strongholdrising

by Lisanne Norman

Though Toueesut stood relatively still, his swarm companions did not. Like waves on a restless sea, trilling and chirping, they wove around their speaker and each other in an intricate dance that was almost too fast for the eye to follow.

  “May the sun shine on you, Toueesut,” murmured Kusac, trying not to look directly at them. Already their gyrations were beginning to make him feel nauseous.

  Immediately Toueesut turned to his swarm, gesturing them to move back. As he emitted a high-pitched riff of sound, they began to slow down until they were almost stationary.

  “Apologies we make for crowding you when you are not yet used to the company of so many people. Not long will we be staying. If the matter was not of great importance to you I would not be bothering you at this time.”

  Kusac’s nausea was already lifting as he focused his attention on the being before him. When standing at rest, they lost much of their almost balletic grace, their long arms and forward leaning posture making them look as if they were shambling.

  Toueesut stood barely four feet tall, and was dressed in the usual sartorial elegance of his kind. Beneath the elaborate multicolored swirling embroidery, it was just possible to tell that his jacket was red, as were the trousers with their broad decorated panel down the outside of each leg. A shirt of deep blue, its pleated neckline almost concealed beneath the numerous gold pendants and chains that hung round his neck, completed his outfit.

  Toueesut’s eyes gleamed out at him from under heavily ridged brows. His mouth, barely visible beneath his bristling mustache, was open in a smile. It was sometimes hard to remember that these Neanderthals, to use a Human word, were the communications experts of the Alliance.

  “What is it, Toueesut? How can we help you?” he asked.

  “This we are bringing for you from Palace,” the Touiban said, handing him a box. “Ambassador M’szudoe of the Primes is sending this to you and saying to me it is your torcs.”

  He accepted it, holding it close against his chest, trying to concentrate on what Toueesut was saying.

  “Better understanding there has been between our peoples these last few months so now you are knowing that we have another way of communicating between ourselves. We hear the music of the minds of those around us, including yourself. Knowing as we do of your misfortune at the hands of an evil member of the Primes, we are thinking that maybe we can help you.”

  He stiffened, displeased that his condition was a matter for open discussion, then common sense took over as well as curiosity. Mind-music? T’Chebbi was right, he should have read his father’s report about the Touibans.

  “I’m sorry, Toueesut, but I don’t see how you can help. I know you’re the comm tech specialists, but…”

  “You say the most important word, friend Kusac,” Toueesut interrupted, wagging a gold beringed finger at him. “Communications. Mind-music is not unlike telepathy, both of which are being means of communications, are they not? Devices we can make. Before now you have not been asking us for any help in this field, but Garras came to us for advice with the wrist psi damper units he was making as gifts for your midwinter festival last year. We helped him so perhaps is possible we can help you. Nothing is lost in the trying, is it?”

  He hesitated, not wishing to offend them. It was such a long shot it wasn’t worth the effort in his opinion.

  “He can’t use his Talent, Toueesut,” interrupted T’Chebbi. “Device was implanted in his brain making new connections. It’s gone, but left connections. They cause pain if he tries to use what’s left of his Talent.”

  Toueesut’s head bobbed in an affirmative as his swarm began to trill gently. “Hearing of this we are. All I am asking for now is to see information about implant and what it did, then maybe, just maybe, we can help. To even be without the pain would be good, would it not, friend Kusac?”

  For the first time hope surged through him. He looked at T’Chebbi who shrugged and smiled. “Nothing to lose by trying, as Toueesut says.”

  “Vanna has the information. Tell her I said you could have a copy of what you need.”

  Toueesut’s gnarled hand reached out to take Kusac’s, his fingers gently dancing over his palm. “Sad we are to see this happening to you, friend Kusac. Like family we are to each other now. Anything we can try to help you we will do.”

  “You’re very kind,” he murmured. “We’re pleased to have your swarm in our village.”

  “Not swarm, hive,” corrected Toueesut. “We are a breeding family. We have our mates with us. Sometime soon you must visit.”

  That shocked him. Though Sholans, and the Alliance, worked on the Touiban homeworld and the colony of Teesul in their towns and cities, access to the hives was strictly forbidden.

  Toueesut cocked his head to one side, mustache and whiskered chin bristling as his smile grew wider. “Not knowing you were all along that we had our mates with us. Long time now we have been interested in Sholan Talent and more so now you have Human mind-mates. In the Alliance you are most like us so time now to make stronger bonds between our kinds. Time to exchange much information we neither of us tell other species. Already we are practicing your custom of exchanging visitor between our home and theirs. When our mates bear their young, we will become the first hive on Shola.”

  He didn’t know what to say and found himself wondering if Touibans dressed their cubs in as garish clothing as they wore themselves.

  “We got more visitors coming, Toueesut,” said T’Chebbi, filling his silence. “We’re going to sort out accommodation for them. Is the U’Churians who helped us at Jalna. Captain Tirak and his crew, plus Annuur the Cabbaran and his sept.”

  “Ah, this is good news. Much we have heard of Cabbarrans, and U’Churians. Met Ambassadors Shaqee and Mrocca at the hearing for Chemerian Taira who kidnap your young ones.” He frowned, bushy eyebrows almost concealing his eyes. “Going now we are to diggings. So useful it is to have the new female Zashou and sometimes Rezac. They know the workings of devices we excavate. Perhaps you come there later and bring your little one with the sweet mind-music. Missed her have our ladies. Soon I think they will be wanting young of their own.” He gave a deep sigh but his eyes twinkled.

  With that, he turned and was engulfed by his companions as they swarmed toward the vehicle landing pad on the outskirts of the village.

  As the nausea hit him again, T’Chebbi pulled him around to face her.

  “Careful, Kusac. You forgot the knack of how to watch them.”

  He nodded, then remembered the box in his hands. Opening it, he saw two bronze torcs nestling on a bed of gossamer-fine white cloth.

  “Heard the Primes found them,” said T’Chebbi. “And they wrapped them in white for honor!”

  “I don’t think they know that custom,” he said, touching them with a disbelieving finger. Carrie had given him his the day their first cub had been conceived— the cub that had died when Carrie had fought the Death Challenge with Ralla Vailkoi, the bride chosen for him by his father. The other was his original one, given to him by his parents, and in turn given by him to Carrie as his chosen life-mate.

  “They know. Look at material. Makes even jotha seem coarse. They know importance of what they returned to you. Put yours on, Kusac.”

  Taking his out, he handed her the box. As the familiar weight settled in its usual place round his neck, he found himself beginning to shake uncontrollably. T’Chebbi’s arm went instantly around his shoulders, pulling him close against her chest. “Is all right,” she said gently. “Been too much at once. First time walking outside villa, Toueesut’s offer to give you back some Talent, now this. When we seen Naeso, we go see your mother, give Carrie her torc.”

  He nodded his head against her shoulder, unable for now to trust his voice.

  the Couana, Zhal-S’Asha, 20th day (October)

  A hand touched his and he became aware of his name being called.

  “Kusac. Wake up. You should be in your bed, not here.”

  He opened his eyes and found himself l
ooking into Banner’s face. Surprised, he blinked, then realized he’d fallen asleep at the table, head sprawled across his forearms.

  Groggy with exhaustion, he let Banner help him to his feet and out of the lounge to his room. Once there, he collapsed on his bed, vaguely aware of being undressed before the covers were thrown over him.

  “I’ll wake you for first meal,” said Banner, getting up. “Just do me a favor and keep that damned torc of yours on tonight. I don’t fancy going flying across the room again.”

  Prime world, Zhal-Ghyakulla, 25th day (June)

  For two days Zayshul, worried about what Kezule would do, had to put up with odd little asides from her colleagues who’d heard about the broken chair in her quarters. She was stopped in the corridors by the very people she despised, the cognoscenti who reflected the moods of the Court, asking how she was, obviously soliciting her acquaintanceship for some obscure reason of their own. But of Kezule there was no sign, until the morning the Medical Director called her to his office.

  Her heart leaped when she saw the General was with him, then fell as she feared he’d told her superior he knew about the growth tanks.

  “Doctor Zayshul! How good of you to join us,” Zsoyshuu said, getting to his feet. “I believe congratulations are due. The General tells me the Emperor himself has agreed to your marriage.”

  Stunned, she looked from one to the other of the two males.

  Kezule moved smoothly to her side, gasping her arm and holding it firmly. “Don’t look so surprised, Zayshul,” he said gently, his tone belied by the strength of his grip. “I know we agreed to keep it quiet for now, but Emperor Cheu’ko’h, may his memory be revered for all time, was so delighted that he insisted on bringing forward the date of the ceremony to tomorrow.”

  She made a tiny, strangled noise.

  “In fact, he was so pleased, his wife, Empress Zsh’eungee has offered to see to all the arrangements. We’ve to meet her now in the Royal apartments.”

  Director Zsoyshuu beamed happily at them. “Go, go. You’ve a lot to do before tomorrow! Don’t let me detain you. It isn’t every day one of my staff marries into the Royal House. I hope your duties training our young Warriors won’t prevent you having the customary nuptial holiday, General?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.” He smiled broadly.

  She managed to speak then. “My work…I can’t leave it now!”

  “Nonsense! It will only be a week. I can see to it myself,” Zsoyshuu said, coming out from behind his desk to usher them out. “By the time you’ll need leave, Zayshul, you’ll be ready for reassignment anyway. I’ll see you both tomorrow at the temple.”

  She found herself standing in the corridor with a grim-faced Kezule and two Royal guards.

  “What the hell do you think…” she began in a low voice.

  “Come along, Zayshul,” he interrupted. “We can’t keep the Empress waiting, can we?”

  As they headed toward the Inner Court, flanked by their escort, she tried to gather her wits.

  “What do you think you’re doing? This joke has gone far enough,” she hissed.

  “Oh, it’s no joke,” he said grimly. “We are getting married tomorrow. You owe it to me.”

  “I owe it to you? For what?”

  “For what I saw in your lab. I told you I’d breed with you, and I will.”

  “I refuse!”

  “Then regretfully, I shall have to inform the Medical Director you showed me the growth tanks.”

  “You shell-breaking son of a burrower!” she swore, trying to pull away, making the guard in front turn to look at her.

  “I wouldn’t,” Kezule warned, dragging her inexorably onward. “The guards are all implants, they recognize me as being of royal blood. Until you’re my wife, they’ll see you as a threat to me, and you know better than I how unstable they are.”

  “You’re despicable! You’re using them to make me go through with this!”

  “Yes,” was all he said.

  Shola, Valsgarth Estate, Zhal-Ghyakulla, 25th day (June)

  The last three days had been intolerable for him. As if his emergence from the villa had been the sign that Vanna and his father had been waiting for, suddenly he found himself at the mercy of various experts.

  His father had brought the top neurosurgeon over from Shanagi to see him, and he’d been compelled to go to the Guild medical center and sit through a day of interminable tests. He hadn’t needed any Talent to know the specialist’s words of encouragement were empty.

  The following day, Vanna’s therapist decided it was time to talk about his experiences on the Prime ship in more than general details, which he’d flatly refused to do. He couldn’t even talk about them to his family, let alone anyone else. When she’d pushed the issue, accusing him of refusing to face his emotions, he’d only just managed to control his temper and walk out.

  T’Chebbi got up from her seat in the small waiting area as he came out. She followed him as he flung the outer door open and leaped down the steps to the dirt roadway outside.

  “Don’t say anything,” he growled, ears rotating sideways and flat, tail lashing from side to side as he waited for her to join him.

  She took him by the arm and pointed down the street to the training center. “We go there,” she said. “Not home. You need to get rid of anger.”

  A moment’s hesitation then he nodded once, his ears righting themselves as he followed her to the low stone building just beyond the end of the village.

  The training center was by far the largest building on the estate. Though the interior was complete, the exterior facing was still being finished. Like all the buildings on the Kaeshala continent, it was built to take advantage of the hot climate. Rectangular in shape, it was surrounded by a colonnaded walkway. Plain open doorways were spaced evenly down each side to let in the cooling breezes from the ocean. Wooden screens and energy fields could be activated to provide protection in inclement weather.

  It was his first visit to the center as the foundation stones had only just been laid when they’d left for Jalna. T’Chebbi led the way up the three steps into the main entrance.

  “Group of the Humans and our people have designed murals,” she said, gesturing to the plain white walls of the small entrance hall. “Athletes. They look good on paper. Plans were sent up to the villa for your approval two weeks ago.” She pointed to the door on her left. “Gym is there. Ahead is bathing and showering area, and to the right is massage room and first aid, and a small mess.”

  “They’ve done a good job,” he said, impressed despite his disgruntled mood.

  “Are classes on now, but is area for workouts,” she said, pushing the door into the gym open before he could stop her.

  To refuse to go in now would draw the kind of attention that he suddenly wanted to avoid. He was left with no option but to follow her.

  With the help of Kaid, Banner, and Jurrel, Garras was drilling a class made up of U’Churians, Humans, and Sholans. A couple of heads turned their way as they entered only to snap back as Garras let forth a string of invectives at them.

  Feeling acutely uncomfortable, he followed T’Chebbi round the edge of the room to a door on the right near the far end.

  This was the workout area. Like the main room, it was naturally lit, the transparent ceiling overhead filtering out the sun’s glare. Beneath his feet, the wooden floor was smooth enough to ensure those with claws would learn to grip with their feet. There the similarity ended. Several different exercise machines were provided as well as upright padded posts and bags suspended from wall brackets. On their left, a single doorway, flanked by lockers, opened out onto the colonnade.

  Only one other person was there, Meral. He was working on a bench press. As they entered, he looked up.

  “Liege! It’s good to see you,” he said, mouth dropping open in a pleased smile.

  “Out, youngling,” T’Chebbi said amiably, jerking her thumb toward the door. “See no one comes in while we’re here.”


  “Was just leaving,” he said, getting up and grabbing his towel.

  As the door closed behind him, T’Chebbi strolled over to the hanging kick bag and grasped hold of it. “You plan to work out in your tunic?” she asked.

  “I’m not in the mood for…” He stopped in mid-sentence, diving hastily to one side as the long bag came scything through the air toward him.

  “What’s mood got to do with it?” she demanded, catching it deftly on its return. “You were mad as hell five minutes ago! Know you can’t lose your temper, but you sure as hell can kick this damned thing!” She sent it swinging toward him again. He stood his ground, sure it would miss him, shocked when it sent him reeling. Snarling, he picked himself up off the floor.

  “Hit it, Kusac. Hit back at what’s hurting you,” she said, her voice low and intense. “Focus that anger.”

  He did.

  *

  When he’d worked himself into exhaustion, she sent him off to the showers and told Meral they were done.

  She surprised him by joining him under the stream of warm water. “Turn around,” she ordered him, taking the soap container from his slack grasp.

  Too tired to object, he did. Vigorously, she rubbed the soap into his pelt, kneading his aching muscles back to an acceptable level of discomfort.

  When she’d done, he returned the favor. As he made to undo her long braid, she stopped him. “No need,” she said. “You were one working out, not me.”

  He began to feel some pleasure as he massaged her, his hands remembering the feel of her body. He needed the familiar around him, Sholan benchmarks to remind him who he was. Though smaller than the average female, she was well proportioned, her muscles firm yet not too large. As he worked his way down her flanks, he could feel her body vibrating as she began to purr. Startled, he stood up only to have her lean her weight against him, reaching her hands up to rest on his shoulders.

  “Been a long time since we spent a night together,” she said, folding her ears back to keep the water out of them. “You know where I am if you feel like coming to me.” She touched him intimately on the neck, then stepped past him out of the shower, leaving him speechless.