She turned her head to look at him. “You keep calling him my Sholan, and everyone can smell my scent marker on him, so why shouldn’t I? Your two palace females are no secret, so why shouldn’t I give my supposed lover a token of affection?”
He clamped his hand over her wrist as she reached for more food. “If he wins the bet, you’ll stick to what I told you to tell him, do you understand? If I find out he’s learned the truth from you, you’ll regret it, and so will he.”
“What will you do, Kezule?” she asked, shaking herself free. “You need him, and me, too much!”
“For a start, his chances of taking Shaidan home will diminish rapidly,” he hissed. “You’ll play the part of the dutiful wife or your Sholan may find himself spending longer on this Outpost than either of you can imagine—and you won’t be allowed near him.”
She stared at him, eyes blazing briefly before she forced herself to relax. “You’re preventing me from speaking to him anyway.”
“Just play the part we agreed on, Zayshul. This isn’t about him or the cub, it’s about our people, recreating what was best in our kind before we lost our way and became an evolutionary dead end,” he said tiredly. “When Kusac’s done what I’ve asked, I’ll deprogram Shaidan and they can go home. Meanwhile, I have Giyarishis looking for a way to turn off the scent marker.”
“You swear?” she asked in a low voice.
“I swear.”
Later the same evening
“Teach them Brotherhood skills? Are you out of your mind?” demanded Banner later that evening when they were alone in Kusac’s quarters. “We’ve done enough. He should give us Shaidan and let us go.”
“Kezule has insisted on it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I know there’re some things we can safely teach them.”
“Like what? If we do, we lose our advantage over them,” exclaimed his Second, flinging himself down on the sofa and glowering across at Kusac.
“Survival skills for one. Kezule knows a fair bit since he managed to survive on Shola,” he said dryly. “We’d be teaching little that he can’t teach them himself. And it’s only the best of them we’d be teaching.”
“I suppose so,” Banner said grudgingly. “But how much longer does he intend to hold us here? He has his community and the training program now.”
Kusac examined his claw tips. “He’ll let us leave when we’ve turned the best of them into a team capable of doing covert missions, like landing on Ch’almuth and infiltrating the local population. He wants to take their measure then recruit some of those with the missing genetic makeup of their Worker caste to bring back here.”
“Anything else?” Banner asked sardonically.
“Yes. Tomorrow we start teaching his officers how to train the new children.”
Banner stared at him for almost a full minute before replying. “The longer we stay here, the more of them there are and the fewer our options become. I can’t see that teaching them these skills, helping this nascent colony survive, is in Shola’s best interests,” he said slowly.
“What threat to Shola is Kezule? If he’d wanted to move against us, why stop the attempted assassination and coup? With his one hundred warriors, he could have easily taken control of the Prime world. Instead, he’s out here, in the middle of nowhere, rebuilding his people.”
“They nearly destroyed us in his time, Kusac. They did reduce us to slavery. And here we are, 1500 years later, facing the same threat again. By helping Kezule, who knows what we’re storing up for future generations? There’re three planets of aggressive Valtegans out there!”
“We only face the M’zullians, not the J’kirtikkians or Ch’almuthians,” he countered. “Kezule’s had enough fighting, he wants more out of life now that he’s seen what it can hold.”
“I think it’s you who’s changed,” his Second said quietly, getting to his feet. “You who’s given up fighting. I’ll tell the others, but they won’t like it, and neither do I.”
“Tell them they’ll follow orders, or be put on charges,” he said, avoiding Banner’s gaze. “There’s a brig here, and plenty of manual labour to be done.” He looked up, eyes and voice suddenly cold. “Or they can Challenge me.”
Banner nodded slowly. “Be careful, Kusac, or one day someone will take you up on that.”
After Banner left, he leaned back in the chair, sighing and closing his eyes, hands clenching on the arm rests. He knew he was pushing them too hard, but what option did he have? He needed more time to work on the M’zullians with the subliminals he was using. All he’d managed to achieve was their own probable survival if the worst came to the worst and they rebelled against Kezule. Maybe this hunt planetside tomorrow, followed by their own midwinter gathering, would help release the tension they were all experiencing.
In his pocket, something hard dug into his hip. Easing himself to one side, he reached in to draw it out. It was the gift from the festival—a small statuette of La’shol.
The Hunt, Zhal-Kuushoi 23rd day (December)
Crouched, belly flat to the grass, hands clenched into paws, he lay still, watching the small herd of grazing beasts upwind of him. He could feel their total lack of awareness of his presence as they chewed contentedly on the lush grass at the edge of the river. The sun on his bare back and shoulders was warm, and beneath his feet, the soil felt slightly moist. He breathed deeply, savoring the smells of damp soil and sun-warmed grass a moment longer before beginning to move forward, emitting the three high-pitched yips that were his signal to the others.
He wanted the buck, the leader of the herd—not to kill, but to take back to the Outpost. It was stronger and larger than the other two already in the cages at their base camp, caught by Kezule’s people. He edged forward, pausing every few paces to be sure he’d not been spotted, his sensitive nose separating out the buck’s scent from among the others. As he drew closer still, and the scent filled his nostrils, he felt his heart begin to race and his breathing become rapid and more shallow. Peripheral vision disappeared as he began to enter the hunter/kill trance, all his senses focusing only on his prey. It was good for once to consciously let go of everything, including his telepathic senses, and become only an instinctive hunter.
The rest of his crew were waiting for him to move first, cutting the buck off from the herd before they came in for the kill on their own chosen targets. They had scored more than enough live captures of does over the last two days—all but one achieved cleanly, unlike Kezule’s people, and even then the injury had been slight. For the remainder of today and tomorrow, they hunted for meat.
Closer and closer he inched, stopping once for as long as five minutes when something startled the herd, until he was only twenty feet from them. He waited, muscles bunched until the moment was right and he felt the buck settle down to graze again.
Springing forward, he launched himself into the open grassland, paws barely touching the ground as he closed on his prey. Suddenly, the stag lifted its head, brayed a warning, and sprang for the safety of its herd.
Noise and dust surrounded him, penetrating his trance, telling him something was very wrong. A dark shape loomed toward him, braking too late to avoid crashing into him. The herd was stampeding. Panic and fear filled his mind as they collided, pulling him back to the here and now.
He staggered, time seeming to slow while he tried to pick up his pace again and swerve from side to side to avoid the terrified does. Every sense stretched to the limit, at the back of his mind he sensed the quiet satisfaction of one of his own crew and realized the stampede was no accident—it had been timed to catch him in the open.
Momentarily distracted, he didn’t see the doe hurtling toward him until it was too late. This time the collision sent him stumbling into the path of three more. Their eyes glazed with terror, they were incapable of changing direction.
A blur of black, followed by a deafening roar of anger sent them swerving aside at the last moment. As one, the herd wheeled, following them. Still staggering, Kusac managed to re
gain his stride and match pace with the Sholan now running beside him.
Neither word nor look was exchanged between them, but as one, they continued pursuing the buck, gradually gaining ground until only a few feet separated them. Kusac was tiring, and his shoulder hurt from the blows caused by his collisions with the does. He knew he had to fetch the stag down now or lose him. Shortening his stride, he drove his powerful hind legs back, kicking off from the ground, and leaped. He landed, hands outstretched across the buck’s neck, half on it, half on the ground, his mouth searching for the beast’s throat.
The force of his attack made it stumble sideways, slowing it down until it skidded on the plains grass. His jaws shut on the soft fur, feeling the pulsing veins just beneath the surface. Using it as a guide, he shifted his grip slightly then clamped his jaws closed around its windpipe.
It squealed, raising its head in an effort to dislodge him as it finally slid to a halt and reared up in terror, razor-sharp hooves pawing at his chest. He twisted himself to one side as he was dragged upward, feet scrabbling at the earth for a hold before the stag dropped down again. His claws finally found a purchase in the grass and he flung his weight against it, attempting to overbalance it and force it to the ground.
A hoof struck his already injured shoulder, sending agony pulsing through it, but the beast staggered and fell. Landing on top of it, his whole side numb with pain, there was little he could do save pin it down with his body weight as the snorting beast continued to struggle, attempting to get to its feet again.
Suddenly, the fight left it and it lay there gasping for breath. He collapsed, jaws still clenched tightly round its throat.
“Got it, Kusac,” he heard Banner say.
He’d only enough strength remaining to raise his head and see that Banner had already hobbled the buck’s hind legs and was grabbing the front ones ready to do the same to them. Letting go, he rolled off his catch, groaning as his injured shoulder hit the ground. He sat up, spitting small clumps of fur out of his mouth before carefully flexing his shoulder then checking the buck’s throat.
“Just bruised,” said Banner, leaning over to look as he finished knotting the rope. “You didn’t break its skin. Considering the circumstances, it was a clean capture.” He sat back on his haunches and stared at him. “That was no accident, you know that, don’t you?”
“I know,” he said, carefully probing the swelling on top of his shoulder joint. “I can’t prove it, though. He’ll be full of apologies when he joins us.”
“You’ll have to deal with him soon.”
“I can’t, unless he openly Challenges me, and he’s not ready to do that yet,” Kusac said, satisfied his injury was no more than a grazed bruise.
Banner got up and came over to him, squatting down beside him to check the injury for himself. “We need to get back to the shuttle and treat that or you’ll be too stiff to move by this evening.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, getting onto his feet. “I can hardly feel it.” The initial pain had worn off now to a dull ache that he could ignore.
“Stay here with the buck,” said Banner as he stood up. “The herd is far enough away from us now for me to bring the shuttle here.”
“That’s not necessary,” he began.
Banner reached out to touch his arm. “I’m bringing the shuttle here,” he said firmly then turned and began walking away.
Sighing, Kusac squatted back down beside the captured buck, checking that the ropes binding it weren’t too tight. The terrified beast lay on its side panting, eyes wide and staring, mouth rimmed with froth. Banner was right. He’d have to deal with Dzaou soon.
Dzaou was the first to reach them, full of apologies as Kusac had predicted. He shrugged them and him aside as they stowed the carcasses in the large container at the midsection of the shuttle. The buck, now sedated, they placed in an animal cage before releasing its bonds.
It was nearing dusk by the time they got back to the collection of tents and shuttles that was their camp and handed their live catch over to M’kou.
“I think this puts you in the lead, Captain,” M’kou said, counting the carcasses as they were taken out to the main shuttle for cold storage. “We’ve not had as much success with live captures, I’m afraid.”
“It’s your scent,” Khadui said. “Reptiles are always predators, mammals aren’t.”
“They’re certainly less traumatized by your presence,” agreed M’kou, stepping away from the terrified beast as Khadui and Jayza pushed the cage past him. “There’s food ready for you all in the mess tent, Captain.”
“I’m surprised General Kezule brought the M’zullians,” said Jayza as they lounged round the central campfire later that evening.
“Couldn’t afford to leave them behind. He had them in three groups,” said Banner, leaning forward to flick a burning lump of wood back into the fire with the stick he’d been whittling. “He led one. They were hunting for meat, not live beasts.”
“He needs to keep them Challenged,” said Kusac, sipping the ale they’d been issued as it was their last night. “If they’re learning new skills, they won’t Challenge their officers.”
“I wonder what they’ve done with the ones on Shola,” said Jayza.
Dzaou snorted. “Sent ’em back, if they’ve any sense!”
Khadui sat up suddenly. “I wonder if bringing them was a wise idea,” he said quietly, flicking an ear toward the other side of the fire. “I smell trouble.” As he spoke, voices were suddenly raised, one of them female.
“Where’s the General?” asked Jayza, sitting up and looking round. “I don’t see him.”
“In his tent,” said Kusac, pushing himself up onto his haunches. “Be ready, I think this may turn nasty.” He rested his hand casually on the butt of the stun gun on his belt.
It was Zhalmo, Kezule’s daughter, and a M’zullian. He could smell their scents even through the woodsmoke. There was something different about the M’zullian’s scent, more than just the anger. He glanced around, realizing that the M’zullians were all in one area, near the couple who were still arguing. Civilians nearby were getting to their feet and edging surreptitiously away.
Counting heads, he only found five. That meant nine more to be accounted for. Then he recognized what was different about them.
“Pull back now,” he snapped. Slowly, keeping his body profile low, he moved across the log, eyes scanning the M’zullians the whole time. Seconds later, they’d left the circle of firelight and were hiding in the dark, concealed behind bushes and long grass.
“What’s up?” asked Khadui quietly.
“They’ve been eating raw meat,” said Banner before he could answer.
“Most of those here are civilians,” Kusac said, pulling his side arm out. “With their aggression levels raised, the M’zullians will challenge Kezule now for leadership.”
“So what?” countered Dzaou. “Without him . . .”
“The M’zullians will be in charge and there’ll be carnage. That puts Shaidan at risk,” he snapped. “We need Kezule alive and in command. He’s in his tent with M’kou. That’s where we’re going. Take point, Banner. Move out.”
Raised voices could be plainly heard well before they saw the silhouettes against the walls of the tent. They crept closer until they could see the entrance.
“Find the Sholans! We need them and their skills,” he heard the leader say. It was Chazukk, the main M’zullian troublemaker. “Bring them outside with us. You’ll order your people to surrender to us, General, or we’ll start killing them.”
Arms bound behind them, Kezule and M’kou were dragged outside in Chazukk’s wake.
They followed, keeping to the dense shadows of the tents as Kezule and M’kou were taken to the central campfire.
“Where are the Sholans?” Chazukk was demanding of one of the male civilians.
“I don’t know. They were here until a few minutes ago.” The male pointed across to the wooden log on which Kusac had been
sitting.
There was the sound of a blow. “Where did they go?”
The answer was slow in coming. “I didn’t see them leave.”
He watched as Chazukk, using only one hand, lifted the male bodily into the air by the neck. He’d seen this before and knew what was coming. Now was not the time to be hiding behind mental shields—he needed all his senses working unhindered if they were to survive. Reaching mentally for his torc, he turned off the mechanism and let down his barriers, wincing as the full strength of the M’zullians’ hatred and anger hit him.
Banner glanced briefly at him, reassuring himself that his leader was handling the situation. Satisfied, he looked away.
“Then you’re of no use to me,” said Chazukk, tightening his claws round his victim’s neck. A strangled shrieking split the air as blood sprayed out from the punctured throat, then silence fell. Chazukk threw the body aside and lunged forward for another captive, this time a female.
He tore his attention away from them and began searching for the other M’zullians. Two guarding Kezule and M’kou, Chazukk and his henchman, four more in the circle of firelight, and the other six round the outside of the group of captives. All accounted for.
He knew the female would tell Chazukk where they’d gone, in fact he counted on it. The M’zullian would probably send five after them, leaving only the six guards and Chazukk to deal with.
“They went that way!” she shrieked as Chazukk pulled her close and placed his hand round her throat. “They just disappeared into the darkness!”
Chazukk pushed her back into the group of captives. “Follow them. Bring them back alive if possible,” he ordered.
Using hand signals, he ordered Banner to take Dzaou and Khadui and follow them. Nodding, they exchanged their guns for knives and melted into the night. Signaling to Jayza, he told him to work his way around to the far side of the captives and start taking the guards out. With a flick of his ears, the youth vanished instantly.
Between Darkness and Light Page 18
