When they emerged onto the main level, she was surprised at the number of warriors crowding the space. Everyone appeared to be busy about some task and the air hummed with suppressed tension and excitement. Over near the wall, a number of Lycaneans were grouped around a warrior she recognised as Junta, whose face looked set in stone. He raised his fist high in the air and gestured.
Maaka said, ‘Take a moment to rest.’
His gaze was fixed on the group of soldiers. He left her, the crowd parting before him.
Sherise looked around and found Kondo crouched beside some containers. ‘Kondo,’ she called out.
Her bodyguard glanced up from inspecting a metal box she suspected contained some form of weaponry and straightened. He muttered something to one of his men and crossed the room.
‘Lady,’ he said and inclined his head.
She indicated the various boxes and containers strewn on the floor. The insignia of the royal Darkon house was bold in black lettering on the sides. ‘I gave no order for our weapons to be distributed to the Lycaneans. What are they doing here?’
‘I’ve given my vow to assist Maaka.’
‘So you have stolen them. And what of the two shuttles I saw outside?’
‘My men used them to transport down from the Quinnie. Do not be concerned I have left your people without any means to defend themselves. We have only taken what we need.’
‘By all that is holy! Another fool whose only desire is to spill blood upon the ground. Can you not see violence is not the answer?’ She glared at his hard face. ‘Have your long cycles warring against us taught you nothing?’
‘I have learnt to choose my battles.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘This has not been an easy decision and I have given the matter great deliberation. The Lycaneans’ war is worthy of my life and that of my men.’
‘What of your decision to put war behind you? After handing over the leadership of your people to your younger brother, I believed you to be tired of such a life.’
His gaze shifted, looked beyond her into the distance. For a brief moment she glimpsed deep yearning in his eyes.
His voice cold, he said, ‘I believe the Lycaneans have justice on their side. There is something about that city I cannot shake from my mind. It causes me deep unease.’
How to answer that, when she felt the same shiver?
Kondo looked over at where Maaka was conversing with his second-in-command. ‘I have not digressed from my vow to protect you because I am still by your side.’
‘I am not staying here.’
He snorted.
‘Then I cannot persuade you otherwise.’ Sherise said in a flat voice, suddenly exhausted. Now that the Lycaneans had access to the Darkon technology, war would be inevitable. So many would perish and, once again, the land would be awash in a sea of broken bodies.
Noise like the rush of water filled her head, then faded to a hushed silence and she no longer stood within brick-walls. Open grassland surrounded her. In the sky to the east, heavy green-grey clouds bubbled and churned. She gazed over the plains where a dark heaving mass moved towards her at speed. Faint, at first, then louder and louder, the drumming of many footsteps upon the hard-baked earth vibrated like the beating of war drums. She heard the clash of metal and the shrieking of the Half-dead as they raced within striking range. Behind her came the answering roars of the Lycaneans. She whirled round. Maaka led the charge. He swept past her, the unholy light of battle blazing from his eyes, his mouth stretched into a snarl. The line of men met the oncoming black tide with a smash of weapons and bones.
The smell of fresh blood tainted the hot, still air.
Her vision blurred and she returned to the present. What by Cercis’s cloak had just happened? She’d never experienced a vision before. Had it materialised out of her own fears or was it a vision of a time to come? Her stomach churned, her heartbeat raced and, swallowing, she willed the nausea to abate. When she met Kondo’s gaze there was concern in his face, but she turned away.
Maaka strode to her side.
‘What is amiss?’ His hand slid over her hair, his fingers gently soothing down her braid. But his voice was cool.
There was an expression on his face she could not interpret. Rage? Barely contained. But why? She could feel it pulsing from his body and made a tentative attempt to reach his mind, only to find he’d blocked her.
She went to brush past but he stayed her with his hand on her shoulder.
‘Wait,’ he said.
There it was again. She heard it in his voice. Something dark and dangerous, a note she had never heard him use before. A warning prickled her skin.
‘Who gave your alien weapons to the Half-dead?’ The words sounded as if dredged up from the deepest pits of his soul and petrified her bones to stone.
Her mouth sagged open.
Silence fell over the watching soldiers as they waited for a response.
She stared first at Maaka, whose skin was stretched tautly over the bones of his face. Red flames flickered within the purple depths of his eyes. Then she stared at Kondo, who looked as blank as she felt. Her gaze switched back to Maaka, hoping his crusading expression of retribution had vanished.
If anything it had hardened.
‘Why would we do such a thing?’
‘If I knew, I would not ask you.’
‘Our policy is not to become involved in planetary disputes.’
‘Then explain this.’ Maaka grabbed a weapon off Junta, who’d followed him, and showed it to her.
‘A furlon blaster! What has happened?’ She stared into Maaka’s blazing eyes. Suddenly he lifted the blocks from his mind and she read the fury and grief roiling inside him.
Realisation hit hard. ‘It’s the Freebers, isn’t it?’ she whispered. ‘They’ve been attacked.’
***
The attack on the Freebers’ cave settlement had been deadly.
The level of destruction and number of dead more than she could count, Sherise moved amongst the wounded giving aid where possible. She wanted to scream, shout, plead with the goddess for mercy, but she knew it was too late for her prayers to be answered. Instead, she buried her emotions and embraced her persona of healer. She could have used Bree’s help but her friend was far from here.
Sherise interpreted the data from the shayote she had waved over the injured farmer huddled into a ball on the fresh straw.
It seemed like aons ago since Maaka had delivered his broadside; so much had happened. He had swung away from both Sherise and Kondo as if the sight of them caused him physical pain and issued a flurry of orders. Sherise had been loaded onto a shuttle crammed full of weapons and soldiers and the flyer had taken off, engines screaming in defiance as it was pushed to its limit.
No sooner had they landed, than they flowed out of the shuttle like a river bent on destroying all that lay before it. But the Half-dead had fled the scene. The next five hours were a blur in her mind, as she and the other medics had worked on the worst injured first, then tended to the children and women before moving onto the men.
Maaka appeared to be everywhere. Each time she had looked around, he had been carrying the dead, moving obstacles and belongings smeared with blood, laying fresh straw in a clean-smelling cave to be used to house the wounded. The last time she had seen him he had been covered in grit and dust and was hauling huge boulders in his arms. He had been busy digging at the face of the collapsed caves.
She shuddered. People could still be trapped; either under mounds of rubble and rock or in confined dark holes, buried alive behind a wall of stone.
Everyone had worked hard through the night and now dawn had come and gone. Sherise rummaged in her satchel and applied a salve of herbs over a cut which sliced the farmer from his belly across his ribs, upwards towards his throat. This one had been lucky, as the cut was not deep and had failed to slice through any organs, but he would carry the scar for the remainder of his days.
A small
price to pay for one’s life. She gave a brief prayer of thanks to Cercis and moved onto the next.
Maaka strode through the entrance, calling her name, a tiny bundle covered in grey dust and a filthy blanket in his arms. She grabbed her satchel and hurried to his side.
He laid his burden down with infinite care and stepped back a pace.
Sherise lifted an edge of the blanket and eased it away from the small figure to reveal a child, possibly of two or three cycles. The little girl was unconscious. Apart from the blood oozing from a wound on her head and mingling with her dusty mop of brown curls, there was no other sign of injury. The twin crescents of feathery lashes were dark on her white face and her small rosebud-shaped lips tightened before relaxing. This tiny child was in pain and Sherise suspected internal injuries. Could her organs be damaged?
She glanced up at Maaka towering over her. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, his mouth a long thin line. He sensed her gaze and turned to her. The fire in his essence appeared banked, dammed by the wall of grief she saw glistening like dark pools in his eyes.
‘Can you help her?’
‘I will do everything I can. By Cercis’s cloak, this one will not perish,’ Sherise said, her voice cracking.
A flash of understanding warmed his eyes and Maaka nodded.
‘Bring me fresh water and tell Kondo to ready a medie tube. I do not care who occupies it, get them out.’
He grunted in acquiescence and strode off to do her bidding.
Three hours later the little girl opened her eyes and smiled. Sherise lifted her out of the medie tube into the waiting arms of a Freeber woman who carried her carefully away. Sherise sighed and kneaded the muscles in her lower back.
‘Well?’ asked Maaka. He had been leaning against the wall near the hatchway for some time, waiting for the prognosis.
‘She will heal.’
He hissed out a breath through his clenched teeth and straightened. ‘Now, we will talk.’ He stalked over, grabbed her hand and led her from the shuttle.
Outside, he allowed her to slip from his grasp and she walked through the cavern and out onto the plateau beyond. A breeze sighed a sad song around the hilltop, as if mourning the passing of so many lives. Leaves rustled in the stand of trees below.
Sherise stopped near the edge so she could look out over the plains that stretched to the horizon. The sun had passed its midpoint in the sky and Sherise could feel the burn of its rays on her face.
Maaka caught her arm and spun her round to face him.
She wrenched out of his grasp and stood staring at him. They were within arms’ reach of each other and yet she felt an entire galaxy lay between them.
‘Tell me what you know about these weapons.’ Maaka looked down the length of his noble nose at her, nostrils flared, his head flung back.
‘You cannot think I would allow the distribution of our weapons to your enemies? To anyone! When I have told you over and over, we will not be drawn into this planet’s politics.’
‘’Tis clear your status is high amongst your people. You talk of ‘allowing’, as if you alone hold the power to decide such matters. Do you still attempt to blur my mind with your evasions?’
‘Can’t you read my mind?’
‘I can sense your emotions but can only communicate telepathically when you are not too far away from me. Well?’ He spoke impatiently.
What could it matter now? She said in a dull tone, ‘My brother holds the seat of power in the Darkos system. Now that the war is at an end, our people are once more the Guardians of the Seven Galaxies.’
‘And your status?’
‘Lady, but in truth it means little. The Quinnie is in the command of Dyrke, who must adhere to the advice of Lord Barid, who represents our ruling council. We remain bound to our laws and the terms of our mission.’ She did not mention that only when the direst of circumstances threatened the Quinnie, did her word override the Commander’s—like when she had given the order to jettison the starboard compartment bay. She wiped her sweaty palms down her tunic.
Maaka swung around and took several long strides before turning back to face her. Distrust bounced off him so intense she felt the shock waves like a round-house punch to the stomach.
Was it deliberate? Did he seek to distance himself from her both physically and emotionally? Well, she for one wanted no connection with him if he could believe she was capable of such subterfuge. Let him stand there. Even better, she would leave him; alone.
The bones along Sherise’s spine stiffened until they felt like a barrier of blast-proof metal rods. She stalked back to the cavern.
‘Wait,’ he said.
She continued her march for a few paces then whirled to face him; whatever he intended to say had better include an apology. His footsteps made a soft padding noise as he strode across the sand-covered rock.
Maaka halted and folded his arms. ‘This discussion is not over.’
‘Interrogation would be the better word.’ She flicked her braid over her shoulder, while her heart clenched with wary hope.
‘Can you not see what has occurred here? These people are not fighters. Never before did the Half-dead attack this settlement. Their preferred method of attack is to wage war on open fields, or ambush small, unprotected groups. Nay, someone has helped them,’ growled Maaka. His teeth flashed white, a stark contrast to the darkness boiling within him.
A tic pulsed in the base of his corded throat and drew her eyes. She licked her lips and wrenched her gaze aside to pretend she found the view fascinating. She bit out, ‘It was not the Darkons.’
Maaka’s hands glided over her shoulders and curled around her neck. He cupped her chin, pressed his thumbs into her cheeks and forced her to meet his icy stare. She flinched as his words hurtled at her like boiling roid stones. ‘How can you be so certain? Your Commander, you say, does not answer to you. The Relic switches allegiance far too quickly for trust. I have shown you the evidence.’
‘It was not us.’
‘Then who?’ he ground out.
‘How many did you find? Can you bring them to me?’
‘No need. I have them here,’ said Kondo.
Startled, Sherise turned around to find the Relic warlord carrying a furlon blaster and two plitza guns. He held them out and Sherise took the blaster from him and tilted it toward the light from the burning torch.
‘I have examined them, Sherise. They are Darkon and Elite designs.’ Kondo turned to Maaka. ‘My men and I have found evidence of uron charges and plitza gun shells. The damage to the roof of the cavern has been caused by an explosive of some kind. I cannot tell you any more except that the Freebers were lucky the Half-dead are not accurate shots and have no training with these weapons.’
‘I believe you are correct, Kondo. But …’ She squinted at the markings running along the underside of the blaster, ‘… this one appears to be an earlier model than those we have on the Quinnie.’
Her grip tightened and she raised her head to stare at the two men. ‘I was right in my suspicions. Someone else from our world also landed on this planet. I must contact Commander Dyrke immediately.’
Maaka narrowed his eyes. ‘You said your people will not aid in another planet’s war.’
‘Yes.’ Sherise dragged in a sharp breath. ‘There can be only one possible explanation. Whoever is aiding your enemy is not a Darkon.’
Chapter 22
‘No!’ Sherise flung the fur from her body, staggered a few paces and retched onto the rock floor. She forced the memory from her mind. A chill that had nought to do with her surrounds stiffened her joints and made her feel as heavy as an asteroid. Torchlight wavered, making shadows play like the ghosts of small children over the cave walls as Maaka crossed to her side.
Warm hands lifted her hair away from her face, bunched it into a tail, rubbed the back of her neck until she finished. He scooped her into his arms and carried her back to their bed. He wrapped a soft pelt over her shaking body then left her al
one for a few minutes. She gripped the fur and hugged it close, terrified to shut her eyes and relive her nightmares.
Maaka returned to her side with a damp cloth. As if he tendered a wounded child, he murmured soothing noises and wiped the sweat and tears from her face.
‘Drink this, it will relieve your throat.’ He proffered a wooden bowl. ‘I have added honey and peppermint to the tea.’
Her teeth clattered against the bowl as she sipped the concoction. Gradually, the furious pounding of her heart steadied and the trembling assailing her limbs eased. She handed the empty vessel to Maaka who tossed it aside. It landed with a muffled crackle of straw.
‘You cried out in your sleep,’ he said slowly, as if he picked his words with care. He brushed a tendril of hair from her eyes and ran his fingers down the side of her face.
‘A bad dream,’ she mumbled and averted her head. She wished he would stop being so attentive to her needs. It made her think he cared for her when all she could hear was the cold contempt in his voice when he’d believed she had aided his enemy.
‘Or a memory?’
When she looked at him, he raised his shoulders in a small shrug.
‘I recognise the symptoms.’
His words caused a warmth to bloom over her cool body. So she was not alone with her nightmares, but would he turn from her in disgust if she confessed to the part she had played in the other prisoners’ executions? He had already shown how quick he was to judge where she was concerned. And he had yet to apologise. Not that I have decided whether I should forgive him.
‘Why don’t you lie down, hmmm?’ He rubbed her arms. ‘You are cold and I long to have you beside me. I do not like this distance that lies between us.’
‘How could I allow you to touch me when you accuse me of being involved in this disaster?’
‘I was angry. And grief for the Freebers’ suffering clouded my logic,’ Maaka admitted. He tugged her down onto the furs and pulled her close, locking her in place with an arm around her waist and sliding one leg over hers.
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