Allie's War Season Two

by JC Andrijeski

  But still...and Wreg hoped his thinking along such lines wasn’t purely rationalization...the acting in those early years didn’t account for all of the changes he saw in the Sword now, at least not from Wreg’s perception.

  Nenzi had matured in the intervening decades.

  Wreg found him an altogether different person, in fact. This new version had even more of the traits that had made him a good soldier back in the day...and far fewer of those which had reflected on him so poorly in the past. Even before he’d killed the boy and reunited with his Elaerian self, Wreg found he’d been happy to follow this new person, this “Dehgoies,” into that dangerous mess in D.C.. At the time, that surprised him greatly, even though he’d heard, of course, who the man’s wife was.

  Like the others, he’d assumed he’d coerced her in some way...or at worst, taken advantage of her naiveté to advance himself in status.

  He didn’t think that anymore. In fact, the Sword’s relationship with the Bridge contributed to his newfound respect for the man that Nenzi had become. He’d become someone Wreg could look up to, even admire.

  He’d also become his friend.

  Exhaling in a slow breath, Wreg rubbed his face with a hand and realized he needed a shave, and probably a shower.

  Some food wouldn’t be amiss, either.

  He was just starting to back out of the room, when the Elaerian nearly made him jump out of his skin.

  “Gods!” The Sword’s hand reached out, from the bed. “Allie! Allie! Is that you?”

  It was unnerving, like watching a corpse rise.

  Wreg blinked at first, unable to move.

  Then, slowly, he reentered the room, shutting the door behind him.

  If he was going to start screaming again, the others didn’t need to hear it.

  The seer on the bed was breathing harder. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he continued to reach out, his eyes unseeing. Wreg watched in disbelief as his spine seemed to arch in some extreme duress of feeling.

  “Allie...” the Elaerian choked. “Allie...please be there...please be you...”

  Wreg walked closer to the bed, trying to decide if he should do anything. Was this some final death rattle? A confused hallucination as his body ended? Even as he thought it, his light smacked up against another presence.

  Wreg blinked, coming to a dead stop.

  Once he had, he realized he knew the presence. He knew...but it couldn’t be. He scanned the Sword’s form in disbelief. Whatever it was, it coiled around his body, strangling his light in its attempts to get close to him. Wreg wondered at first if she had come back from one of the Barrier’s places of death, perhaps to comfort him in his last moments...

  But the presence lingered, strengthened.

  Soon, it flooded the whole room, gold and white ribbons of light, brighter than the sun...soft enough to take his breath.

  Wreg scanned more deeply. Too deeply, as it turned out...he found himself shoved violently out of the space by Dehgoies. But even that felt less out of control than what had killed one of his infiltrators a few days earlier.

  Retreating a few steps in respect, Wreg watched from a distance, still in shock when he saw the female’s presence coil even more tightly around his friend.

  The Elaerian’s arm curled around himself, thin from the weight he’d lost. He hugged his own chest, tears still coursing down his face.

  “Allie...” he murmured. He spoke an endearment in Prexci...then more of them. He switched to using her language, the human English, still speaking so low Wreg could barely hear him. Wreg didn’t get close enough to even attempt to translate the words with his light, but pain contorted the Elaerian’s features once more as he listened to her response. For a long time, Wreg watched them speak to one another.

  As he did, what he was seeing really sank in.

  She was alive. The Bridge wasn’t visiting him from the death place.

  She was alive.

  Even as the thought sank in, Wreg felt a kind of fever take him. The implications of her being alive churned in his mind, and the fever worsened, becoming a darker feeling of rage.

  Those fuckers in the Adhipan had done this to him.

  They’d simulated her death, somehow.

  He watched the Elaerian and his mate, saw the Sword’s face crease then soften as he held her light to his, as if cradling his own heart in his chest. Already, he was breathing more deeply...his light moved around his long form as if it had remembered how. From his expression, Alyson hadn’t been a party to this. She hadn’t done this to him...which meant it had been done against her will, too.

  Wreg’s rage boiled hotter as he looked at them together. He watched the transformation in his friend’s light, felt the pain coming off the two of them, even from where he stood, and bit back his fury with every ounce of his will.

  Those motherfuckers would pay.

  They would pay if Wreg had to spend his life in the cause of it.

  JON STARED AT the Adhipan leader, his face frozen in an expression that made it difficult for Balidor to know if the human even comprehended his words.

  The joy that had stood out in his features upon finding out she lived faded as the infiltrator watched. Jon’s eyes turned confused, almost lost, just before they shifted back to the wasted form on the military style bunk. The blank confusion was somehow worse for Balidor than outright anger.

  “What?” Jon said. “You did what?”

  “It was necessary, Jon,” Balidor said. “I assure you, it was. I did not like doing it, believe me...but we now know the limits of our options.”

  “‘The limits of our options?’” Jon said. Rather than holding anger, his voice remained lost-sounding. “I can’t believe you. I really can’t believe you did this...”

  Tears stood out in his eyes when he looked at Balidor next.

  “Jesus, ‘Dor,” he said, half-choking. “Look at her!”

  Balidor did not answer.

  He forced himself to focus also on the female Elaerian.

  The train moved her body in short sways as it clacked down the tracks. They’d brought her on board in a gurney after meeting the humans in Shanghai. He and the other seers had been forced to clear the way for her over an hour in advance, pushing humans not to notice as they loaded her into one of the private cabins in a car situated towards the rear of the long passenger train. They bought out tickets for over half the train, and still Balidor felt eyes on them.

  It had been over a week, and she still did not look well.

  Her hair hung sweated to her back. Balidor knew a shower might help, but even so, a distinctly unhealthy look remained in the weight of her dark and light curls...and even her skin. The gunshot wound had mostly healed, but she still had a bandage where he’d pinpointed her chest in such a way as to simulate hitting her heart, while missing it by a hair’s breadth.

  That had truly been the riskiest part of the illusion...the scene of murder. To do it right, he had to come close to killing her for real.

  She still looked dangerously thin. She had a tendency to lay wrapped around herself since she’d come out of the tank, and Balidor felt enough of Dehgoies around her to know she was fighting her way through the collar to reach him every second she could. The drugs helped with that, but only marginally...and those were making her sick too, further prolonging her recovery.

  Balidor folded his arms tighter, looking back at the human.

  He shoved the tendrils of guilt angrily away from his light.

  “We had to do it, Jon,” he said, his voice rougher that time. “We had to know if it would kill her, if we separated them. We could not tell her. We could not. You must understand this. She would approve of the principle...”

  “Approve of the principle?” Jon said, incredulous. “That you planned to shoot her? Then stick her in a metal box while she wasted away to a skeleton?”

  “Not exactly,” Balidor said, gesturing in a half hand-symbol with one hand. “Jon, you must understand. We could not give her d
etails as to how...much less when we might test this. It was critical in particular that she not know when...”

  “That’s fucking crazy!” Jon burst out. “When did you decide this? When did you decide to do this, ‘Dori?”

  “Jon,” Balidor warned. “She wanted to know if she could sever things with him. She wanted to know that more than any of us did. She asked Vash to try this with her, and with what we know now, it is good that we made the attempt in this way first, because that would most certainly have killed her. Really killed her, Jon. Or else we would have had to find some way to bring Dehgoies here and help him to reestablish the connection to her personally...”

  But Jon continued to shake his head, uncomprehending.

  “How could you not tell her?” he said. “How could you not warn her that you would be doing this?”

  “We could not,” Balidor said, clicking sharply. “We could not, Jon...you must see it! Dehgoies would have felt it, if she had known. He would have sent everything he had at us, trying to stop it. There was a danger as it was that he might come after her...”

  “Well, for crying out loud, ‘Dor...you can’t exactly blame him, can you?”

  “...And if it had worked,” Balidor cut in, biting back his impatience. “It would have been better if he did not know she remained alive.”

  “Better?” Jon stared at him. “Better for who? And for how long? You don’t think he would have figured it out eventually?”

  Balidor’s jaw hardened. “Probably. Well...definitely, at some point. But in the meantime, she would have been safe, Jon.”

  Balidor stared down at the bed, feeling his jaw clench further.

  “...She would have been free of him,” he finished bitterly.

  When the human wiped his eyes again, staring at the form on the bed, Balidor again found himself relieved he had waited to show Jon that his adoptive sister was alive. If Jon had seen her when they first pulled her out of that tank, he would not be reacting anywhere close to as well as this.

  She had truly looked like a corpse. She really had.

  Pale, with thin limbs like something from a death camp run by humans, she’d scarcely been breathing. He’d lifted her out of the gel inside the tank and carried her gingerly out of the Barrier construct chamber, half-afraid he might snap one of her bones accidentally. Wiping her skin free of the gel as best he could, he laid her on a bed in one of the back rooms of the compound and drew a thick blanket over her.

  He watched as her light rejoined that of the living world.

  He’d worried at first that the construct might slow her ability to connect with the Barrier proper, but it did not.

  It also didn’t slow her reconnection with her mate.

  Within seconds, it seemed, Balidor had felt a presence appear around hers.

  Tentative at first, it whispered over her form...

  Then, before he could confirm the identity of the person behind it, light flooded the room in a hot wash, bright enough to shock Balidor’s aleimi.

  He’d taken a step back in reflex, taking himself out of the aura of her light. He scarcely blinked and the other had already overpowered the space.

  The new presence wrapped around her aleimic body with a desperation he could almost feel, that closed his throat in spite of the sparks of anger it inflamed in his light. It slid into her like she was sustenance...water after the drought. Despite how frail she was, it seemed to lean in...as if resting on her.

  Balidor stood as still as death, seeing her eyes flutter.

  She took a deeper breath as the other Elaerian explored her aleimi. The breath after was deeper still, expanding her lungs. The whole time, the presence slid through her, touching her lightly at first, as if she were some kind of damned sacred object, until gradually it grew more and more deliberate, and again Balidor felt that desperation behind it.

  Balidor watched, getting glimmers of feeling off the two of them as Dehgoies confirmed to himself that it really was her. He kept his light as still as he possibly could as the seconds ticked by. He knew any false move...anything to make him visible in the Barrier at that moment...and he was likely dead, on the spot.

  He watched the two Elaerians coil around one another. He saw her face begin to smooth, a relief in her expression so profound that it made his throat clench as he looked at her. He watched her fingers open, her head sink into the pillow that he’d lain under her head. Her light expanded more, sliding deeper into the presence that hovered around hers. The interaction went from desperate to relieved to increasingly intimate...until Allie turned halfway to her back, tears in her eyes. She was crying even as Balidor saw her nod, her lips moving in a slow murmur.

  Balidor remembered she wasn’t wearing a collar anymore, either.

  She was talking to the son of a bitch, he realized.

  Reassuring him.

  Pain crossed her features, bringing tears welling higher in her eyes, until they made thin trails down her hollow cheeks. Frowning, she bit her lip as she listened to something he said in return...right before her expression relaxed once more, flooded with a curl of his light as he wrapped himself around her.

  Her expression grew so open that time, Balidor found himself wanting to look away. It crossed his mind that they might get even more intimate if he didn’t make some attempt to separate them, at least a little.

  Still, he stood there, watching without trying to intervene.

  After what felt like a long time where they spoke to one another, Balidor felt the male coil into her, then hold her there, as if to hide her from whoever else might be in the room. He hovered over her, scanning her surroundings.

  Balidor felt the protectiveness of the gesture, and found himself reacting a little, in spite of himself.

  He tried to decide what to do. He wondered whether he could risk collaring her so soon after she’d nearly died from separation, or if he should just let this little reunion play out, despite what it risked. A collar wouldn’t keep them apart entirely, but it would block Dehgoies enough to keep her from being completely immersed in his light. For the same reason, it would infuriate him...it might even unhinge him entirely, given what they’d just been through.

  Hell, it could do the same to her.

  He was still thinking about this when Syrimne’s presence dropped the pretense and began to openly scan the surrounding Barrier space.

  The space where Balidor stood.

  For the first time, he panicked. It crossed his mind in a flash that he was likely dead, that the seer would see him. Despite Dehgoies’ weakened state, he had no doubt that the seer would try to kill him where he stood.

  But the presence grew entirely still, as if listening.

  For a long time, it didn’t seem to move at all. It coiled around Alyson, still deepening its connection to her light, entwining their strands, reassuring her in a way Balidor could almost feel. He also felt the other male’s fear, the terror underlying that protectiveness...it was strong enough that it seemed to paralyze the Elaerian, and split his attention in a way that almost fragmented it. He would focus on her...then shift his attention outside of her again, looking for threats...then return to her in a panic...then flip back...

  Watching this play out, Balidor decided the male hadn’t seen him after all.

  Even so, the scare convinced him. He needed to get a collar on her. Now...or all of them were dead. He was about to hit his VR link to request that Dorje bring one down from the upper floor...

  When a voice rose in the Barrier space.

  Balidor... it said.

  The voice spoke softly, in almost a whisper.

  Balidor froze, his hand halfway to his ear. The word came through as clear as metal striking glass, despite the construct’s walls.

  Balidor, the voice said, softer. I know you’re there, somewhere.

  The infiltrator held his breath, fighting to keep his light invisible. He lowered his vibration until it felt like crouching inside a shell of thick glass.

  Balidor, Dehgo
ies said again. I know you brought her out, because I know you put her there. You’re watching us right now...possibly even listening to us, although I doubt even you’d be that bold...

  He paused, and Balidor felt a surge of emotion off the Elaerian, enough that he flinched back.

  I may not be able to see you, Dehgoies said. ...But rest assured, old friend...I will find you.

  Another pause, another pulse of feeling off that sun-bright light.

  If you hurt my wife again...if you touch so much as a hair on her head...you have no idea what hell I will unleash...not just on you, but on all of yours. I will take down every stone of this civilization if I have to...

  Fire sparked out of the aleimic coil as it hovered protectively over Allie.

  I am coming, you son of a bitch, it told him.

  ...I am coming.

  The memory burned bright in Balidor’s light, even now.

  He’d dreamed about that voice. Hearing it again, after all those years, was like a shadowed nightmare come to life, whispering out from beneath the ashes of the fires that burned all through that endless-seeming war...during the whole of the actual fighting and after. Everything changed for seers after Syrimne. He had been the beginning of the end. When it happened, Balidor remembered thinking it had been the Displacement itself. Even now, with all that had occurred, he had not yet felt the darkness of those first decades of the last century.

  He had never forgotten it. He would never forget it. Balidor heard that same voice while tracking the Elaerian in WWI. He’d heard it off and on in some of his most vivid dreams ever since. He had truly thought they’d killed him in those fields in Bavaria. He had looked at a corpse, had thought he looked at Syrimne’s dead body. But it had been a trick of Galaith’s...one that Vash presumably knew about, as well. They had decided to “neutralize” him, rather than kill him outright.

  They’d believed the damned prophecies that he’d be saved...that the Bridge would redeem him, turn him into some kind of force for good.