Chapter 16
TIME WAS UP. She wouldn’t wait any longer. Bent at the waist, she began creeping closer, anxiety eating at her. She knew the lieutenants wouldn’t wait much longer either. And before weapons’ fire got out of hand, she must get Vadyn clear. But she still didn’t feel safe enough to open herself to his mind-link. Too much of his shared pain would distract her . . . that is, if he was strong enough to even share their link.
The massive upheaval that shook the whole building had quieted, but the ground continued trembling with unrelenting aftershocks. The twins arrived at her side, still surrounding her, controlling their vache for the moment. Out in front, Batla fairly shook apart with the emotion. Anger made every hair on his neck stand up, adding more bulk to his considerable size. A scuffling ahead attracted her attention, a hand briefly waved, and Cayla saw where Tyrei hid among the shadows of heavily stacked crates. He briefly exposed himself, shook his head, and laid one finger across his lips. He grimaced, the expression making him nearly unrecognizable. But she understood his gesture and nodded; they wouldn’t expose his position. The four of them reached the center of the room and slipped aside along the far wall. Just when she thought she could breath, the big lizard raised its head. It stopped pacing, and its sibilant command rang out.
“Halt your approach, weaklingsss!” The deadly, oversized Xeetag stepped further into the light, holding a laser to Vadyn’s head. The warlord still hung limply over the massive forearm. Next to the reptile even Vadyn looked small. But then, he was a lot smaller than he had been before his capture. Her heart contracted at the thought. Her chest hurt. Her mate was thinner than ever with black and blue bruises evident even through his thin layer of fur. One more sin to lay at the Xeetag’s feet. Anger and grief filled her throat, but the lizard warned again.
“I will kill him if you don’t lay down your weaponsss,” it hissed.
“How do we know he’s not dead already?” Cayla stood on weak knees, but her aim never wavered. Her arm extended with her laser pointed straight at the Xeetag. At this range she wouldn’t miss. Behind her growls rose, but her lieutenants stayed hidden. She blinked moisture from her vision, but her stare never left the lizard’s. As if it knew she cared for Vadyn, it shuffled closer, its heavy body waddling in an awkward tottering stride. It hissed menacingly.
“He isss alive. Do not come any clossser, or he will not remain ssso.” The Xeetag tapped the end of the laser against Vadyn’s temple. He didn’t move although the weapon punched his head. Gods, why didn’t he move or groan, just do something to stop her heart from freezing so?
“Prove that he lives.” Cayla took another step, hoping for just one move, one little sound from Vadyn. The snarls behind her grew louder. The lizard leaned closer to Vadyn.
“He isss alive!” Cold, reptile-slit eyes never blinked. It shook Vadyn’s limp body fiercely. A soft moan finally sounded. The warlord stirred slightly on the creature’s arm.
Cayla trembled with suppressed rage. Just one shot, she needed just one clear shot. Make one mistake, lizard, just one. She fought to control the trembling in her fingers that so longed to tighten on the trigger. But the Xeetag held its stare and hissed, “Lay down your weaponsss or he diesss.”
Sudden debris toppled in the corner. The lizard’s attention snapped to the sound, turning toward that corner of the room. Tyrei fell among the stacked boxes. In that split second, the lizard fired point blank at him. Caught, Tyrei arched up with the blast. But the lizard fared no better. Multiple laser fire scored its chest from three different directions.
Cayla kept firing even when the lizard fell. It had taken one of her shots right between the eyes. The rest of the wounds that scored its chest were compliments of the twins and Batla. Vadyn fell limply from its grip. She raced to his side.
A collective scream rose from a hundred throats.
“Imbecilesss!” That one last mind cry echoed then Turathoom was no more. The surviving Xeetag felt their queen’s demise, and the drones ran for no other reason than that they didn’t know what else to do.
The Xeetag Empire had toppled.
A few dazed lizard troops ran into the building, but they were decimated under Batla’s blasting fire, and the remaining fled back the way they came. Without hesitation, the twins opened up on the stragglers. But she did nothing but hold Vadyn to her breast. Did he breathe? She frantically searched for a heartbeat. Finally she tried a mind-link, but only a blank haze answered. He wandered alone in his pain while Dalhum threatened destruction.
Seismic tremors ripped at the ground, leaving fissures of exploding lava.
Billowing steam rose thousands of feet in the air.
Ashes rained.
Gaping red crevasses appeared where once solid ground existed.
“Come on, ly’teal, or we’ll be buried!” Popi shouted, dragging her up while Lairdi rose with Vadyn tucked to his side. But she shook Popi off and tried hugging Vadyn away from the other twin and back in her arms. He never stirred, but, under her hand, she finally felt the solid thump-thump of his heart. She gave a silent thankful prayer before releasing him back to Lairdi’s care. She looked across at Batla. He cradled Tyrei in his arms in much the same manner as Lairdi held Vadyn. The old veteran caught her glance and shook his head. She ran her hand over Tyrei’s forehead, knowing the truth. The brave lieutenant would never fight again, but he still lived. He blinked at her, and his golden gaze, hazy with pain, locked on hers.
“Is he—the el’kota—” His groan was faint, a near whisper.
She swallowed before answering. “Yes, the el’kota lives, Tyrei. He will know of your brave sacrifice.”
A faint smile curved the lieutenant’s lips, and a thin line of blood flowed from his mouth. “My life for his—Tell him—”
“He knows, warrior, he knows.” She bowed her head, unable to watch that soft light go out of Tyrei’s eyes. Someone shouted at her, waking her from draining grief. So many had died!
“Ly’teal! We must hurry.” Popi’s shout carried over the noise of cracking walls and tumbling ceiling stones. He pulled her away just as the weak timber supports of the building gave. In the billowing dust, she couldn’t see until tears cleared her gritty vision. Next to her, Lairdi jogged, carrying the el’kota much like a mother carried a babe. With his great strength, the burden was light. Not wanting to get separated, she hooked her fingers under his wide weapon’s belt and stumbled through the dark, following in the big warrior’s wake. Popi joined them, his arms free to fire his ready weapon.
Finally outside, although still hampered by a haze of choking grit and falling ash, she faintly glimpsed Batla’s burly figure hunched with Tyrei. He still carried the dead warrior close to his chest in the same manner as Lairdi carried Vadyn. It seemed fitting that the battling warriors found friendship in the end. Popi ran in front of all of them, his laser out, checking for danger. She followed, tripping along in the cold world of shock. Her nightmare would only be better when Vadyn awoke and took command. Too much responsiblity was a drain on her senses. She hurried the warriors ahead of her, constantly checking behind. But she needn’t have worried. The others were also on high alert.
“All right, all right.” Batla puffed along at Lairdi’s side, tentatively reaching out and touching Vadyn’s shoulder with one hand as if to assure himself that his leader lived. The burly warrior easily carried Tyrei. He could have just as easily carried Vadyn.
Cayla flinched with the truth. Her husband weighed so much less than he had a few months ago. The sharpness of his bones horrified her. She knew more than anyone what Vadyn had suffered. A great roar rose from behind them. She risked a quick glance just in time to see the command center as it finally fell. Complete devastation had flattened the remnants of the building—but tremors still shook the ground. She stumbled over the pitching and bouncing stones, watching the others carefully navigate through the wreckage.
The expelled dirt and gases filled the atmosphere, creating a thick darkness. Gasping, they finally reached the airfield where they had left their fighters only to stop in horror.
Only the twins’ Cobra remained intact. Both her Vyper and Batla’s Cobra had been swallowed by a fissure that gaped from the ground like some monster’s maw. Red steam hissed, and more rock cracked until the fissure split further in a zigzag toward the last Cobra. “Come on!” Popi waved them forward and palmed the gangplank’s release. Before it even reached the ground, they were thundering up the bouncing ramp. The one Cobra could carry them all if they launched in time. She hoped and prayed they had that time.
“Get us out of here!” she yelled the unnecessary order. Popi manned liftoff while Batla tenderly placed Tyrei’s body in cold storage for the trip home. She watched Lairdi like a silent hawk as he lowered the med unit over Vadyn. Wires connected in proper alignment while air and meds hissed over him. Kasara’s warlord looked like such a thin parody of himself. She flinched when the unit’s opaque lid slid closed, hiding him from her sight. Seconds later, dials and switches hummed and echoed with his heartbeat. Finally, she let out a held breath. He lived. He lived! Under her feet she felt the rumbling of takeoff. She entered the bridge in time to see the orange whirling world of Dalhum beneath them. The planet belched and spewed fire but didn’t come apart—yet.
“Ready on your command, ly’teal.” Lairdi turned toward her, his hand over the weapon’s control. They had one last task—to fire their remaining rockets. According to Popi, the resulting blast would be enough to nudge Dalhum into its final death throes of self-destruction. She looked toward the med unit where Vadyn suffered confinement. He still hadn’t awakened although the unit had started the healing process. How long would it take to rouse him? She knew that the mechanical unit would only do part of the job. Red healers would be waiting when they landed on Kasara where their psi healing would finish the job the ship’s unit had started. She hoped.
Too bad the warlord wouldn’t see what was happening to his prison. “This is for you, dear one,” she whispered. Without an ounce of compassion for the remaining lizards, she gave her order. “Fire!” A rumbling snarl echoed from Batla. The old warrior had won a special place in her heart when he carried Tyrei to the ship, but she was too tired to give more than a brief nod to him. With blank dispassion, she watched the rockets race toward the planet’s surface—closer and closer. Without a sound, a funnel cloud rose toward them before she knew the blasts had struck. An orange ring rose upward, gaining momentum with each second that passed. Faster and faster, it sped toward them. Oh, gods, what had she been thinking?
“Go to hyper-drive!” she yelled. Cold sweat broke over her forehead and ran down her back. She couldn’t believe the view from the port. The dark was gaining on them. More distance! They needed to be light years away from this place before the aftershock hit! In hyper-drive’s dim moments of transition, racing through space, she glimpsed Dalhum, the Xeetag conquered world, die, splitting apart, orange fire cracking the planet in two. They were still too close! She knew even before the encircling shock wave blossomed out and caught their ship. Battered about like a leaf in the wind, the world’s implosion threatened to pull them into a spinning vortex.
Engines whined in maximum output to reach hyper-drive. The ship’s seams strained and pinged. They fought the massive pull with every ounce of speed.
Distance finally won. They shot free.
Shaken, they limped toward home. She fervently hoped the Alliance didn’t blame them for the Xeetag world’s demise. Imagine, a whole world, perhaps a whole species gone. She shivered, then told herself that she had done the only right thing. After all, Dalhum was self-destructing anyway. She hugged herself and faced the ugly truth. She was as bloodthirsty as any Kasar warrior—as bloodthirsty as their warlord. She had wanted the Xeetag obliterated for what they had done to the people she loved, and she was fervently glad they were gone. At least, she hoped they were all gone. The el’kota could deal with the Council when he got well. She refused to think of “if he got well.” She was tired of leading and would love to be a follower for a change.
Finally free of responsibilities for a moment, she took up a vigil beside the med unit, watching the dials rise and fall. Each time the red lights came on and the machine hissed its meds, her heart stopped, and then when the light went back to green, she breathed again. Soon, she promised her mate, soon you will be well. She refused to acknowledge the dark doubts about the future that assailed her. Her mind-link still echoed blank.
Chapter 17
A CHEERING ROAR greeted the tired, dirty group as they descended from the battered fighter. Cayla stood stoically to the Cobra’s side entrance and waved the others down the gangplank ahead of her. Her heart beat heavy in her chest at the sight.
Batla bore Tyrei’s silk-shrouded body draped in his arms. His aged face was oddly ravaged. Whatever jealous war had raged between the two veterans was long over. Batla handed his burden to Tyrei’s family who had solemnly waited. All assembled knew that Tyrei deserved this hero’s welcome. But each and every one of them was a valiant hero, and she was so very proud of them all. She motioned with a nod to the twins next, and they descended as one down the ramp. The warriors had removed their bandages and bore their recent scarred wounds proudly. On an invisible sign, they split at the bottom and stood at attention on either side of the ramp. Waiting.
At the top of the Cobra’s gangplank, she tipped her head to the shadows, keeping her face impassive. She still had not shared her thoughts with her husband, but not because she hadn’t tried. Even upon waking, Vadyn had held himself closed from her. Only a cold darkness answered her efforts. And, it took all her control to ignore her anger and fear. The air stilled. The people waited in hushed anticipation for their leader’s appearance. He didn’t disappoint them.
A gaunt, weakened, but erect warlord stepped out onto the Cobra’s ramp. He stood wavering before the crowd. Cayla clenched her fists to keep from reaching out to steady his swaying. He would only shake off her offering just as he had ignored all her pleas. The twins watched anxiously from below. Only she saw their worried faces. The crowd’s cheers rose to deafening roars before the warlord began a slow descent, ignoring the twins’ unobtrusive, steadying hands at the end. Gingerly, taking a long time, he made his way, step by slow step, across the flight yard. She held her breath. Tears of pride filled her vision. He might only be showing a shadow of his former regal glory, but he was magnificent in his stoic manner. She hadn’t thought that he could do this. Awakened at the last moment from the med unit, he had refused more than a slight duty-filled hug from her and the others. Without a word of explanation, he refused to open his link to her or to accept strength from her. And she knew he was hanging on to consciousness by a mere thread. She hid a grimace as she watched newly-knit bones protest their use. His knees bent gingerly. He straightened, looked back at her, and only she knew what torment those knees gave him with each step. She knew only by the pain on his face, a subtle tightening of his mouth. Still carefully shielding her, he held himself in control. He had insisted that he greet his people on his feet, a strong leader despite his injuries. Moisture clouded her vision, threatening to embarrass her. Only grim determination held it at bay. She reached out and, with a thin connection, linked to him without his knowledge, helped keep him erect. And, still without his acknowledgement, she steadily fed him more and more of her strength. Revealing her shielding powers would surely hurt him, and suddenly, his leadership strength became the most important thing to her. Her grip on the railing became her link to reality. Vadyn stood taller, proud before his warriors. He waved a bandaged hand in salute. His “Well done,” rang out in a low growl over the crowd, but all heard. They roared their love in return. Their leader was home.
Finally, inside the shadows of the great hall, Popi reached her side and swept her into his arms just as she felt Vadyn’s strength d
rain away. She blinked darkness that wasn’t hers as she pushed Popi away and stood, swaying, only to have Popi hold her erect. “Catch him!” Her unnecessary warning had Batla and Lairdi jumping to Vadyn’s side. They caught him under the arms between them. No one else saw his collapse. She clenched her teeth against despair and closed her eyes. At least, he was home!
“Take him to the healers at once,” she murmured against Popi’s shoulder. She damned her voice for its weak whisper. She had just led Kasara’s troops in a massive war raid and rescued her mate; she shouldn’t be fainting. A ly’teal wouldn’t.
“Yes, ly’teal.” Popi patted her gently and tucked her into the crook of his shoulder, and as he lifted her, she felt darkness descend. She tried to raise her suddenly heavy head. There was so much more she wanted to tell them. The short time in the Cobra’s med unit couldn’t do Vadyn as much healing as their own red healers. They needed to hurry. Hurry. But the word never came out of her mouth.
Hours later, she rose and paced, refusing to rest in bed. She stripped off the dirty battle fatigues she had worn to Dalhum. She even managed to smile thinly at Arrowin and the others. The browns had feared taking the clothing from her, deciding she needed sleep and rest more than cleaning. With a wide yawn, she finally agreed with them. She pulled a night shift over her head and still without even washing Dalhum’s gritty dirt from her face and hair, she fell back asleep. Shaky relief filled her with joy. He was home. She could live again
VADYN STRENGTHENED, slowly reviving, day by day. Still Cayla hesitated to establish their former connection. Upon his waking, tentatively, she sent her first thoughts in months. Beloved, I have missed you. When she received no answer, she kept repeating her message hour after hour. The rest of her thoughts, the force of her suppressed emotions, choked her. They lodged, stuck in her mind. Misery of the past weeks came back to haunt her. She had failed him, doubted him, and had refused his love. Imagine, thinking that he was a bloodthirsty savage. What was she then? Would he ever know that she admitted her mistake? Deep inside, she feared his continued rejection. After all the hurt she had put him through, would he ever want her again? As if he knew her confusion, a hesitant mind touch finally reached out to her.
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