by Leslie Chase
Fingers tightening on the table leg, I prepared myself. It wasn’t easy to think like a warrior, but I tried to think about Zarkav, what he’d do, how he’d act. The strange new marking on my arm tingled when I focused on him, and I imagined him standing beside me. His hands on mine, adjusting my grip and correcting my stance. And oh, how even that illusion of his touch made my heart race.
I felt his breath, smelled his scent, and even felt something hardening against me. Biting back a moan, I forced myself to stay still and quiet as a Zrin climbed into the room.
As soon as the intruder stepped past my hiding place, I stepped out, guided by the dream-touch of Zarkav. My improvised club swished through the air toward its target.
Who wasn’t there. My club passed through empty space and cracked against the floor. God he’s quick.
I had no time to think more than that before the attacker’s tail grabbed my ankle and yanked. With a crash and a clatter, I fell to the floor, losing my grip on my weapon.
Everything happened too fast. One moment I sprang out to attack, the next a Zrin crouched over me, orange flickering over her scales. Her? Yes, now that I got a proper look, I saw the difference.
She was slighter than a male Zrin, but just as tall. Her body had curves — small ones, but every male I’d seen was a solid block of muscle. Her claws looked as menacing as any other Zrin’s, so I didn’t move.
Orange tinged her scales, a show of humor, and her snakelike tongue darted out to taste the air between us. Apparently satisfied, she nodded and tapped her chest.
“El-Ensha,” she said, slow and simple and loud. “You, Tessa?”
Eskel. I was too relieved to be insulted by the manner she spoke it. All I managed was a nod, but it was enough. She stood and helped me up, watching me with wary eyes.
“Friend of Zarkav,” she continued. I struggled not to throw my arms around her and bawl my eyes out. That would be inappropriate, but it was so tempting. Finding another friend amongst the Zrin gave me a chance.
Careful, I cautioned myself. She’s Zarkav’s friend, not yours.
“Uh, taru-ma of Zarkav,” I said, hoping I had the word right. She nodded gravely, made some gesture I didn’t follow, her fingers flicking through the air.
“He is caught, trapped,” she said. “I saw him in temple, taken to Sky God. When we spoke, Zarkav told me where you hid before. So I come, I find you. Take to safety.”
“Thank you,” I replied, piecing a sentence together with Kitty’s help. “Sorry about, um, attacking you.”
Her hands danced again, gestures which meant nothing to me, and she spoke too quickly for me to follow. All right, perhaps the way she’d spoken before wasn’t an insult so much as a fair assessment of my ability.
The orange of her scales spread into more complex patterns and she tried again, back to the simple language. “Not be sorry. Zarkav taru-ma, of course you hit first.”
It took a moment to realize what she’d said, but once I did I doubled over laughing. My whole body ached as I forced myself to keep it quiet. Her joke wasn’t that funny, but the laughter wouldn’t stop. El-Ensha joined in, her hissing laugh reminding me of Zarkav.
If I abandoned him now, I’d never hear his laugh again. Sobering, I pulled myself up, listening to the calls and cheers outside. I’d paid no attention to them earlier, but now I realized that a crowd was gathering in the square before the temple. A peek out of the window showed me an even bigger crowd than the first one I’d seen.
Wondering what brought them here, I turned my gaze to the temple’s platform. I was unsurprised to see Orson Fanwell, grinning, raising his good hand like a rock star. A small amount of pride bubbled up inside me — his other arm hung across his chest in a sling. Maybe I shouldn’t feel good about breaking a man’s arm, but I did. My only regret was not doing more.
If I had a laser rifle like the one strapped over his shoulder, I’d have put a bolt of light through his brain. An easy shot from this range.
Don’t think so small. While I’m wishing for things I don’t have, why not a working starship to get to Arcadia where I’m supposed to be?
Except that thought was flat and unappealing, now. Arcadia was a distant dream, Zarkav was a wonderful reality. I wouldn’t leave him behind.
Not to board a hypothetical ship to Arcadia, and not to go with El-Ensha. A calm settled on me as I realized that I wasn’t going anywhere without him.
“They’re going to kill Zarkav, right?” I asked El-Ensha without looking back. “That’s what this is about.”
“Yes.” Anger and hurt filled El-Ensha’s voice. “All watch, we go. You safe.”
That made sense. It was a good plan. The plan that Zarkav would want me to follow. The only sane option.
“Fuck that. I’m going to rescue him.”
El-Ensha’s disbelieving snort didn’t faze me. I spun to face her, my mind racing through options. Fighting was out. No time for a cunning jailbreak. But maybe, just maybe, the crazy idea bubbling in my head would work.
“I need the universal translator,” I blurted. El-Ensha stared at me, confused, and I forced myself not to laugh at the irony. Of course I didn’t know the Eskel words for ‘universal translator.’ That would be too convenient.
What did Fanwell call it?
“Ahsha-Peren,” I blurted, no doubt mangling the pronunciation. “I have to get the Ahsha-Peren, fast.”
El-Ensha took a step back, orange patterns shifting to white. Humor to shock, in an instant.
“No.” The word came out flat, definite. “No, it is holy.”
“You’ve got to choose,” I told her. “You can keep it holy and let Fanwell and those priests take over your tribe. Or you can help me.”
El-Ensha stared at me, ssav shifting colors indecisively. Too much pressure, perhaps, or she didn’t understand enough of what I was trying to say. My brain raced ahead of my mouth, and I stumbled over the words, guessing to fill in sentences.
That was only part of the problem. Looking her in the eyes, I realized that El-Ensha believed in the Sky Gods. She would turn against corrupt priests, but stealing a holy relic? That was a step too far.
I guess I need to bring out the big guns.
A deep breath to calm me, and I looked to Kitty Fantastic for help. This time it mattered that El-Ensha understood on the first try.
“I am a Sky Person,” I said when I was ready, speaking clear and slow. “Ahsha-Peren is a relic from the Sky, and I need it back.”
The priestess growled, and I wondered if I’d pushed too hard. Impersonating one of her gods was an unfair trick to play, but I didn’t have any better options.
Closing her eyes, El-Ensha stood silently. When she opened them again, she shifted tack and pointed toward the top of the temple. “Can’t. Is there. Many guards.”
I grinned. That part I had figured out, as long as everyone was watching their ‘god.’
With no time for stealth, we ran all the way to our destination. Scared as I was, no one saw us and we saw no one. The streets were empty, everyone gathered to watch the execution of their leader once Fanwell made his pronouncement.
We’d skirted around to the side of the temple where I’d emerged from the water. Without pausing I dived into the lake, El-Ensha following me. She swam past, grabbed my hand, and pulled me under . Swept along with her, I tried to focus on what was ahead and ignore the freezing water.
The hidden chamber beneath the temple was as I’d left it. El-Ensha and I emerged from the water, clambering onto the side together. I wanted to rest and catch my breath more than anything, but there wasn’t time.
“Which one?” I asked, looking at the small shafts. El-Ensha frowned in thought before pointing to one of them, high up one wall.
“Right, then up, then left, then up up up.” She confirmed the directions with gestures, which I appreciated. Getting lost in the vents would be a disaster and relying on us agreeing on a definition of ‘left’ risked a tragic misunderstanding.
&nbs
p; She boosted me up to the vent, and I pulled myself into the cramped space. I couldn’t imagine how Zarkav must have felt in here — it was claustrophobic enough for me, and he was twice my size. El-Ensha would have fitted better than he did, but at the first turn I saw how slow any Zrin would be. I scraped an elbow pulling myself around to the right and kept moving.
Sounds echoed through the narrow tunnels as I found the ladder right where El-Ensha told me it would be. A roar, first, the undifferentiated sound of a crowd. Then Zrin voices cut through it, and the crowd fell silent.
I climbed as fast as I could, the voices getting clearer the higher I was. The words were Zrin, meaningless to me, but I knew how this would end — in Zarkav’s death. Probably others, if I knew him at all he’d take some with him, but I didn’t care. A dead Zarkav was a dead Zarkav, no matter how many enemies he took with him into the afterlife.
“Listen up, you primitive screwheads,” a new voice called in English. Fanwell. I hissed in anger and kept climbing. “I’ll give you a speech, no one will understand, and then we’ll chop this idiot’s head off and throw it to you.”
A roar of uncomprehending approval. If I closed my eyes I saw Fanwell, arms wide, drinking in the adulation. At least that bought time. The longer he spent playing to the crowd, the better my chances.
“When in the course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth,” he started, voice booming through the vents.
The fucking Declaration of Independence? The audacity of using that text for this almost made me respect him a little, but it didn’t overcome my disgust. At least it wasn’t short, and his slow, stentorian style stretched it out.
“Ten minutes,” I muttered to myself, guessing. Longer, shorter? No way to tell, I’d have to go with that. “Kitty, remind me in nine minutes.”
With that, I redoubled my efforts, heedless of the noise I made. The rungs of the ladder were carved directly into the stone, slippery under my palms. They were also too far apart, made for the Zrin rather than humans.
Apparently even Zrin children had long reach, then. El-Ensha and Zarkav had explored this maze in their youth, and thank god El-Ensha still remembered her way around. At the top of the ladder, I turned left and shimmied sideways into another tunnel. Cool air blasted past me as I crawled to the next ladder.
This one went up for a long way, which was good. I needed to get to the very top of the pyramid. Trying not to think about the drop below me, I climbed with desperate speed. A single duct led off from the top of the shaft and I pulled myself into it.
And there it was. The grate I needed, on the side of the duct just ahead.
Or the wrong one, you’ve gotten lost, and Zarkav is doomed.
“I really don’t need to have thoughts like that, thank you,” I muttered, peering through the grating. “So if you could just do me the favor, brain, of staying quiet and letting me get on with this, I’ll be grateful.”
Talking to yourself might be a sign of madness, but did talking to your brain count? Or was I sane on a technicality? I forced down a hysterical laugh — I didn’t have time for a breakdown now.
Beyond the grate, the room was dark. No way to see if I was in the right place, I’d just have to chance it. At least I was at floor level, rather than up in the ceiling like Zarkav had been — breaking a leg dropping down would not help matters.
Bracing myself against the stone wall, I managed to get my feet lined up with the grating and kicked, putting all my strength into it.
My boot hit the grate hard, once, twice, three times. Then both boots together, sending jarring shock up my legs. But there’d been movement, I was sure of it. Again.
Each impact jarred me, adding to my collection of aches and bruises. I’d pay for this in the morning. If I’m lucky, I’ll pay in the morning. The alternative is being too dead to feel anything.
The grating gave way to my kicks, clattering across the floor. I winced: if there were any guards stationed outside, they must have heard that.
I didn’t wait to find out, pulling myself out into the room and to my feet. There were treasures here, robes of fine furs, golden jewelry, statues of humanoids with wings holding clay tablets covered in writing. Eskel writing, perhaps — I hadn’t paid much attention to the written form of the language, and this wasn’t the time to stop and ask Kitty.
A cloud of incense filled the air, cloying and sweet, coming from a bowl that sat before an altar strewn with dried flowers. And mounted on the wall above the altar, the temple relics hung. A spear tipped with a clear crystal blade. An orb of silver that floated on its own. A jet-black cube with burning writing inside it, in the same script as the tablets.
Tearing my eyes away, I looked at the last of them. A golden disk, about ten inches across and so thin it ought to behave like foil, hung on the wall and shivered visibly as I approached. Complex symbols were impressed into the metal, and I when I lifted it I felt a slight, subtle vibration.
No wonder the locals treated these things like magic, they sure looked the part. Wistfully looking at the remaining items, I sighed. No time, not now.
“Kitty, how long’s left?”
Kitty Fantastic mrewwed and displayed a clock floating over her head. I stared at it.
“Two minutes? Fuck. No way I get down the vents that fast. Help me get out of here, Kitty.”
Panicking, I looked around for another answer while Kitty yowled at me and leaped for the door, scratching to be let out.
“I don’t have a key,” I shouted at her, on the verge of tears. The door was heavy and solid, proof against a Zrin. I’d stand no chance of forcing it.
But the lock was a primitive, bulky thing, made of wood. And at times, a companion AI can be almost disturbingly smart. Kitty’s image flickered, fuzzed into static, and she scrambled up the door to stick a paw into the lock.
A second later, it clicked loudly. The doors swung open, slowly and majestically, as I stared wide-eyed at my hologram cat. “Okay, Kitty, you really are Fantastic.”
The white cat solidified again, looking smugly pleased with herself. Her forcefield generators might not exert much force, but apparently a primitive lock like this was child’s play for her.
The timer reappeared over her head, counting down. Fuck. Shaking myself free of the surprise, I ran out onto the temple’s roof. From below, Fanwell’s voice continued.
“…our fellow citizens taken captive on the high seas to bear arms against their country,” he said, voice booming out, then pausing briefly to let the Eldest ‘translate’ his words. I drew a deep breath, relief flooding through me. The translations slowed Fanwell down, gave me more time than I’d thought.
Enough time? Not to do things sensibly. The temple’s outer stairs were directly in front of the crowd; they’d see me instantly. No good. Another stairway led into the temple, but I ruled that out too. I didn’t know the way, and if I ran into anyone, the rescue was over. I’d already pushed my luck. I needed both speed and stealth, and that meant being stupid. Again.
The stepped pyramid design of the temple gave me a chance. I looked over the edge, saw the drop to the next level, and swallowed. Fifteen feet, more or less. Quite a fall, but it was the only way.
Dangling myself over the side, I took a deep breath then let go. I hit the stone hard, my ankle screamed in pain as I tumbled onto my back. I wished I had time to recover, or at least get my breath back, but no. No time for that now, I’d deal with my injuries later if I lived.
One down. Another four to go. I winced, bracing myself. Let’s do it.
The next drop was both better and worse: I knew what to expect, but landing on my injured ankle hurt. On the third, my right leg gave out completely, nearly tipping me into an uncontrolled tumble that would have taken me over the next edge. I muttered curses under my breath, looked at the next drop and shook my head. No way. No way in hell.
If I reached
the front of the pyramid, if I made it to the stairs, perhaps I’d manage to get down to the platform. My leg wouldn’t support me, but I refused to give up here. I crawled, dragging my injured leg, the pain almost enough to make me cry. To distract myself, I paid attention to the voice of that rat bastard Fanwell. How far had he gotten?
“…We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace friends,” he said.
Fuck. One paragraph to go. Whatever nonsense the Eldest translated it into, it didn’t last long enough. I wouldn’t reach the stairs in time, let alone get down them.
Peeking down, I saw the crowded platform two levels down. The Eldest and Fanwell, Marakz and his followers, temple guards. And held by the guards, tied up securely, was Zarkav.
There was no way to reach them in time. Oh, if I rolled myself down I might make it, but not in a state to do anything. I looked at the golden disk clutched in my hand, weighed it.
“You’d better just work, you fucker,” I said, and threw it.
An awkward toss. I’d tried to skim it like a frisbee, but it didn’t take and the disk hit the step below me. Landing edge-first, it rolled forward. I held my breath and stared, as though I could steer it with my mind.
It rolled true, falling to the platform with a clang. For once I blessed Fanwell’s oratorical skills, because he ignored the noise and kept speaking.
24
Zarkav
“…Independent states,” the human said, words turning from nonsense to comprehensible language in mid-sentence. “They have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.”
He finished with his good arm thrust out to the crowd, his voice booming. But his expected cheer didn’t come. The assembled tribe stared up at him, silent, unable to believe what they were hearing. Even the Eldest turned to stare at him in shock. And at our feet, the golden disk of the Gift of Words clattered to a stop.