Banshee Screams

by Clay Griffith

  An anouk.

  Out of the frying pan and into the fire, her scattered thoughts rambled. She instinctively took a swing at the native. It connected with barely enough force to knock a kitten from a tree. She cursed as her arm was grabbed and immobilized.

  Her last thought before the darkness took her was that she had failed Ross.

  Chapter 19

  Sensations swarmed over Debbi, some good, some bad. The good sensation surrounded her chest, filled with warmth and a slight tingling. The bad filled her head and radiated down into her neck and shoulders. Her eyes fluttered open and a blurry shape loomed over her. She blinked in a vain attempt to clear her vision and tried to rise, but a hand to her chest pushed her back far too easily.

  "Rest," said a voice. "You are safe."

  It was English. Debbi relaxed and lifted a hand to her aching head, shutting her eyes. They snapped open again as the battle on the cliff came back in a flood of images.

  She couldn't believe he was gone.

  "I'm sorry, Ross," she whispered. She had failed him. All she could see was Ross slipping over the edge, limp and lifeless. She prayed that he had been unconscious all the way to the bottom.

  "Ross..." Debbi tried to rise again.

  The hand pushed her down once more. Debbi turned her head and fought to focus her eyes. When they finally did, she started.

  A female anouk sat beside her. She was lean, long-limbed, and purple-skinned. Her large black eyes clinically studied the Ranger. Noting her guest's fear, she drew back her hand.

  Debbi's hand immediately dropped to her side to a weapon that was no longer there. She shrank defensively against the wall. Her bed was a rock shelf extending from a black tannis wall.

  "We took your weapon," the anouk woman said.

  Realizing she didn't have much chance of escaping at the moment, Debbi regained her composure. Her vision kept going in and out on her. She shook her head angrily at its betrayal. That action sent a stabbing pain in retaliation.

  The anouk watched her. "If I wanted you dead, the deed would have been done long ago."

  "How long have I been here?" Debbi asked.

  The anouk shrugged. "Many hours. You were very badly hurt."

  Debbi straightened with a scowl. "I don't feel that bad."

  The anouk actually smiled. It took Debbi by surprise. She had never seen an anouk smile before.

  "Your ribs were broken."

  "They don't feel broken," Debbi countered. Her mind dimly remembered a chest filled with blinding pain. Her hand gently probed her ribs. They were whole and free of pain.

  "They were," the woman stated matter-of-factly.

  Debbi took in her surroundings. The room was shiny and black, carved from the tannis that made up much of this canyon. If she even was still in the Red River Valley. The air was cool and damp.

  The anouk woman said, "If you would permit, I could also heal your head injury."

  She stretched out her large hand and placed it gently on Debbi's forehead. The pain eased somewhat with just her touch.

  Debbi's hand snapped up to grab her wrist. The strength in the anouk was evident, but she allowed Debbi to push her away. Debbi's head quickly began to ache again. Her eyes squeezed shut in pain. She let out a small groan.

  "You're being very difficult," the anouk told her. Her tone sounded very reminiscent of Miss Etta's.

  Debbi looked up. She had never been alone with an anouk before.

  "Sorry," she said with a touch of sarcasm, which she quickly regretted for some reason.

  The anouk chuckled. "I think perhaps you are not." She inclined her head. "In another moment, I will be finished. Will you permit me?"

  Debbi swallowed, unsure. For all she knew, the anouk could be stealing information from her head, not healing it. But, damn it, her head hurt. Eventually, the injury would incapacitate her again and the anouk woman could do as she pleased.

  She nodded.

  The anouk smiled and lifted her hand over Debbi's brow. The warmth returned and the pain instantly vanished. Debbi breathed a sigh of relief.

  Debbi didn't sense any attempt to brainwash or extract information. Not that she knew what such a thing felt like anyway. But the relief from the injury was such that she would almost grant the devil a wish just for a split second of that respite.

  When the hand lifted, the pain lifted with it. Debbi breathed slowly, afraid that with any sudden movement it would return. But it didn't. The anouk woman retreated to the nearby chair as Debbi sat up.

  Debbi leaned back on the bed against the numerous animal skins that served as cushioning. The fur came from barkas, the anouks' main herd animals. She braced herself for the worst. The prisoner was awake and well enough to talk. Obviously her captor was preparing to get some answers.

  "I'm not going to tell you anything," Debbi snarled.

  The anouk woman frowned with annoyance. "There is little you can tell me which I don't already know."

  "Why did you help me then?" Debbi asked.

  The anouk woman had a strange expression on her face. "I haven't yet decided."

  "There was someone else with me. I don't suppose you found." Debbi faltered.

  The anouk shook her head. "There was no one."

  Debbi caught her trembling lip in her teeth before it was noticed. She nodded curtly and turned away. She breathed deeply and then asked in distraction, "What is your name?"

  The anouk woman studied Debbi, as if trying to gauge something, but then said. "I am called Martool."

  "My name's Debbi Dallas." Martool nodded in acknowledgment. It was a relief not to get the usual Earth reaction. "Thank you for helping me."

  It was a moment before Martool finally answered, "You're welcome. Perhaps now we may talk."

  Debbi felt an internal alarm, but she tried to quiet it. This anouk had been nothing but kind. Of course, that might be her plot to gain information. While the two halves of her brain argued, Debbi went ahead and struck up a conversation with Martool. There was something about the stately native that put her at ease.

  "Talk about what?" Debbi asked cautiously. "I won't tell you anything that will compromise the safety of Temptation."

  Martool held up a hand. "I do not expect you to. However, I am interested in why Rangers have added this to their arsenal." She held up the black gun attachment off Debbi's Dragoon.

  That the anouk even recognized it as something significant didn't bode well.

  Martool cocked her head at the young Ranger. "I gather you do not know what it is. Otherwise, you wouldn't have bothered using it on the richos—the crazies."

  Debbi stayed silent.

  Martool popped open the cube chamber and spilled some of the needles into her hand. "These are made of tannis. But they are infected with what you humans call ghost rock."

  That took Debbi by surprise. "Ghost rock? How can you tell?"

  "Anouks are...sensitive to these things."

  Debbi swung her legs off the bed so that she was facing Martool. She pointed at the needles. "Those are for use against anouks?"

  Martool frowned as if debating her next words. "They can be. Or against anyone with certain magics of the mind."

  "Why are you telling me this?" Martool's actions didn't make sense. They were enemies, weren't they? It was clear to Martool that Debbi hadn't known the purpose of the weapon. Why would the anouk offer this kind of damaging information against her own kind?

  "It is akin to an assassin's weapon," Martool said. "Rangers, despite their ferocity in battle, are not assassins. Am I right?"

  "No, we keep the peace. Hell, nobody wants to kill anybody. We're just trying to protect what's ours."

  "As are we," Martool was quick to reply.

  Debbi couldn't argue with that. She felt sorry for the anouk. Humans had just plowed in and started taking over, no different than the white men and the Native Americans of Earth's Old West. It was too bad no one had learned from that mistake. Now everything had spiraled so far out of contr
ol on Banshee that the planet was an armed camp.

  "Look, we honestly didn't know anything about those guns," Debbi offered quickly. She felt it important to be truthful with Martool.

  "Then why do you carry it?"

  Debbi shrugged. "To test it. We couldn't figure out what it was, but some miners thought it was pretty handy. Now I understand why. They get raided regularly by Azeel and blacklining Reapers, some of whom have a form of anouk psychic powers."

  Martool's face betrayed her critical opinion of Reapers and the Azeel.

  "What tribe are you from?" Debbi asked, curious to find an anouk that didn't think much of her own people who sided with the Reapers.

  "I am of the Asai clan."

  "I never heard of them."

  "It is old," she stated cryptically. Martool's proud expression faded. She reached down to the floor and brought up a covered bowl. She removed the lid and the wonderful aroma of hot soup instantly filled the air. Debbi hadn't even noticed the bowl sitting there. Martool held it out to her.

  Debbi hesitated. She knew she should be suspicious of all that Martool had said, but she wasn't. She couldn't explain why, but she didn't fear the anouk woman any longer either. Her rational mind cried out brainwashing. It was known that anouks had weird powers, almost like sykers, although exactly what no one was sure. However, there was something in the way Martool looked at her. It wasn't the look of a jailer. It was more...maternal.

  Besides, Martool hadn't done anything to harm her. In fact, the anouk had only helped her. Why would she bother poisoning her now? Hopefully, now that Debbi was recovered, they would let her go home to Temptation so she could give a report.

  Ross was never going to believe a story like this.

  She was unprepared for the ache that struck her when she realized her blunder. Her mouth twisted painfully and she raised a hand to cover her expression. Damn him for getting under her skin like this.

  Martool let her arms drop to her lap. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine."

  Martool studied her with the fathomless orbs that functioned as eyes. Debbi almost swore she could see her own reflection in them.

  Martool put the bowl in her hands and told her, "Then eat."

  Debbi accepted the bowl and cautiously sipped. It was delicious, whatever it was. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. There were big hefty chunks of meat and fresh algae in the broth. She devoured it, not saying another word until the meal was done. Martool merely sat and watched her eat.

  Two more natives, big burly males, entered the open doorway. One was tall and possessed a vivid scar from temple to chin, his visage grim. Debbi didn't like the look he gave her. His partner was shorter and his tannis breastplate was cracked in three places. He didn't seem at all happy to see a Ranger either. It was then she noticed the strange markings inlaid on their chest armor. It was unlike anything she had ever seen on known anouk tribes.

  The anouk warrior with the fierce scar spoke harshly to Martool. Debbi noted his sharp teeth. Martool responded in a quiet voice to the warrior who straightened abruptly as if he had just been rebuked. Martool glanced at Debbi.

  "Fareel believes I am in some danger from you."

  Debbi regarded the grim anouk and fed him back just as cold a glare as she could muster, which was pretty damn good considering. But she was too tired to hold it for long.

  Softening, she turned to Martool. "Do you believe that?"

  Martool grinned. "If I did we would not be having this conversation."

  Fareel's glare only deepened. Obviously, Martool's trusting nature was an oddity amongst her people. That surprised Debbi even more. Why did Martool trust her? A Ranger of all people. Was it the fact that she was a woman? No, over a third of the Rangers were women. But there had to be some rational reason for this odd event.

  Fareel spoke again to Martool and she glanced sharply at Debbi. The Ranger knew something had happened. A hollow pit filled her stomach. It was something bad.

  "What is it?" she asked, hoping that whatever it was she could perhaps put it right and still get away with her skin intact. Had the Rangers come looking for her already? Were they beating down the doors to rescue her? Had they killed any of Martool's people? If they had, all hope of getting out peacefully was destroyed. The big question though was how the hell they knew where to look. But she wouldn't have put it past the Temptation Rangers. They were the best. Well, except for Miller.

  Martool's quiet voice broke through her musing. "A Ranger has been spotted. Perhaps it is the one you traveled with."

  "Ross?" Debbi's voice almost choked. "But he fell —" Debbi stopped herself. If anyone could survive a fall off a steep cliff into a raging river, it would be Dave Ross. Debbi clambered to her feet. "Where? Is he alive? Show me!"

  Martool's eye-ridge rose slowly. Debbi's fierce reaction concerning the discovered Ranger obviously surprised her. "He has barricaded himself against some creature's attack. He will not last long." Martool rose. "Come."

  They ran down the corridor. Solid walls of black rock slid aside to reveal hidden passageways. Debbi noticed no apparent mechanisms physically manipulated by Martool or the others. It was amazing and she knew she should be fascinated enough to ask questions, but she didn't.

  Instead one thought kept ringing in her mind—he's alive!

  Chapter 20

  The bright sun pierced Debbi's eyes and she quickly brought up a shading hand to her brow. The blindfold applied to Debbi midway through their journey had just been removed. She blinked against the light and noticed that they were near the top of the canyon. Far below, the wild Red River boiled and surged.

  Debbi, Martool, and Fareel stood on a rock shelf perched on the sheer canyon wall. Several yards away, the narrow shelf widened into a path and four chanouks waited, saddled and ready to go. Standing beside them was the warrior with the cracked breastplate. Debbi noticed that he carried her weapon, now without the black gun attachment, as if it was a prize won in battle.

  "Martool?" Debbi spoke. "I'm not going to be much help without a weapon." Not to mention that Ross would be furious if she let a Colonial Ranger Dragoon fall into anouk hands.

  They started to jog up the slope toward the waiting mounts.

  Martool grinned wryly and nodded. She spoke to the warrior with the cracked breastplate. He gripped the weapon tighter and barked something at Martool. She frowned and spoke again. Glaring with absolute distrust and resentment, the anouk shoved the weapon at Debbi. She took it; she had more to worry about than an annoyed anouk.

  Martool regarded Debbi. "Sahrin is proud, one of our best. He had hoped for something to commemorate his bravery in saving you from the richos."

  Debbi glanced at her sharply as Martool took the reins of her chanouk and mounted with a fluid leap.

  "Sahrin saved me?" the Ranger asked. "I thought you did it, Martool."

  "I did not do it alone." Martool clucked her tongue and her chanouk started off along the rock shelf.

  Debbi approached her own waiting mount with trepidation. Chanouks were even more impressive up close. Their scaly skin, long manes, and massive shoulders looked something like a cross between a bull and a lion. She heard its breath huffing out through broad nostrils. Debbi's chanouk yawned, revealing rows of massive, daggerlike teeth. It smacked its mouth and eyed Debbi with something more than suspi-cion—possibly hunger.

  Fareel made a comment to Sahrin who gestured at Debbi. Fareel laughed and Debbi's irritation blossomed.

  She put a determined foot in the large stirrup and mounted. She felt dwarfed in the massive saddle, but the chanouk stayed steady beneath her. Trying to keep a smirk of satisfaction from her face, she obstinately kneed the beast closer to Martool. The chanouk growled, but complied.

  The two warriors were silent now and grim-faced once more. Their dark eyes watched Debbi intently as they rode off single file behind Martool.

  Her mind tumbled over some way to repay Sahrin. She fingered her jacket and felt a hard piece of
metal. She scowled, and then lifted her badge with the telltale crack from its place. She had had it a long time and it was more to her than just a symbol of her office. It now carried with it a mystical shielding that meant the world to Debbi. Hoping that Sahrin understood, she held out her hand to the warrior riding behind her. In her open palm, the badge glistened in the blazing sun. Its crack was clearly evident.

  Sahrin looked at it with a hard, defiant stare, but then he cocked his head. Leaning forward over the thick neck of his mount, his bulky middle finger reached out and touched the crack. He looked up at Debbi and then grinned. He said something to Fareel and the two men laughed again. Debbi angered and closed her fist.

  Sahrin reached out and seized Debbi's hand in a firm grip. His smile was gone, replaced with a solemn expression. Slowly Debbi's fingers uncurled, once more revealing the badge. Sahrin picked it up. He held it out with contented grunt.

  Sahrin pinned the badge to his tunic, just below his own cracked talisman. He straightened in the saddle and regarded her regally. Debbi turned forward with a sense of pride and accomplishment for reaching out to the fierce anouk warrior.

  Martool shouted something and immediately the chanouks halted and fell into a crouch. Debbi followed suit, bending low over the shoulders of her mount, its coarse mane standing stiff between her fingers as she gripped it for security. Over the howl of the wind in the canyon, she made out a distant inhuman cry and then a gunshot.

  Debbi rose in her stirrups, but Martool didn't move. Debbi became agitated. That was definitely Ross's Peacemaker. She was about to kick her mount forward and try to squeeze past Martool when Sahrin called out to her, using her name though poorly pronounced. She glanced back over her shoulder in astonishment. Sahrin shook his head. He turned his gaze to Martool, who appeared to be listening. Debbi sank back down against her chanouk. Her heart hammered in her ribs; the delay seemed forever. Didn't Martool say Ross didn't have much time? What was she waiting for?

  Martool spoke to Fareel and Sahrin. They reached down for small leather straps that hung from their belts and hooked them to tannis rings embedded in their saddle horns. Then they kneed their mounts, which reared back on their haunches and dug their fore claws deep into the canyon wall.