Telepath

by Jolea M. Harrison

  “You’re from Thylin?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right. All this looks in order. See that you go on the next transport.”

  “Is there a problem? We’ve been through Trophan before, and—”

  “Two men were murdered here yesterday, by strangers, much like yourselves. Has the whole town on edge. You’d do well to move on quickly.”

  Ralion nodded, but sudden fear made it difficult to keep his voice even. “We’ll do that. Have you caught the man who did it?”

  “There were several men, and they apparently had a leader. Dark man, about your height but slighter in build, and strange eyes I’m told, though I don’t know what that means. You see anyone like that since you’ve been here?”

  Ralion swallowed, hardly able to keep his hands from visibly shaking. “No, and hopefully we won’t. Bad business for you, sir. Our condolences to the families.”

  “Can’t find any family. Can’t find out who they are either.” He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing at Ralion. “They looked a bit like the two of you, strong men, with the look of some training to them, and they were armed. What business did you say you’re in?”

  “I didn’t say, but we deal in manufactured goods,” Ralion said. “I hope you catch the men who did it.”

  “It’s not likely. Witnesses saw a midrange ship leaving the area, just after midday yesterday. No, who ever did these deaths got away, but they’ll not likely escape the System. Central Control will be waiting for that.”

  “What kind of ship?” Ralion dared to ask, hoping the man wouldn’t think his interest a cause for suspicion.

  “An X-class. Haven’t been able to trace the registry yet.”

  “Well, hopefully they won’t escape Central Control. Good luck to you, sir.”

  “Good day then. See that you’re on that transport.”

  Ralion nodded agreeably, while Sheed sipped his drink, smiling in farewell. They sat silent for a moment, waiting for attention to leave them. Ralion spent the time trying to calm his racing heart.

  “He’s still in the System,” Sheed said, pushing his plate away.

  “Who? Maralt, or Dynan and Dain?”

  “Maybe both.”

  “We don’t know if the X-class midrange was the XR-30. It could just as easily be Maralt’s Zephron. No registry, same thing.”

  “Zephrons aren’t usually classified in the X-group, or mistaken for one,” Sheed said.

  “The only way to know for certain is to go to our set coordinates. If the Constable finds out, we’ll deal with him then.”

  Sheed nodded tightly and stood, dropping a few silver coins on the table, and hoisted his pack. Ralion followed him, nodding pleasantly to the Constable as they moved by him for the door. They spent an excruciating amount of time pretending to window-shop. The Constable didn’t appear. Ralion didn’t doubt the man was watching them through the big open windows of the inn. Slowly they drifted from shop to shop, moving in the general direction that would take them back to Port. It was also the same direction that would lead them out of town.

  At an opening between two buildings, far enough away from the inn that they couldn’t be seen, Ralion glanced casually around, and saw no one paying them particular attention. He nodded, and Sheed led the way to the next street, pausing there to look out. They turned right, then took that road out of town, moving quickly into the wood.

  They found a path recently beaten through the thick tangle, following the track. When they reached the clearing, they stopped. “There were a lot of men here,” Ralion said, leaning to examine the ground.

  Sheed pulled in a sudden breath. “Take a look here.” He nodded down before him and Ralion saw a pool of drying blood. “There’s more over there by that log. Let’s get out to the coordinates.”

  Ralion nodded, but he had little hope that the XR-30 would be there. His only other slim hope, more a fervent wish, was that the XR-30 never landed, and none of this had anything to do with Dynan and Dain, or their guards.

  After following the beaten and trampled path, they found the field. They found patches of blood just inside the wood line that stopped abruptly on open ground. Faintly in the bent grass, they saw the unmistakable imprint left by the ship’s ramp. The trail of blood led to it, then stopped.

  “We’ve got to get a message to Carryn,” Sheed said.

  “We’re going to need to hire a ship too. Let’s move.”

  They made it back to the Port landing, trying to find both a ship and a way to communicate with Carryn, which required the use of a comterm. The Port Captain wasn’t inclined to help them with either.

  “The Constable was here looking for you two, and told me to see that you were onboard your transport. It’s loading now, so you’d best be on it.”

  Ralion nodded, glancing at Sheed. He reached in his pocket. “Our plans have changed. No offense to you, but we really don’t have time...” He pulled out a dermal injector and stuck it against the Captain’s neck, “...to argue about it.”

  Sheed helped catch the man as he collapsed, quickly checking his pulse as he eased him down to the floor just inside the doorway. While Sheed kept watch, Ralion crossed the room to the comterm, and started entering a bypass code that Allie had given him. A moment later he had the access he needed.

  “All right, message sent. Now for that ship. There’s a midrange in Bay three.”

  “What happened to hiring one?” Sheed asked following Ralion out.

  “The same thing that happened with Port. He’s going to wake up soon enough, and we don’t want to be here when that happens.”

  The midrange sat, engines warming in a small, cramped bay filled with crates. Unlike the XR-30, this ship was basically a rectangle with engines strapped to either side. Ralion and Sheed hurried onboard, knowing there was just the pilot to contend with after checking the crew roster. The pilot, startled at their sudden appearance, gave them only a moment of difficulty.

  “We need to go now,” Ralion said.

  “I’m waiting for Port authorization,” the man said, backing into the pilot’s seat.

  “Port’s a little preoccupied right now. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

  “Look, I can’t leave without notification.”

  “You have to make this hard,” Ralion said, then had the man out of the seat, sleeping peacefully. “Let’s go.”

  “What are we going to do with him?”

  “Next Port, we’ll drop him off. The XR-30 was last tracked heading for Trenmar.”

  “They could have changed course a dozen times since then. Landed and gone.”

  “I know, but it’s all we have.” Ralion punched up the engines, and they were soon on their way.

  “Why would they go to Trenmar?” Sheed asked, watching the scanners for any pursuit. “It’s not on the route. Ralion, Trenmar is the Capitol City. They’d never go there.”

  “Not unless they had to. I’m not saying that’s where they are, but in Trenmar, we might be able to access Central Control, and find their trail from there.”

  “If they left the System—”

  “The Constable said they hadn’t. The XR-30 is hard to track but this time Central Control is looking for them. I think they’re still here.”

  “I hope you’re right. One or both of them are hurt. They’re alone, and Maralt is here.”

  Ralion looked at him, feeling an unspeakable dread fill his heart. Since his parents’ death, everything had gone wrong. He closed his eyes against sudden realization. “We never should have gone to Cobalt. Maralt knew we would. He knew we had to. That’s why they were murdered, Sheed, to get us away from Dynan and Dain. Maralt didn’t believe for an instant that we wouldn’t go. Now, he’s out here after them.”

  ~*~

  Chapter 17

  The ship jarred to a halt, landing gear stabilizing the impact, engines whining. He heard Dain in his head giving him a hard time about his lack of piloting skills. Dynan reached to start the shut down process, starin
g out the view screen without seeing the canopy of trees marching along the hilltops, or the towering hills that rose almost right next to the ship. Off in the distance, beyond another hill and clump of trees, a thin wire of smoke wound into the pristine blue. A house maybe, tucked away from civilization.

  Dynan activated the cloak, watching the dried blood on his fingers crack and chip off, sprinkling the controls with red flecks. He looked at his hand, staring at it for a length of time, turning the emerald ring on his finger. He couldn’t remember putting it on.

  He didn’t know how long he’d flown. Already, he almost didn’t remember the act of landing the ship. He didn’t know where he was. He stared at the blood on his hands, rubbing the flecks off. Some of it wouldn’t come. He rubbed harder, digging a fingernail across the top of his hand, down his finger, and he saw that the blood was everywhere; on the controls, on skin, on his clothes. His shirt was damp with it. In some places it was still oozing out of him, warm, soaking into the fabric of his pants and his shirt. He thought he should do something about that; clean the wounds, treat them. The medic kit was there in the back panel. He told himself he needed to get it out and stop the bleeding.

  Or not, the next thought came. No, really he should sit and sleep and maybe never wake up again. Death would take away the unendurable reality his life had abruptly become. He would sleep, and bleed to death. He wouldn’t feel a thing, he told himself. It would just be like going to sleep. He nodded. Decided. He closed his eyes and let the dark come, drawing it around him like a blanket.

  “You can’t do this. For one thing, you aren’t bleeding enough to die from it. It’ll stop on its own, but you’ll regret the pain these wounds are going to bring you later if you don’t take care of them.”

  Dynan opened his eyes, squinting in the blinding white world that surrounded him. The shape of a man emerged to stand before him. He had black hair that hung around his shoulders, and Telaerin blue eyes. Dynan thought he should know him, but he forgot that the next moment and he was too tired to keep trying to remember.

  “You’re going to survive this.”

  “He’s better than me. I can’t do this without him.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” The man nodded behind him, and Dynan glanced after the gesture. “Go on. Go back. You have to take care of yourself. Dynan, you have to live.”

  The white light faded to the blank view screen, the controls of the XR-30 emerging through the fog. The moan that escaped his lips filled the hollow spaces. His hands dug into the armrests of the seat, fingers clenching so hard he thought they might break.

  He pushed to his feet, but couldn’t stand. His knees pounded into the grated floor. He didn’t want to get up again, and the dark swallowed him once more. It was a kindness, he thought, the relief that flooded his mind.

  It didn’t last. Nothing good ever lasted, he thought. His mother died ridiculously young. His father murdered before he saw fifty. The life of his little sister, a baby practically, extinguished at twelve. Melgan Lon. Brendin Moch. Roth Perquin. Too many of his friends. And now Dain.

  He asked him to make sure they all didn’t die for nothing. Dynan couldn’t fathom what difference it would make. He saw himself then, extracting a kind of vicious revenge on those responsible, the savage actions shaking through him. It was a bloody thing, what he envisioned, and he wondered if he was capable. He thought he might be. He started shaking again, still lying on the floor of the flight deck. He wondered if he lived what kind of man he would be if all he was living for was to kill. Kill the killers, he thought and drifted away.

  Consciousness returned. He got up, fell, blacked out and came back, until he was crawling into the hold, dragging out the medic kit there. He discovered he had lost a lot of blood. He knew from past experience what to do about the new holes in his body. He applied the usual medications that would stop the bleeding. He tried sealing the cuts closed, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate.

  He managed to get to his bed, strip his bloodied clothes off and crawl under the covers where another dark wall came for him. Before it took him, his mind left his body, and he went to the clearing in the woods. It was empty. He sat by the log, saying his brother’s name, thinking maybe he could reach him still. How could death divide them? They were telepaths. Dynan just had to concentrate hard enough. He’d reach across the chasm and find him.

  There was only the endless dark and rising pain that soon became all encompassing and inescapable. Trying knocked him senseless. When he woke, he wasn’t in his room anymore, but in Dain’s, on the floor beside his bunk. Getting up hurt. Sitting on the bed hurt. Looking around the room at all his brother’s things hurt. Dynan stopped looking, dragged to his feet and went back to his own room. The emptiness of the ship filled him.

  Movement sent him into another bout of darkness, waking again later, although time and its passage no longer held the same meaning. It moved in excruciating detail, slowly and rapidly at once. He woke, staying on his feet long enough to bathe, washing the encrusted blood off. He managed to patch the more serious wounds. Medicating the scrapes and scratches again. He sat in the hold, trying to think what he should do. He needed to move the ship. That was as far as his thought would take him. He needed to move so Maralt wouldn’t find him.

  Dynan got up, moving to the flight deck, swaying and tripping. It was hard to walk and he felt himself shaking. He tried to think where he was while the ship came to life, but forgot what System he was in. He had to wait for navigation to come online to find out. Rynald. Creal Nyant’s System.

  The thought came that maybe he could get help in Trenmar. That was the capitol city of Rynald, the government seat, and where Creal’s Palace was located. Maybe, the King would be able to give Dynan the means to safely communicate with Trea. Maybe Maralt wouldn’t expect him to go to Creal, and so wouldn’t find him so fast.

  Dynan thought it over as best he could, trying to sort through the dangers and political difficulties he might face but couldn’t do it. His mind kept wandering down paths best not taken. All of them led back to the clearing and darkness. A beeping control brought him back, asking him to enter the course heading. He had to go somewhere. Trenmar was as good a place as any.

  Chapter 18

  Dynan sat in the anteroom of King Creal Nyant, aware of the stares and whispers around him that stopped abruptly whenever he looked up. He waited while Creal’s secretary determined whether he was telling the truth. That they required a voiceprint to confirm his identity unnerved him. If he couldn’t get in to see the King, he doubted he’d make it out of the System. Not with Maralt waiting for him. Dynan had seen him at the Landing Port, but managed to lose himself in a crowd, arriving finally at the Palace, hoping to get help from the only person with the power to give it.

  A shudder ran through him as he looked down at his hand, emerald and sapphire glittering in his eyes before they closed, and grief threatened to overwhelm him. Fourteen hours ago, his brother had been killed. It felt like a lifetime already, each moment stretching out to encompass infinity.

  The whispers stilled, and Creal’s secretary approached. “Your Highness,” he said, still sounding as if he didn’t quite believe it. “I’ve informed the King of your presence. He is, however, quite busy today.”

  Dynan glanced up at the man, his vision blurring. He nodded.

  “Perhaps if you come back tomorrow. I might be able to schedule an appointment.”

  “I’ll wait. I won’t take much time.”

  The secretary’s lips pursed. “It would really be better if you come back...later.”

  “I have to wait.”

  The man didn’t look happy, but Dynan stopped looking at him, and after a moment, the secretary went off.

  People came and left again after their audience with the King. Dynan waited, staring vacantly at the floor, seeing the clearing in his mind, and Dain, begging him to run.

  “The King will see you now,” the secretary said, startling him. “Very briefly, Your Highn
ess. There’s a scheduling conflict that your presence will complicate. I’m sure you understand.”

  Dynan didn’t understand, but nodded anyway as he was hurried down a short corridor, and into Creal’s office, wincing in pain the sudden movement caused. His body ached everywhere, covered in scratches and scrapes. The sight of tree branches and twigs slapping against him flashed into his mind, and he blinked.

  Creal glanced at him, waiting impatiently while Dynan stood before the desk. He’d met him twice before, once at his father’s Coronation, and again at his funeral, remembering little of either occasion. The King’s appearance hadn’t changed, except for a few more grey hairs in his brown beard and hairline. He was a tall man, big and imposing.

  “Why are you here?” Creal asked, dispensing with the normal pleasantries or even courtesy. Dynan swallowed, suddenly unable to find his voice, uncertain how he would present what he needed. Beyond help, he wasn’t even sure. “I haven’t got all day.”

  “I need help.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Creal said, frowning. “I thought I made it clear to Drake that I needed time to think it over.”

  “No, not that,” Dynan whispered, his throat constricting. “I need a message sent to Carryn Adaeryn, and a—”

  “A message? Is that all? Surely that can be arranged through the Guild.”

  “—a place to stay.”

  Creal stopped at that. “A place to stay? You mean here, in the Palace? No. I’m afraid that can’t be arranged right now. I’m not unsympathetic to your—”

  “I don’t need your sympathy,” Dynan snapped. Raising his voice made his head hurt.

  “You can’t stay here. I’ve got several appointments stacking up outside my office. If you’ll—”

  “Maralt is here, waiting for me right now. You think this is some sort of game? If you don’t do as I ask—”