There would be much danger attempting a daytime theft of the fragment. Delia walked with Jake out of the house to the stables, where slaves hurriedly saddled their mounts. The two of them said nothing about where they were going. Stomach tied in knots, Delia hoped Servilia didn’t see them leaving.
Pushing their horses into a trot, they swung around one end of the domus and headed for the closed gates. The guards on duty saw them coming and quickly opened the barriers.
A feeling of relief trickled through Delia as she lifted her hand in thanks as they rode out into the street. It was much less busy now, as the February sun neared the horizon. The air was growing chillier as evening approached. Rome took on a pinkish hue, making the white columns of the temples on Aventine Hill above them look almost magical.
As they trotted up the cobblestone street toward them, Delia worried about Kapaneus regaining consciousness. In her gut, she knew the scribe was an alien in disguise. Was he harmless without his headband, or not? How many more of his kind were in Rome? It was impossible for her to be psychically searching for red auras all the time. She would have to rely on her powerful intuition to warn her.
As Delia dug her heels into the flanks of her horse to climb the hill toward the temple, she wondered if Kapaneus might die. Maybe the charge he’d hurled at them had been a lethal one, meant to kill. Jake had said he got a pulse, but who knew?
Torbar groaned loudly as he awoke. He was covered with a wool blanket and lying on a couch—but where? Head aching as if a horse had nailed him with a kick, he slowly sat up.
When he raised his hands to touch his head, his grogginess turned to alarm. Where was his headband? Opening his eyes fully, he quickly searched the area around him. Nothing. Getting up dizzily, he clung to the couch and scanned the dimly lit room. His headband was nowhere in sight!
Panic ate at him. Without his headband, he was literally marooned in this time and place. A Navigator could not make time leaps or move from one part of the galaxy to another without it. Pushing himself to begin a search, he stumbled, and would have fallen except for his grip on the couch. Mind churning with questions, Torbar anxiously combed the apartment, but couldn’t find the missing headband.
Sitting back down, he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands. He could hear voices outside the door. It was almost dark in the room except for two braziers in the corners, which provided feeble light. The smell of burning oil made him wrinkle his nose.
Closing his eyes, Torbar reviewed what had happened. He had sent a mind blast at the Greek mercenaries, whom he suspected were time travelers. And instead of knocking them unconscious, the energy had been deflected back, striking him instead. Raising his head, Torbar stared at the door.
Could primitive humanoids have the strength to repel a Centaurian’s mind blast? No one in the galaxy was immune. In this case, Torbar had wanted to knock the pair out, to steal their armbands….
It hurt to think. But he had to, because his life depended upon it.
Was it possible the woman, who clearly possessed the Navigator gene, had reflected his mind blast back to him? What about the male? Did he have the same genetic trait? Torbar must have received a double blast back upon himself. By Chiron, nothing like that had ever happened to him before.
In class as a young trainee, he recalled, the possibility had been discussed. If two Navigators squared off to fight one another, and sent lethal mind blasts at the exact same moment, they could deflect them. That was theory. Torbar had never sent a mind blast at another Navigator; it was against the law. Centaurians never fought among themselves.
They controlled humanoids with mind blasts when necessary. They could use them to manage an angry crowd, for example, rendering everyone passive in seconds. Humanoids were always helpless to fight off a mind blast from a Navigator; that had been shown time and time again, in all the star systems of the galaxy. It was the greatest skill his species possessed, and a natural defense.
Without his headband, however, Torbar was almost relegated to the level of Earthling. His Navigator skills were harmonized and focused by the crystals in his headband, their potency increased a hundredfold.
Torbar had spent twenty years of his life, from babyhood on, learning to become a Navigator. Rubbing his watering eyes now, because the pain in his head was so great, he wondered how this Greek woman soldier had gotten her training.
Was it possible she was a rogue Navigator? Torbar had heard whispered stories about a few Centaurian women being trained in secret. No one dared talk about this in public, for fear of being branded a traitor and killed outright for spreading such gossip.
If she was such a rogue, then she had escaped the star system and was making her life in a place where she was not likely to be discovered by the Centaurian network, which spanned the galaxy. Torbar knew it was possible that if a Navigator wanted to defect from their home world and responsibilities, it could be done. But he knew of no one who had attempted it. Only whispered tales told by retired Navigators mentioned such a possibility.
Was he up against another Centaurian? A rogue female Navigator, of all things? He must be, for it was inconceivable to Torbar that a mere primitive Earthling could deflect his mind blast. Worse, he had no way to warn Kentar or his star system of this anomaly. Right now, he was marooned on this planet. And if Kentar did not send another Navigator to check up on him when he failed to appear at the appropriate time, Torbar was destined to live and die in the body of this scribe.
Groaning, he cursed, “By Chiron, this cannot be happening!” Fortunately, because he was Centaurian, he had a magnificent aura and powerful energy. And even though the scribe’s body had been battered, Torbar could feel his strength returning. If he had to remain captive within Kapaneus’s possessed form, at least he could dispense with the spirit of the man.
As a Navigator, he’d been taught how to temporarily inhabit and share another’s body. But if a Navigator, for whatever reason, had to live out his life in a foreign humanoid body, he knew how to cut the cord and release the original owner’s spirit. That way, he had full ownership of the physical form. Right now, Torbar did not want to do that. He needed the scribe’s memories and knowledge to live undercover here in Rome.
Where were the two Greeks? The time travelers? Torbar was sure they had used the armbands they wore to get to this age and place. But why? Rubbing his head, he was glad to find the pain was beginning to recede. Standing again, he felt solid and grounded, no longer dizzy or weak. The mind blast was finally wearing off.
Getting up, he jerked the door open. Finding a slave, he asked her where the Greeks had gone.
“Master, they left on their horses.”
“Where to?” he demanded.
The young slave blushed and said, “I do not know.”
“Who would know?”
“The stable manager.”
Hurrying out the back door of the house to the stable area, Torbar found a Nubian man in his early thirties. “You there,” he snapped, “where did the Greeks go?”
The slave bowed deeply. “Master, they did not say.”
“What direction did they go when they left?” he growled impatiently.
“Toward Aventine Hill and the temple of Diana. The guards at the gate saw them taking that route.”
Frowning, Torbar turned and walked quickly back into the house. What was at the temple of Diana? Why would they go there? He relentlessly reviewed a list of people who might have the answer. Torbar decided that Servilia would know. Rubbing his brow again, he found the ache had disappeared. How good was his mind reading without his precious headband to amplify his natural psychic abilities? Torbar wasn’t sure. He needed to prowl into the Roman woman’s mind to find out.
Servilia was in a large, open room reading a parchment lying on a lavishly carved wooden table. Not wanting to let her know he was there, Torbar pressed himself to the outer wall. Luckily, there was only one way in and out of the room, through a narrow, dimly lit hall. He could see who
was coming, and leave before the mistress of the house detected him.
Closing his eyes, he marshaled all his energy and focused on Servilia. Picturing her face, he sent out a subtle energy that would not be detected by her. To his surprise and pleasure, he was easily able to access her mind. She would never know he was there. His energies were diminished but not gone. Good!
His head began to ache again. The ability to mind read hinged on a laserlike focus. To sift through all the ideas in her mind in hopes of stumbling upon what he was searching for took time. He hated the process. Humanoids had such an avalanche of thoughts it hurt his head to plow through it all.
Suddenly, Torbar froze. A tidbit. A tease. He heard “magical” and “Temple of Diana,” and stopped to investigate in that area of her mind. Squeezing his eyes shut, he concentrated harder. He had to get a visual of what she was thinking about. Automatically, his fingers curved into fists at his sides. Without the headband, this was hard work!
A picture slowly congealed and Torbar finally saw an object Servilia called an “arrowhead.” Only it wasn’t. His heart pounded hard as he realized what he was looking at. It was part of the stamp that the council had been allowed to plant on Earth!
Breathing shallowly, Torbar clung excitedly to the picture. What was of most interest to him was the circle of seven stars, like a crown. That was the Pleiades constellation. Relaxing his fists, he felt a flush of excitement suffuse him. For over four thousand years, Centaurians had tried to find out where these twelve pieces of the stamp had been hidden on Earth. They’d had no leads. No matter what they did, the information had escaped them. Until now…
Torbar saw the high priestess at the temple of Diana. He saw where the fragment was hidden. And he saw how it worked. He even recognized Delia of Delos holding it. Snapping his eyes open, he felt panic. If only he had his headband! He could contact Kentar immediately and let him know what he’d discovered.
Shame flowed through Torbar as he stood there thinking of what to do next. He heard Servilia moving around, and quickly exited the passageway. Once outside, Torbar glanced toward the stables. He’d arrived on foot, but was going to ride out of here. Waving at the Nubian, he quickly ordered the man to saddle a gelding for him. The slave started to ask if Torbar had permission from his mistress, but then decided not to. Instead, he barked orders to a young boy in the barn to find the scribe a suitable mount.
Standing on one foot and then the other, Torbar glared alternately at the manager and then at the path leading around the beautiful home. He knew the Greeks were on their way to the temple and why. They were going to steal the fragment. He would bet his life on it. Opening and closing his fists, Torbar was ready to scream at the scurrying lad, who was leading a gray, rangy-looking gelding out of the barn for him.
In swift strides, Torbar stepped forward and ripped the reins from the boy’s hand, then leaped into the saddle. As a Centaurian, he was a natural rider. Over millennia, his ancestors had evolved from having the body of a horse to being half horse and half man. One of the most famous centaurs had come here, to Earth. Chiron was still worshipped as a god, back in Torbar’s home world. Chiron had been a great healer before leaving in search of other humanoids across the galaxy. And where he found such groups, he imparted knowledge of healing to them. He had been one of the few Navigators ever given permission to promote humanitarian development among primitive worlds.
Gripping the gelding with his thighs, Torbar leaned forward and spoke in a growl to the animal, whose ears flicked nervously back and forth. Then, with a lunge, the horse broke into a fast trot and rounded the corner of the house, tail held high like a flag.
Torbar waved perfunctorily to the two Roman guards at the gate. They recognized him, saluted him and stood aside as he trotted out into the stream of traffic. The few people on the avenue this time of day leaped aside as Torbar pushed the gray into a gallop down the cobblestone street. Some cursed him. Others shook their fist as they scattered like a flock of chickens.
Not caring about the primitive humanoids, Torbar set his sights on the gleaming temple that stood atop Aventine Hill. In the last rays of the setting sun, the structure turned golden. Even Torbar had to admit that Earthlings had superior architectural skill. His cloak flapping like wings around him, he pushed his horse relentlessly up the steep street. Vendors dived out of the way and so did the customers they served.
Gritting his teeth, Torbar wished for the hundredth time that he had his headband. He could forge a link with the Greeks and know exactly where they were located. Now, he didn’t know. And the temple on top of the hill was huge.
Searching frantically among the patrons of Diana, Torbar did not see the Greeks. There might be much less foot traffic at this time of day, but there was a fair amount of vehicular traffic to avoid. Torbar couldn’t just gallop madly into the crowds at the base of the steps of the temple.
Which way did the Greeks go?
He had to stop panicking. He had to think!
Torbar pulled his horse to a stop at the bottom of the wide steps. There were at least twenty people currently mounting the stairs to the main part of the temple.
Breathing hard, Torbar sat on his mount, glaring around at the populace, who took little notice of him. Where could the Greeks be? Closing his eyes, he tried to scan. In doing so, he could usually picture a person’s face and feel where he or she was located.
There was no response. Opening his eyes, Torbar cursed softly. This particular skill didn’t work at all without his headband in place.
And to try to read twenty humanoid minds was impossible. If he couldn’t even send out a scanning beam to search for the Greeks, then Torbar had no idea where they might be in the huge temple complex. He’d seen only one portion of it in Servilia’s mind and that section was not visible to him. Even his intuition seemed faulty right now, and he blamed it on the mind blast, which had brutally shaken him up. He hated feeling helpless. Navigators were powerful, indispensable, and they ruled the galaxy. As Torbar sat there on his horse, he realized he was no better than the primitive humanoids who surrounded him right now. That made him bitter and angry. To be marooned here, of all places, among these pitiful humanoids made his stomach roll.
It was the fault of the Greeks, he decided. They had caught on to who he was before he’d realized they were time travelers. Torbar knew that when Kentar found out about his failings, he would be permanently demoted and his Navigator status stripped from him. That is, if he was able survive this mission. Glaring around at the scene before him, Torbar felt rage funnel through him.
No! He would not allow these two Greeks, or whoever they really were, to win! His family went back four hundred generations. Torbar could not allow himself to dishonor their illustrious name.
One way or another, he would find the Greeks and stop them.
Chapter 19
T he braziers were lit and light flickered off the temple columns as Delia quickly walked behind Jake. Dusk was deepening, and soon it would be dark. That suited her just fine.
Jake led her into a room at the rear of the temple where the high priestess kept the sacred objects. Heart bounding in her chest, she felt him grip her hand and give it a squeeze. Surprised, she saw him look down at her, his eyes narrowed, before he released her hand.
She grinned. “Feeling frisky?”
“Yeah, it’s the danger,” Jake teased back. “Like an orgasm.”
“Hmm, that sounds good to me.”
“What? The orgasm or the danger?”
“I’ll plead the Fifth on that one, Tyler.” Delia heard him chuckle as they opened a door and went inside. Standing side by side for a moment, they allowed their eyes to adjust to the gloom.
Jake pulled out a small flashlight and flipped it on. “Don’t you love modern technology?” he drawled, as they walked toward another door.
“Makes you really appreciate it at times like this,” Delia agreed. She opened the second door, which was heavy and creaked in protest. The oily
smell of the braziers made her wrinkle her nose. “You stay here, on guard,” she told Jake. “I’ll get the piece.”
He handed her the flashlight, since the inner room was totally dark. “Go for it.”
Hurrying inside the tiny, airless room, she saw a wooden table with a beautiful white linen cloth across it. In the center was the box that contained the fragment. Hands shaking, she quickly opened it and dug out the relic. At once, her fingers started tingling.
Delia held her breath. She opened a small pouch she had inside the larger one at her waist, where she’d tucked Kapaneus’s headband. Delia placed the precious relic into the smaller pouch, then hung it around her neck on its thick leather thong, pushing the pouch beneath her tunic, where it couldn’t be seen. Relief rushed through her. It seemed the relic was not going to whisk her out of her body, to travel the galaxy again. Good!
As she closed the box and smoothed the linen back into place, she wondered why the high priestess did not guard this relic. But then, Delia thought as she turned to leave, Romans would never think of coming in to steal such a sacred object, for fear of reprisal from the god or goddess involved. She opened the door and stepped out. Jake was standing where she’d left him, his brows drawn and his eyes alert.
He held up his hand and pointed toward the door.
Delia scowled and tiptoed across the stone floor to where he stood, noting tension in his shadowed face.
“I’m picking up a lot of sudden mind activity here in the temple,” he warned her in a whisper. “Let’s press our armband crystals and get out of here right now.”
Delia nodded. They could time-jump from anywhere. She didn’t want to risk being found out. “I’ve got the relic on me,” she whispered back, patting the area between her breasts.
“That’s all we need….”
Delia stood next to him. Both of them lifted their sleeves, reaching for their armbands.
Time Raiders: The Seeker Page 19