering the brown leather boots. Bronze armguards covered her wrists and forearms, and on her hands she wore mail gloves, each link smaller than the nail of her tiniest finger.

  But it was the helmet that caught the eye. Resembling the Prime royal crown, it featured the body of one of the raptors that soared in the skies around her capital. This one, the Queen’s crown, was the only feathered bird on K’oish’ik. She’d heard them called L’shol’s crows by the soldiers for their preference to feast on the bodies of the fallen. A fitting crown for an absolute ruler like herself.

  The head of the bird reared threateningly over her brow, emerald eyes glittering, ready to attack any who would wish her harm. Open wings dipped down, cupping her head, protecting her skull, the tips of the blue-and-gold wings almost touching her shoulders. The spread blue tail feathers were angled down to protect the vulnerable back of her neck. It truly was a crown worthy of the Queen of K’oish’ik!

  As soon as she lowered it onto her head, she felt its magic surround her like an all-enveloping cloak. She knew what none suspected, that using the shards of the shell of her firstborn that she’d sacrificed to the mage woman, her crowning helmet was imbued with the magic to turn aside any edged blade wielded against her. The cost of this magic had been great, and the protective fields only extended a hand’s breadth from her body.

  Her servant attached a flowing cloak of the same emerald green, then stood back to allow the Royal armorer to approach and fasten her sword belt. On bended knee, head bowed, he presented her with the royal sword.

  Made of bronze, the hilt was long and decorated with alternating rings of brightly colored enamels and semiprecious stones—turquoise, lapis lazuli, gold, and ivory inlays showed off the bronze blade to perfection.

  She spared a moment to enjoy its beauty before placing it in its scabbard.

  “Majesty, he is calling for you,” bowed Nezaabe, head of her guards and her lover.

  “I am ready,” she said, turning away from the polished bronze mirror. Around her ankles, the cloak swirled like a sea of green.

  “Don’t go, Majesty. It’s a trap,” said Nezaabe. “He’s planning to kill you.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, her boots echoing on the tiled floor as she strode toward the central staircase down to the courtyard. “He can only hurt me if I agree to fight him, and I don’t intend to do that.”

  Nezaabe scrambled to his feet and followed her down to the grand courtyard.

  The crowd was sullen when she emerged, only breaking into half-hearted cheering when forced to do so by the army standing among them and lining the courtyard.

  Carrie moaned uneasily in her sleep, aware she didn’t want to continue her journey into the Prime past.

  Flanked by her bodyguard, Tashraka marched across to the carved stone throne and sat down.

  Until now, she had ignored the male standing facing her from the far side of the courtyard. Now she looked at him. Skin burned almost black by the desert sun, the male Prime was carrying a sword that she, Carrie, recognized only too well.

  “Zsadhi,” she muttered in her sleep, beginning to make small restless movements. “Not the Zsadhi.”

  “You were banished from here,” she heard Tashraka say. “Returning will cost you your life, Zsadhi.”

  “I haven’t come to bandy words with you, Tashraka, I’ve come to challenge you to a duel, one-on-one.” Zsadhi’s voice rang out, filling the courtyard. “Too long have you abused the people of K’oish’ik with your harsh rule. It’s time it was ended, along with you!”

  “I’m not Tashraka, I’m Ishardia, Zsadhi. Your time in the desert has done more than tan your hide black; it’s damaged your eyesight,” said Tashraka.

  “I know all about your foul pact with the sorceress! You traded your first egg for the transformation spell so you could swap bodies with your sister—my wife! You then denounced us as assassins, burning your sister to death and banishing me to the desert. You may have fooled the people, Tashraka, but not me. Now face me in honorable combat!”

  “No! Not that,” moaned Carrie, deep in her nightmare vision.

  The murmuring of the crowd began to resolve itself into a chant, a chant for the Zsadhi. Slowly at first, it quickly gathered momentum until their voices filled the courtyard.

  “Zsadhi! Zsadhi! Zsadhi!” they chanted.

  “Silence!” yelled Tashraka, pushing herself to her feet. “I will not tolerate such insubordination!”

  “Face me in honorable combat, Tashraka,” said Zsadhi, pacing back and forth, swinging his sword to loosen up. “You can’t be afraid of me, I’m only a male, not permitted to fight. What is there to fear?”

  “You shouldn’t even have a sword,” she hissed. “You are an abomination! You were granted too much freedom, and you misused it! I will personally see that you are punished for your presumption! Guards, take him!”

  The chanting grew louder as the people linked arms and prevented the Royal guards from entering the courtyard. The chant changed to one of “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

  Incensed, Tashraka turned to Nezaabe for a brief and intense exchange that ended in her making a cutting motion with her hand and walking angrily away from him and toward the open courtyard.

  Loudly invoking the Goddess of Battle, she drew her sword and held it up at arm’s length, letting the sun’s rays glint golden off the bronze.

  Carrie woke with a jolt and a cry of distress.

  Kusac ran to the tent and pulled the entrance open. “Carrie! What’s the matter? I was worried about you,” he said, going to her side.

  “Just a dream, no need to be concerned,” she said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “I’m fine. A cup of coffee will set me to rights.” She pushed back her sleeping bag and scrambled to her feet. “You worry too much.”

  Kusac followed her out and watched as she headed to the camp kitchen for a hot drink.

  “Something’s up with her,” he said to Kaid. “What’s happened to put her so out of sorts?”

  “I have no idea beyond it’s been a very intense mission for all of us. Maybe it’s getting to her at last,” said Kaid. “Just say good-bye to her and leave it to me to see how she is. Keep it simple between you both right now. You don’t need complications so close to the end of the mission.”

  Kusac nodded, grasping his sword-brother by the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said before heading over to his mate.

  “I have to go now,” he said. “I just came to say good-bye.”

  She turned to look at him, offering a cheek for a kiss. “This should all be over soon, I hope.”

  “I hope so, too,” he said. Her cheek felt cold to his lips. “Good night, love.”

  “Good-bye.”

  Disturbed at her behavior, he still took Kaid’s advice and walked away. Once in the outer cavern, he activated his translocator and was instantly back in his bedroom where Cheelar and M’yikku waited for him.

  “They’ll have a piece acting like a blaster for us to find on the artifact tomorrow,” he said. “We need to keep them from blowing it up as I found out they really could damage some of the weaker parts. I’m betting you’re right and that it’s the webbing that is more fragile.”

  “I think you’re right,” agreed Cheelar.

  “I also found out we need several more days’ grace before K’hedduk decides to blow the damned thing up. A week would be best, but I have no idea how we are going to do that.”

  “Would another mission help?” asked Cheelar. “It would give him something else to obsess over. But what could we do that could top the temple?”

  “The harem,” Kusac heard himself saying. “We’ll hit the harem, leave Zsadhi symbols on the walls, and on the door of his wife’s room. What better way to anger him than to strike at what the people see as his masculinity?”

  M’yikk
u nodded his head vigorously. “Perfect! Trust me, nothing could cause him more embarrassment! But how do we get in and out without being seen?”

  “Annuur and his flickering lights,” said Kusac without even thinking. “It will render them deeply asleep, and when they wake, they’ll have no memory of what happened.”

  “You really hate K’hedduk, don’t you?” said Cheelar quietly.

  “Yes, for what he did to me, to my wife Carrie, and to all the cubs,” said Kusac, his voice as cold as ice.

  “Why don’t you use the flickering lights to take your revenge? Either take him prisoner, or kill him?”

  “Because this is personal,” he said, looking at Cheelar. “Up close and very personal. I will face him when I kill him, so he knows it is me taking my revenge, and no other.”

  He watched Cheelar shiver slightly and smiled, reaching out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Cheelar. My feelings are reserved for K’hedduk alone.”

  CHAPTER 10

  M’zull Palace, later that evening

  ANNUUR sat in Kusac’s reception room, listening to his plan. “It can be done,” he said slowly. “We need Azwokkus to do as you know this is TeLaxaudin skill, not one we have. Will need affect whole Palace to enable you to get there and away unseen. I go check and be back.” Annuur disappeared. Kusac, Cheelar, M’yikku, and Maalash waited with varying degrees of impatience for the Cabbaran to return.

  When he did, it was with Azwokkus. “Can be done, but timing must be specific. Half an hour you have, no more as effect over large area. If area smaller, time longer.”

  “Understood,” said Kusac.

  “Why you do another mission? Thought you were finished.”

  Why was he doing this one? He frowned, trying to remember his reasoning, but he couldn’t. “It seemed right,” he said lamely. “All we have to do is spray the Zsadhi sword and name in the harem, and have me put one stone sword on the wall. In and out.”

  “Be sure you keep it simple,” said Azwokkus. “More complex, more time.”

  “You have transporters,” reminded Annuur. “You can return direct to your rooms rather than have to run through Palace.”

  “Good point,” said Kusac. “I forgot that. We’ll have plenty of time, then.”

  “When you want to go?” asked Annuur.

  “As soon as possible,” said Kusac. “I just need Cheelar to fetch our paints from the mountain den first. Can’t keep any here in case we get searched.”

  “Good thinking,” nodded Azwokkus, head bobbing on his spindly neck. “Go for paints and I get ready to release energy pulse for lighting.”

  Ten minutes later, the lights in the room flickered then flared brightly into incandescence, before falling back to a normal level.

  “Is done,” said Azwokkus as the others behind their darkened glasses all blinked their eyes rapidly, trying to rid themselves of the afterimage. “Set timers and go now.”

  “On our way,” said Kusac, stepping out into the corridor and from there into the underground concourse.

  They made their way hurriedly along the thoroughfare until they reached the Security station. At this time of night, there was only one soldier on duty and he sat frozen in his seat, eyes closed.

  Kusac approached him alone and waved his hand in front of the unconscious male’s face, then gently pushed his arm. Getting no response, he gestured the other three to follow him. They hurried past him and into the large room where supplicants to the Emperor waited on his pleasure before being escorted to the Throne Room.

  Across the main cavern courtyard they went, till they reached the corridor on the northeastern side. This led them to a locked anteroom. A quick kick had the door swinging open. As expected, the room was empty at that time of night. Ahead was another corridor off which was the door to the Emperor’s harem.

  “Twenty minutes,” whispered Cheelar.

  “Noted,” said Kusac. “Through there,” he said, pointing to the heavy door.

  Cheelar was there first. “It’s locked, and a kick won’t open it this time.”

  “Stand back,” ordered Kusac, pulling his blaster and shooting the lock. It disintegrated in a shower of sparks and chips of wood. “We haven’t the time for subtlety,” he said, pushing the door open.

  They found themselves in what appeared to be a communal bedroom, Beds, with mounds where sleepers lay, were set against the wall, the space between each divided by a gauzy curtain. They could see four such beds where they were, but the room, appearing more like a corridor than anything else, extended on either side of where they stood, and they could see more beds at the two junctions. A door ahead of them was partially open, and it was through this that Kusac led them. The air was moist and warm, courtesy of the large pool that dominated this room. Round it, piles of cushions were arranged so that the Emperor’s concubines would be able to bathe at their leisure, then take their ease on them.

  “Fifteen minutes,” said Cheelar.

  “Get moving,” said Kusac. “I want us out in ten!”

  They split up, the other three each taking a wall to spray with the sword symbols and the name Zsadhi.

  Kusac headed to the fourth wall, the eastern one, and placing his hand on it, began to feel for the nature of the stone beneath the plaster. Finding it, he began to manipulate it, turn it plastic so he could shape it into the form of the Zsadhi’s sword.

  It took more effort than he realized, and sweat was beginning to form on his face by the time he had the basic sword shape. He felt drained this time.

  “Five minutes,” said Cheelar coming up beside him. “Leave it like this, Captain. No one will care that it isn’t as smooth as the others.”

  Kusac nodded, taking his hand away from the wall and shrugging his shoulders to loosen them up. He could swear his right shoulder felt as if a weight had been placed on it. Taking a step, he stumbled and cursed as he clutched at the wall to steady himself. Cheelar reached out to help him and he accepted the supportive hand on his arm gratefully.

  “Go,” he said to M’yikku and Maalash. “We’re coming.”

  The two winked out of existence as they heard a stirring from the bedroom beyond. Fear of capture flooded through him as he was suddenly bent double with a pain that racked his whole body. He saw his hand change, start to turn black and morph into his Sholan self.

  “No! I can’t change,” he muttered as Cheelar fought to keep hold of him. Another spasm rippled through him as he again began to change. This time, it wasn’t just his hand, he could feel his whole body stretched to its limit as the bones and muscles began to reform. He stifled a cry of pain and gripped Cheelar’s arm hard.

  “Leave, now,” he gasped. “I will follow if I can!”

  “I can’t leave you, you’re changing into your Sholan self,” said Cheelar, trying to get him to stand upright. “Your clothes, they’re splitting, falling off you! I need to activate your translocator!”

  Cheelar bent down to pick up the shredded clothing and the belt with its translocator still attached. Thrusting it into Kusac’s trembling hand, he heard a high-pitched scream as he simultaneously pressed Kusac’s device and his own. The scream was abruptly cut short as the pool room winked out to be replaced by Kusac’s bedroom where the other two were already standing waiting for them.

  Kusac fell to his hands and knees, remaining in that crouched position while the change flowed excruciatingly through him. When it was done, he looked blearily up at the others and sat back on his haunches.

  “Well, I was seen,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They have their bloody Zsadhi sighting tonight, dammit! This shouldn’t have happened. I should have had another full day before I needed to worry about morphing into my real self!”

  “I think creating the sword just wore you out,” said Maalash. “It would tire anyone.”

  “It shouldn’t have; that’s the
point. There’s no reason for me to be so drained, unless . . .” He raised his head. “It can’t be,” he whispered. “I didn’t plan this mission, I was made to do it! Made to let myself be seen mid-change so I looked like their Zsadhi. I thought I felt a hand on my shoulder tonight, draining me of my energy so I would change! Dammit, Vartra! How dare you manipulate me to your own ends! I am not Kaid!” he snarled, standing up and initiating the change back to his Valtegan self.

  It hurt like hell, but it was the only safe form for him right now. Bending down, he picked up the shredded clothing that Cheelar had brought with him. “Get rid of this,” he said, shoving it at him. “Go to the den and give it to them; we can’t risk anything being found here. M’yikku, fetch me a clean uniform. Maalash, get Laazif to serve supper for us all in the family dining room.”

  When they hesitated, he glared at them. “Well, jump to it! We could have a visitation by security at any time!”

  M’yikku ran over to his wardrobe and pulled out a fresh shirt, uniform pants, and jacket which he handed to Kusac. While he was dressing, Cheelar returned, bringing with him a small blast of cold air.

  “Kaid . . .” Cheelar began.

  “Already talking to him,” said Kusac as he continued putting on the clothes.

  What the hell happened? demanded Kaid. What makes you think Vartra was involved? We’ve heard nothing from him for months now.

  I know, but I’ve felt him before, like a hand on my shoulder when he’s standing right behind me.

  Yep, that’s one of the ways he influences you. This last raid is not your usual style, I have to admit. A bit high profile for you, but it’s right up the street of someone wanting the Zsadhi to be seen!

  Cheelar was with me, I hope he wasn’t seen.

  He told me. I think the fact he was bending down at the time, and that you would have certainly looked like a legend come to life will ensure that all she saw was you.

  Let’s hope so, he sighed. I’m getting some supper. I need it after being drained so badly and doing two morphs in such quick succession. Let’s hope it doesn’t throw me into a fever like it did the other day.