No Turning Back

by Sharon T. Rose

  Chapter 10

  As Alleathon passed through the elaborate doors, someone called out, "The Descendants of the Ancients!" The small crowd gathered inside, however, hardly needed the formality. They had turned toward the doors, possibly before they had even opened, and stared eagerly at the new arrivals. Fulenthen forced her hands to remain uncurled at her sides.

  "Alleathon Naichen; good to see you again, sir!" a man said, walking forward out of the crowd. He wore a simple yet fashionable suit and had his greying hair and beard neatly trimmed and combed. This had to be Michale Beythan, the president of Ivrithan.

  "President Beythan, a pleasure to meet you again, as well," Alleathon greeted him warmly, his large hand dwarfing the president's normal-sized hand. "If I may circumvent ceremony, my lord president, allow me to introduce our new sister, Fulenthen Sonelion." He turned to gesture to her.

  Stepping forward deliberately, Fulenthen nodded the way she'd seen the others do and reached her hand out. She wasn't sure if she should hold it to be kissed, as was Ivrithan custom, or shake it as a man would. Beythan answered the question by taking her hand in a firm shake.

  "Delighted to meet you, Fulenthen Sonelion," he said firmly, looking up to her eyes. "May I say that I personally appreciate all that you and the rest of the Descendants do to protect this country and her allies." A few of the bystanders shifted at that; Fulenthen suddenly recalled that Ivrithan officially maintained a neutral opinion of the Descendants.

  "I know you must be nervous and ready to get all this ceremony over with," Beythan continued, neatly avoiding the more obvious sources of unease, "and we won't keep you in suspense. Now that you're here, we're just waiting for the program master to tell us that everything is ready, and we'll be done with this." He beamed up at her.

  Fulenthen managed a small smile, but she was distracted. Even her nervousness had melted away. There was something ... she couldn't quite name the feeling, but something in this room bothered her. No. Something bothered the beast, though It remained curled and hidden. The creature smelled something that It didn't like ... Fulenthen pretended to pay attention as Laillmen stepped forward to greet the president, allowing her to step back into the group. Trying not to be obvious, Fulenthen scanned the room.

  All the gathered dignitaries seemed normal humans. Men in suits smoked fine cigars, two women in afternoon gowns and hats sipped daintily on chilled drinks, servants and guards scattered through the subtle clumps of status. A massive desk squatted against the far wall under the windows, ignoring the pair of settees holding court on the other side of the spacious room with armchairs flanking them protectively. Artwork lent aesthetics and dignity to the richly paneled walls, which boasted only electrical lamps now dark in the presence of day ... what was It sensing?

  Fulenthen closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the light sweat of well-washed bodies, soaps and perfumes atop that, the tang of herbal smoke and bite of strong liquor, old dust hiding in corners and upholstery, cloth and thread and metal buttons ...

  Her black eyes snapped open, but she did not look at anything in the room. She did not see the concerned gazes of her erstwhile Siblings, though she heard the rustle of their bare feet on the thick carpet. She did not see the sunlight pouring through the windows, though the warmth bathed her hard skin. She did not see the servant passing less than a yard from her, though she could smell the wine he carried and heard the glasses clink.

  She saw only the abyss within her, where the Hunter dwelled, where It hid from her. She reached for It, yanking It forward into her mind. If there were sound inside of her, the Hunter might have yelped in surprise; she could certainly feel Its shock. She was shocked at herself for deliberately calling It forth, but It had senses she did not. Silently, she commanded It.

  Find it. Don't do anything, but find it! She had the sensation that It was startled, but It swiftly complied. In seconds, It zeroed in on one of the women, who stood the farthest from the Descendants and looked at them with skillfully veiled disdain. She chatted with two men who also shot careful glances at the giants in their midst, unaware that they had the full attention of one. The smell wasn't the woman, actually, but it was on her--

  "My lord president," a strong voice cut through the chatter (and concentration), "lord and lady Descendants, honored guests; we are ready to begin the presentation." The uniformed man standing in the doorway bowed deeply toward the president.

  "Excellent!" Beythan clasped his hands in a business-like fashion, the opened them invitingly to the group. "Shall we, then?"

  They trooped back down the corridors, crossed the mezzanine to the facing hall-way, and walked down its length. Another staircase (down this time), more halls, and Fulenthen could hear the distant roar of massed voices. Her hands clenched.

  "It's alright," Kiemelen whispered from behind her.

  "You're doing fine," Vyenthon added quietly. "We're here."

  Fulenthen nodded minutely and kept walking. They approached a wall of windows overlooking the city; as they drew closer, she could see a set of tall glass doors leading out to a wide balcony. The doors were thrown open, allowing the noise of a large crowd to pour through. A breeze drifted in with the clamor, bringing Fulenthen to an abrupt halt.

  "What's the matter?" Vyenthon came to her side in an instant, his unbound green hair swaying from his rush.

  Fulenthen said nothing as her body shook slightly, fists slowly uncurling into claws. Her wide nostrils flared as she struggled to breathe normally. Her black eyes took on a new glint as her lips slowly curled back.

  "The Hunter?" Alleathon asked sotto voce, casually turning back to her. Dimly, Fulenthen was aware that the normal humans had also stopped and looked at them with confusion. She nodded jerkily and took a slow breath.

  "Out there," she whispered through clenched teeth. "There are ... so many of them ... out there. I'm working to hold It back ... but I don't know ..."

  "Take ease," Alleathon immediately replied. "We will take them, and the Hunter will have them. In due time and if It cooperates with us."

  Fulenthen flashed a shocked look at him. Alleathon bared his teeth. "Yes, I am serious. Our duty is to protect Alluvia and destroy the Sukkers. Public appearances notwithstanding, we do our duty. We would like to avoid causing a panic, so the Hunter must work with us and await our commands. Will It do so?"

  Fulenthen clenched her jaw, bright eyes gazing inward. After a few moments, she nodded. "I've got It under control. For now. But don't wait too long."

  Senses heightened with the Hunter's hunger, Fulenthen dimly heard a high-pitched voice whisper. "Goodness; seems that she's had a bout of nerves. I do wonder if the poor thing is sturdy enough for this."

  Alleathon gave Fulenthen his own nod and turned back toward the humans. As he made some cheerful excuse, Sonelion slid up beside Fulenthen.

  "Here," he whispered, slipping a bandoleer around her waist. "The smallest balls give off a color upon impact; you can use them to mark the Drones. Remember what we practiced; your aim will be true as long as you stay calm and focus. Try to tag as many as you can, and we will fetch them for you. Any of them that are close, you can grab. Use the larger balls to drain them; aim for the head. Tell the Hunter to wait, and It will get Its feast in time. The more we can gather, the more It will get. Tell It, Sister; tell It carefully. Demney's a bastard, but I know he's been helping you communicate with It. If It will be patient and wait, It will be rewarded."

  Rigidly, she nodded. fingers straying to the bandoleer. Sonelion continued to whisper instructions as Alleathon motioned to them.

  The group moved toward the open doors now. Fulenthen moved jerkily, fighting for outward calm, to stay in place and not leap into the crowd that unfurled before her eyes as she stepped out onto the marble-paved balcony. Several hundred people gathered in the square in front of the Parliament House; the roar of their conversation crashed over her with near physical force. The smell poured into her lungs, driving the Hunter into a froth. She sternly rebu
ked It, cajoled It (much as that galled her), and ordered It to obey. She had no pockets to hide her hands in, so she hooked her fingers onto the bandoleer, her fingers brushing the round items stored there.

  The beast abruptly stilled, leaving her cold and trying to remember how to breathe. It knew those things. It used her eyes to dart a glance down at them, felt their shape though her fingers. Fulenthen took advantage of Its distraction to focus on what was happening outside her head.

  "--troduce Alleathon Naichen, who will make our newest Descendant known to you," Beythan finished, waving one arm grandly toward the Descendants’' leader. Alleathon stepped up to the podium as a servant in Parliament garb hastily adjusted the metal pole that held one of the new voice amplifiers that had become popular while Sylenn was roaming the streets. Alleathon slowed his approach to give the servant enough time to finished the adjustment and shot him a quick smile. The ... micro-phone now tall enough to reach his face, Alleathon calmly spoke into it.

  "I greet you, people of Ivrithan and of Alluvia. We are met here to make known and welcome the newest Descendant to join in the defense of our world. It is ever our mission to protect our world and overcome those who seek to destroy her people, and we welcome all who stand with us in this effort, no matter who they are or how they assist. The one I introduce to you today joins this cause on its foremost battle lines, placing her life at risk for the sake of yours. Please join me in in welcoming Fulenthen Sonelion."

  She could do this. They had practiced, talked about it, pretended. Even if she hadn't known until an hour ago that today was the day, she knew what she had to do. She stepped forward, ignoring the roar of the crowd. There! And there! There and there and there! Silently, she marked them, suddenly glad that her bizarre eyes gave so little hint of her thoughts, of where she glanced. The beast strained within her but remained still.

  Fulenthen bowed to the crowd from Alleathon's side. A few minutes more, that was all. She needed to answer perhaps a few questions, be polite for just a little bit, and then--

  "Yes, sir," Alleathon broke into her thoughts, pointing at a man in the crowd who wore a small white plaque in his dark hat, declaring him a pressman. "Your name and question?"

  "Walley Bujle, Vanautue Lettere di Giorni. Signorina Fulenthen, which Descendant Awakened you, and can you tell us your first thoughts when you discovered you were a Descendant?"

  Fulenthen unclenched her jaw and stepped sideways to the unfamiliar micro-phone. Mimicking Alleathon as much as possible, she answered the man, who was not contaminated. "Vyenthon Nenkthen. I was surprised." The beast caught the wind again and whimpered in her mind, so she stepped back to control It.

  Bujle frowned, but Alleathon picked another waving hand out of the crowd. Fulenthen didn't bother hearing his name.

  "--told that you were discovered in Casserion; are you from there?"

  "No." Be still! Cooperate with us, and you'll eat yourself sick tonight!

  "How did it happen?"

  "On accident."

  "What's your opinion on the trade war in southern Deliana?"

  "I have none." Oh, be still! Just a little longer! Just a little longer!

  "Are you married?" That brough jeers from the crowd.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Tellers," Alleathon interjected sternly, "but that is an inappropriate question."

  A not-quite whisper sliced through the crowd, straight into her ears. "Well, she's a communicative thing, isn't she?"

  "Jerell, shush!! What is wrong with you? Honestly, you've been so terrible this past month, and this is no time to be snide!" Fulenthen's gaze arrowed in on the man and woman standing near the front of the crowd, just behind the line of guards. They both wore press plaques on their hats, though hers looked oddly out of place on the dainty felt cap. The man's expression twisted slightly as he glanced at the woman. His retort died on his lips when he realized that Fulenthen had pinned him with her gaze.

  Slowly, she lifted her arm and pointed at him. Contaminated. Hunt.

  The beast froze inside her, poised to spring.

  He recovered quickly. "Jerell Graig, Ivrithan Today. Tell me, Fulenthen Sonelion; what is your special power? What fantastic thing can you do that no-one else can?" It was a jeer, a dare. The Sukker didn't realize that she could smell it, that it was not hidden from her eyes. It could pass off its brashness as skepticism, as a refusal to be taken in by these god-like Descendants and their claims of superiority. It was a common attitude.

  Some of the Descendants shifted slightly, both at the man's condescension and with slight unease at his question. They hadn't yet discovered Fulenthen's special ability, though they had tried numerous tests. Her tail did give her better balance, and she was quite agile, but it was hardly enough to call a Power.

  Fulenthen closed her eyes and begged the creature to cooperate. Damn you, beast; cooperate!

  "Would you like to see?" The words slid out of her mouth involuntarily, a hiss amplified by the micro-phone. "Would you all like to see?" The Descendants tensed behind her; It could feel them, and It did not care.

  The crowd roared in approval; the contaminated in the front joining in. The woman frowned prettily, darting glances of confusion and concern at him.

  Fulenthen's hand strayed to the bandoleer again, and the beast stilled once more. Suddenly, warmth blossomed in Fulenthen's chest. After a second, she knew why that was.

  Understanding. The beast understood. It had grasped her intention, the Descendants' intention to help It hunt. Images, hazy and oddly-formed, flashed through her mind, of times long gone when other strange creatures had helped It hunt, and trained It to wait to feed until there were many to feed on.

  Her eyes flicked open, spearing the man. He froze, the grin dying on his lips.

  "You ask what it is I do, Gontozenel?" she asked, her own lips slitting hungrily. He started visibly, taking a step back, bumping into the man behind him.

  "I HUNT."