Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance)

by Veronica Scott

  Once the soldiers left them in the dust and Atletl didn’t have to devote his full attention to guiding the team, Nate continued the conversation. “Your people don’t worship Fr’taray, then? Or T’naritza? But you have her totem tattooed on your arm—”

  “My people worship the Seven Spirits of Talonque. T’naritza is one, certainly…She Who Sleeps. The tolokon has always been her totem. I was born at the foot of the mountain where she lived before she established her residence here in the heart of the city, so I wear her totem.”

  “Sounds to me like we’ve got conflicting myths here,” Thom said in Basic. “Does it matter? Let her be who he thinks she is for him and herself for us. Let’s get the hell out of here before Sarbordon works his way loose, or Lolanta goes searching for him.”

  “I’ll have to ask Bithia to play along, or at least not be too hasty about renouncing her claim to the second name.”

  “We’ll be at the palace in another moment or two,” Atletl said, setting aside all the theological debate. “What should I say if the sentries stop us at the gates?”

  “They won’t.” Celixia pointed at the banner whipping from a standard at the back of their chariot. “The king’s personal flag. I made sure to fasten it on this chariot. The guards will bow and scrape and salute and ask no questions, I guarantee it.”

  “Hope you’re right,” Thom said without too much optimism.

  The young priestess was soon proven correct in her prediction, whether because the mass confusion and chaos prevailing at the palace matched the panic in the rest of the sprawling city, or because she’d fastened the sovereign’s ensign to the chariot. They were waved through the gate without a check. Celixia directed Atletl to drive them out of the central courtyard, indicating a narrow alley curving to the left.

  “This leads to the private, royal courtyard,” she said. “From there we can go directly through the throne room and through the passages to the Lady.”

  “Which leads to a question. How the seven hells are we getting out again, once we’ve rescued the damsel in distress?” Thom raised his eyebrows and glanced at Nate. “You planning to stroll through the palace with her in tow, climb into this chariot and drive away?”

  “I’ve been puzzling over my options since we left the plateau.” Nate patted the holster riding at his hip. “I’m strategizing on the fly here. We’ve got superior firepower now.”

  “Swords and knives will be effective enough for them if we get mobbed by a whole bunch of suicidal palace guards. Or even a pack of those fanatical priestesses. These Mark Ones apparently only work in single-shot mode. And we don’t know how long the charges are good for.” Thom seemed determined to make the worst possible case where the ancient weapons were concerned.

  As Atletl drew the tired team to a halt in the small, deserted courtyard, he looked expectantly at Nate. “Orders, lord? Wait here, or go with you?”

  “Celixia, any back doors out of Bithia’s chamber?”

  “I—I don’t know. None were ever spoken of by the first Hialar.”

  Nate jumped from the chariot, scanning the empty courtyard, his Mark One at the ready, while Thom assisted Celixia to the pavement. Nate assessed the panting team of kemat, sweaty sides heaving, and shook his head. “I may not know much about livestock, but even I can see these animals are finished. If we separate, no subset of the four of us has the slightest idea where to rendezvous. We go in together, and we come out together. Agreed?”

  Solemnly, his comrades nodded.

  “The outcome can’t be any other way,” Atletl said. “This was destined from the beginning, when we first were joined in the slave chains. I who wear the Lady’s totem, and you who are her warriors. Let’s do this brave deed.”

  “Wrap your cloak over your arm so it covers your tattoo. No soldier of Sarbordon’s is going to be wearing a tolokon. It’ll attract attention we don’t need,” Nate said.

  “Like we don’t attract attention otherwise.” Thom laughed. “My red hair is all the priestesses have talked about since we was captured, or so I’m told, and neither of us has the facial features to pass for Talonqueni, even in the dark.”

  “Celixia and Atletl will lead, we’ll bring up the rear, keep our heads down, our helmets on and hope the dice continue to roll our way. We need to be quick about it.” To Celixia, he said, “Take the most direct route you know. Avoid walking us through public spaces as much as possible. Thom’s right—he and I don’t blend in too well.”

  She nodded, hefting the weight of the red box, which Atletl had offered to carry for her, but she refused to be parted from it. Celixia set off toward the open portal of the palace, the men shortening their strides to keep pace with her. There was a hall leading from the open courtyard to the throne room. The side doors stayed obligingly closed as he marched past.

  Fortunately, there was apparently no reason for other foot traffic in the royal corridor at this hour. The formal throne room was also deserted. For the most part, the chamber was in gloom, only a few sputtering torches along the walls providing illumination. Nate preferred things to be as murky as possible in case he ran into anyone who might issue a challenge. The four fugitives entered the long, rectangular chamber from the left side and veered left again to reach the throne dais and eventually pass through the leather curtains behind.

  Nate climbed the steps and was even with the golden throne when a woman’s peremptory voice called out from behind them. “What are you doing there, guardsmen?!”

  For a second Nate thought it was Lolanta. He and Thom halted, keeping their cloaked backs to the woman. Moving into the pool of light provided by a torch, Celixia wheeled to confront the challenger.

  “It is I, going to the Lady’s chamber to commune with her.”

  “About what? Where’s the king?”

  “He remains at Fr’taray’s treasure chamber. You’d scarcely credit the riches we unlocked there with the help of her father’s warriors.” Celixia stopped at the edge of the stairs, standing at Nate’s elbow. He had his weapon out and ready, hidden under the edge of his heavy uniform cape. Thom was similarly prepared. “You should have seen Lileet and Uanna arguing over possession of certain of the boxes, Nanzin. It was positively comical. Lord Sarbordon had to intervene to remind them Lolanta will have first choice.”

  “First choice of what, girl? Jewels?” The other woman’s voice sounded avid.

  “Among other things. You’ll see soon enough. I must be on my way because the king needs information from T’naritza, and you know how impatient he can be.”

  “Information the warriors of the goddess couldn’t supply?” The woman behind them sounded surprised and a little suspicious. “Regarding what?”

  Smart lady, not easy to lull her suspicions. From the increasing volume of the priestess’s voice, Nate calculated Nanzin might be coming closer. He tensed, ready to spin and launch an attack, hoping to be able to capture or knock her out before she could scream, but willing to use the Mark One’s destructive power if necessary to save the mission.

  Celixia continued to handle the questions smoothly, however. “I can’t discuss with you what must be asked of the Lady. Neither you nor Lolanta ever tell me what Huitlani’s communications regard.”

  “True enough.” A grudging response. “Be on your way. I’ll report the progress to Lolanta meantime. She may want to go to the plateau with you, if so much of value is being found. The temple must have its fair share.”

  Celixia’s voice was placating. “I’ll send one of these guards to check with her when I’m ready to depart.”

  “See that you do.”

  Celixia spun on her heel and proceeded to the heavy leather curtains, which Atletl jumped to open for her. As Nate passed through the portal, he risked a quick peek over his shoulder. Tapping one foot on the mosaic floor, hands on her hips, the priestess gazed after them thoughtfully.

  “Keep going, keep walking,” Nate said in a whisper. “You handled the situation perfectly.”

  “
I was scared.” Celixia sounded pleased by his approval. “Nanzin is Lolanta’s oldest daughter. Inquisitive and short-tempered, almost as bad as her mother.”

  “I’m not sure she bought the entire story,” Thom said as he descended the first set of long stairs.

  “She was standing there when we left the room, thinking hard from the looks of it. I’m sure she’ll report what you said to Lolanta, but I’m not so sure she isn’t going to add a few opinions of her own.” Nate kept walking.

  “All the more reason to hurry this rescue op along,” Thom said.

  After his group was safely inside the barrier of the whitewashed wall, Nate raised one hand, stopping his companions from moving to the next level. “When we get to the translucent wall, I’m going in alone.”

  “I’m the only one who knows how to release the Lady from her sleep.” Celixia protested instantly, apparently territorial about her duties and prerogatives. “I must go with you.”

  “Bithia knows.”

  “She may not choose to tell you,” the priestess said. “What then?”

  Nate looked from face to face of his three allies. He saw understanding on Thom’s face, puzzlement on Atletl’s and dismay on Celixia’s.

  “This is between her and me.” He directed his words at Celixia. “It has to be her choice what she wants to do.”

  “And if she chooses death? You said she’s spoken of a death wish more than once.” Thom’s question was gentle. “You prepared to honor that request?” He removed his helmet, shook his head and brushed the too long red hair back from his face. “I know what you want, but are you prepared for the other choices she can make? High-stakes game, no guarantees. She might not want to run with us. We can’t leave her here alive to suffer Sarbordon’s vengeance.”

  Nate stared into his friend’s serious face for a long moment, then nodded once. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I’ve considered all the possibilities. I’ve had too damn long to think.”

  “Not nearly as long as Bithia’s had.”

  Nate acknowledged the point. “Whatever she requests of me, I’ll take care of. Even if she prefers death to what I’m offering.”

  “All right, then.” Thom moved aside. “We’ll be waiting.”

  “If we’re found out, you should have enough warning from the initiation of the white wall mechanism’s activation to hustle down the stairs and through the translucent barrier.” Nate regarded the deceptively solid wall behind them. It would yield easily to manipulation of just a few of the alien symbols. “Fortunately, only Celixia has the ability to reliably sing the final barrier open on the first try.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Thom gave Nate a good-natured shove in the direction of the stairs leading to the final barrier. “You’re wasting time. Good luck to you, to both of you.”

  Nate swallowed hard, nodded again and descended the stairs two at a time. Celixia followed more cautiously.

  Reaching the translucent barrier, she caught at Nate’s sleeve. “I—I hardly know what to say to you. I realize you need no advice from me, no help, but I give you my blessing. As the keeper of the Lady’s secrets, descendant of the first Hialar who took her into his charge directly from the hands of Fr’taray, I hereby relinquish the duty and responsibility to you.” She set the red box on one of the steps and extended her hands to Nate, palms up.

  He studied her serious face. Advancing a step, he covered her dainty fingers with his much larger digits. She clasped his fingers firmly, her small hands trembling against his callused palms. She raised their joined hands to her lips, kissing first one and then the other. “The duty is now yours, Nate Reilly.” Releasing him, she smiled tremulously while tears rolled down her cheeks. “I never dreamed of handing over these responsibilities until I lay on my deathbed, and then it would have been to another of my own kin. Hard to accept this irrevocable alteration to tradition, I admit.”

  Nate was moved by her obviously strong, mixed emotions. “My fondest hope is the lady will need your help and companionship awhile longer. Thank you for all you’ve done for her and helping me survive.”

  She blushed. “I only did what must be done. Now I’ll sing the portal open for you.”

  Nate was acutely conscious of time running out. Strange to contemplate that after Bithia had waited thousands of years, her time was now ticking away in rapid, measurable increments. His time had always been limited by the rules of a normal human life-span, so it was nearly impossible to grasp how long she’d been left to sleep, dream and think, time having been artificially suspended for her all these millennia.

  The recent encounter in the halls above with the suspicious priestess, who was probably well on her way to Lolanta, was proof of how close to the edge of disaster they were both running now. And their friends and allies with them. He didn’t want to be trapped here under the palace.

  The portal disappeared in response to Celixia’s chant of the alien voice-activation sequence.

  He bounded down the three stairs. As he moved across the room, he took off the leather helmet with its towering crest of feathers, dropping it to the side where it rolled into the corner. He was bracing himself for the conversation he had to conduct with Bithia. The inexorable translucent green curtain of rippling light hung there, blocking his access to her. Nate advanced to the edge of the lights where the pressure against his chest was like running into a stone wall. Like in our shared dreams. He shook the memory off. This time is reality, and my chance to free her only comes this once.

  “Bithia?” He whispered it aloud, the syllables echoing with an odd resonance. The light of the curtain danced, rippling in time with the syllables with a hypnotic effect. He blinked hard to focus.

  “Nate?” His name, spoken aloud in a heartbreaking mixture of longing and sadness. She stirred slightly on the couch as a tear trickled from under the long lashes. Free and gone. Her beautiful voice sighed in his mind.

  She appeared to be deep in machine-controlled sleep, barely at the edge of his ability to touch her consciousness. He had to pull her out of her solitary dream. It was imperative she realize he was physically present in the chamber with her. He needed her full attention before he could broach the subject of her freedom.

  Nate scanned the symbols controlling her physical and mental condition, reaching to activate them before pulling his hand to his side. No machine. Nothing artificial between us, ever again. He’d reach her mind to mind, or not at all. Their bond was either a true connection to be trusted and relied upon, or it had never existed—a fiction created by the alien device.

  This was the time to put everything to the test.

  He placed both hands on the glimmering curtain. The massive energy of the device pulsed and flowed against his palms, unlike the way it behaved in the dreams. Can I channel this power, use it to boost my signal? Closing his eyes, he concentrated his will and desire on finding her wandering inner self. He visualized her as he wished he’d seen her more often in their shared dreams, walking freely through the swirling green and gray mists to meet him. Not immobile on the couch as she’d been in the majority of their encounters. He built the picture and held it, filling in the small details he so loved about her—

  She was there, in the dreamspace, regarding him in shock and disbelief.

  You were supposed to escape, not set foot in this damned place again.

  Even in the signature, light musical tone he always heard in his mind, she sounded distressed, angry at him. Her lips moved as she switched to what passed for speech in their dream encounters. “Why are you here? Did Sarbordon bring you? Have we failed?”

  Nate sensed terror rising in her and tried to inject calm and certainty into his own tone. “I’m not leaving while you’re still held prisoner. We need to talk. You need to make a decision. Concentrate and come back from the dreamspace, come talk to me in the real world. Beat the fucking machine.”

  “You can’t do anything for me beyond the happiness I took from our shared dreams these we
eks. We’ve always known the limitations.” Ignoring his plea, she sounded resigned.

  “You’re the only one on board with the idea of me leaving you behind. I’ve told you I won’t go without you.”

  “All I wanted was to save your life, and now you’re throwing it away,” she said, voice choked as if she fought back tears. Nate couldn’t get a word or thought in edgewise as she went on. “I never cared as much about anyone, not in all these long painful years, not since my father walked out of this same room. How dare you risk your safety for me? You must escape before anyone finds you here. They’ll kill you in front of me, pleased to make me watch, unable to lift a finger to help you. If you care for me as you claim, please be sensible and go while there’s time.”

  “You be sensible,” he said. “Tell me how to set you free, and we’ll get out of here together. I don’t want to waste precious time any more than you do, but I’m not leaving you behind.”

  There was silence on the surface of their mental communication channel.

  Nate heard her subliminally, so attuned had they become to each other in the last month. He opened his eyes for a moment, staring through the curtain at her. Seeing her pinned helplessly under the domination of the healing device pained him. It always did. He closed his eyes, re-establishing the mental link, deliberately changing the subject, but only temporarily. “Your plan worked as well as you hoped. It was terrific, in fact. Sarbordon and the others literally fell unconscious the moment we took them to the lower level of the storehouse. We ran off the kemat, brought him and his guards back above ground and left them outside the pyramid, tied up. The priestesses and chariot drivers too. How long will they sleep?”

  “You didn’t leave him underground to die, then?” Her question sounded relieved, pleased.

  “I don’t take lives in cold blood. We had this discussion, remember?” Nate shook his head. “When I killed Kalgitr, it was in self-defense.” In case she needed a reminder. “Killing helpless, unconscious people is outside my code of ethics. Thom and I are soldiers, not murderers. Getting back to the real subject of our escape—we don’t have much time, do we? Are they going to sleep for a million years the way you have?” He found the idea amusing, suitable payback for the ruler’s cruelty toward her.