She ran to his side, wrapping her arms around him consolingly, rocking him and whispering what she hoped were words of comfort as Kaid quietly excused himself.
“There must be a mistake,” he wept, clutching her and burying his head against her chest. “It can’t be true.”
“I’m afraid it is,” she said, reaching up to stroke his head. She’d never been so close to him before and was surprised at the feel of his skin—cool, and slightly textured, but pleasantly so. His scent this close was more noticeable, too; he had a slightly musty smell, like soft leather.
“It was K’hedduk who did it? The Directorate? Then he’ll have destroyed the hatchling, too!”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” she said uncomfortably, knowing in her heart that he was right.
“He would, and he’ll want to kill me now!”
“He’s not going to get near you, Zsurtul, I promise you that,” she said firmly. “No one knows you’re with us except Taizia and Meral, and they wouldn’t tell anyone. Zsurtul, I’m so sorry this has happened, but you need to be strong now.”
He raised his pale, tear-stained face. “You don’t know what happens when a dynasty changes,” he said, tears still overflowing from his large eyes. “The cushion on the throne ... it was made from the skin of the last Emperor of the last dynasty ... K’hedduk will have had my father skinned, maybe even alive!”
“Stop that right now,” she said firmly, shaking him. “Your father would have been dead before they did that, trust me! Are you telling me he wouldn’t fight so much that K’hedduk wouldn’t get enough whole skin from him to make anything? I don’t believe it, I know you, and your father must have been as brave as you are! He would have been dead, Zsurtul, honestly.”
Zsurtul brushed his hands across his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked in a small voice.
“I’m really sure,” she said, hugging him close again.
“What about my mother? He’d have to marry her to have a claim to the throne.”
Oh, Gods! She was right out of her depth here! “Then at least you know she’s alive,” she said. “K’hedduk isn’t going to be allowed to keep your throne, Zsurtul. We know Kusac is with Kezule. We’ve been asked to see if he’ll lead a coup against K’hedduk so you can reclaim it. The whole Alliance will be with him.”
He pushed his head up again. “They’d do that for me?”
“We have a Treaty with your father, which I presume you mean to honor. Of course we’ll help you retake your throne.”
He dissolved again into tears just as Kaid returned with three glasses and a bottle of what she recognized instantly as brandy from Keiss.
Setting them down on the chest of drawers, he opened the bottle and poured some into each of the glasses then brought two over for her and Zsurtul.
“Come on, Zsurtul,” she said. “Kaid’s brought a drink to make you feel better.”
She had to coax him up and when she had, Kaid handed him the glass with the most in it.
“Take this,” he said, folding the youth’s shaking hands around the glass. “I know this has been a shock for you, but you are now the Emperor of your people. They depend on you.”
If possible, Zsurtul paled even more and gulped a large mouthful of the drink down. Carrie had to rescue his glass as he began to cough when the fiery liquid hit him.
“That’s strong,” he said hoarsely, blinking. He accepted the tissue that Carrie held out to him and wiped his damp cheeks with it.
“I didn’t expect you to drink that much in one swallow,” said Kaid, going back for his own glass.
As he sipped it more carefully, there was a scratching at the door. It was opened by Valden, who let Gaylla in then shut the door behind her. The cub was carrying a plate of pastries and cookies.
“I brought these for you ‘cos you’re unhappy,” she said, carefully setting it down on Zsurtul’s other side then getting up on the bed beside him. “I chose the best ones.”
“That was very kind of you,” said Zsurtul. “Thank you, but I’m not really hungry right now.”
“You should eat,” said Gaylla, picking the plate up again now she was settled, and holding it out to him. “Take that one,” she said, pointing to a pink sugar-coated muffin. “It’s really nice. Toueesut’s cooks made them specially for us. Go on,” she urged when he hesitated.
He took it and as they began to chat, Carrie got up and joined Kaid by the chest. That was very kind of her. Gaylla’s really quite unique, Toueesut was right. I think she may well be an empathic healer—she can certainly make people feel better. Zsurtul shouldn’t be left alone tonight, Kaid.
I think you’ll find that’s why Gaylla came, he replied with a smile.
So he’s now Emperor Zsurtul. That’s going to be as big a shock to him as losing his father. We can’t take him with us on the Couana, we don’t know how Kezule will react to him.
I don’t intend to. He’ll stay here with the cubs and Jurrel.
Not Haven?
No. We know he’ll be safe with the Touibans. I suggest we tell everyone to continue to treat him as normal. It’ll only upset him and remind him of his loss if we do anything else.
“Carrie, please tell Zsurtul I can stay with him tonight. He’s like me, with no one special to look after him,” Gaylla called out to her.
“Of course you can, sweetie, if Zsurtul doesn’t mind,” she said. You were right, she sent to Kaid.
“See? I said they wouldn’t mind,” said Gaylla, already curled up in his lap.
Bring him out of his room to be with the rest of us when you can, please, Gaylla. He needs all our company today, sent Carrie.
I will, the cub replied.
We’d better leave before our Link gets much stronger, Kaid sent, reaching out to touch her cheek. I freely admit that after the last few days on Haven, I’m looking forward to being alone with you.
She smiled.
Kaid retrieved the empty glass from the Prince and they were about to leave when Zsurtul called out to them.
“Please, I’m not the Emperor yet,” he said awkwardly. “I don’t want anyone treating me like I am. I won’t be until I’m actually crowned.”
“We’ll see to it,” Kaid reassured him before they left.
“Your troubles aren’t over yet,” she said as they walked down the corridor back to the lounge. “Toueesut’s determined to go with us.”
Kaid sighed, looping his arm across her shoulders. “There’s always something,” he said. “I should be getting used to it by now. Still, at least I know it has to wait till tomorrow!”
Kij’ik, same day
Zayshul had been appalled when Kezule told her about the punishment.
“Why don’t you just execute him and be done with it? Or are you determined to make him suffer as much as possible first?” she’d demanded.
“I don’t want him dead now,” he’d said. “I admit I did at first. We have over one hundred and twenty people here, Zayshul, I need to keep to the codes of discipline that he helped set up. He must be punished for what he and his crew have done, and it must be now.”
“Why, in La’shol’s name?” she’d asked. “Why not in a few days when he’s stronger, since you won’t allow me to treat him? With that awful wound ...”
“Ghidd’ah dressed it for him,” he’d interrupted. “I’ll allow no more. That wound isn’t going to kill him, Zayshul. You’ve no experience of this kind of injury, but I have. I’ve seen many like it before on the battlefield. M’kou, take my wife and Shaidan up to the Medics quarters on the Officers level. See they stay there and that the vid com remains off.”
Now Shaidan lay huddled in a ball of misery on one of the beds, refusing to talk to her, and M’kou sat opposite her on the sofa as they waited.
“Why did he have to do it now? Couldn’t it have waited a few more days?” she asked M’kou in a low voice. “He’s being cruel just for the sake of it!”
M’kou stirred. “You’re wrong,” he said. “The G
eneral has thought it through very carefully, don’t you see that?”
She looked at him. “What’re you talking about?”
“If anyone else had done this, the General would have had him executed immediately. It’s only because of what led up to it that the Captain’s still alive,” explained M’kou. “An example still had to be set. By doing it today, the General knows the Captain can’t possibly remain conscious for three hours. He’s counting on him passing out. Justice will have been seen to be done, though. I haven’t told you this, by the way,” he added with a faint smile.
“Why? Why go to all that trouble?” she asked, utterly confused.
“It’s his way of admitting some responsibility for what happened, Zayshul,” he said gently, using her name for the first time. “He can never say so in words, but he knows your accusations were true.”
“What about you? You were shot, too.”
A shadow crossed his face. “I need to learn when to say no to my father, even if he is my commanding officer. I should never have agreed to find a female willing to do what the General wanted. This,” he indicated his injured arm, “is my punishment for agreeing to help. As for the other, I like to think I’m of more value to him doing what I normally do here than being one of his commandos.”
“I hope Kezule’s learned something from this,” she snapped.
“Seems to me it’s all the rest of us who pay the prices for his mistakes. Look at what it’s doing to Shaidan!”
“I think you’ll find he has. As for Shaidan, I agree he’s innocent in this, but it has to be said that his father acted very rashly, with no thought of what could happen to his son if his plan failed.”
Zayshul grudgingly had to agree.
Once the Sholans had been returned to their rooms, while Q’almo and M’zynal continued guarding Kusac, Kezule had returned to the briefing room. The screen was still on but now it only showed Kusac inside the booth. On the table in front of him was a small monitor, twin to the one M’zynal had, showing Kusac’s vital signs. The first hour was nearly up and his signs had remained the same as when he’d entered the booth.
Nothing must happen to Kusac—he could not live with the Sholan’s death on his conscience. Emergency plans had been laid in case anything went wrong, and Zayshul being on this level was part of them. He knew he could depend on her to do everything possible for her Sholan in the event of anything going wrong. He reached for the water jug in the center of the table, picking it up and pouring himself a bowl of it, then stopped. With his low-grade fever and the fluid loss, Kusac would be desperately thirsty. Resolutely he pushed the bowl back beside the jug. If Kusac couldn’t drink, then neither would he until this was over.
An alarm went off, shocking him to his feet. Kusac’s vital signs were sinking fast.
Shaidan, I need your help, said Vartra urgently, crouching down at the side of the bed.
The cub lifted his head and blinked at the Sholan in front of him. “Leave me alone,” he said dully.
You don’t mean that. I need your help, not for me, for your father.
“Where were you when he needed you?” he asked angrily.
“Shaidan, are you all right?” asked Zayshul, looking over the top of the sofa at him.
They can’t see me, only you can. Shaidan, you must help. Your father’s in danger, said Vartra, his tone urgent now. Get them to take off your collar, you must link your mind to his, let him draw on you for energy!
“What kind of danger?” After yesterday, he wasn’t sure he completely trusted this male who only came when no one else was around.
He’s trying to heal himself. Shaidan, time is running out! You must trust me!
“Shaidan, you aren’t talking to yourself, are you?” asked Zayshul, getting up and starting to come over to him.
The cub sat up. “You can’t see anyone?” he asked her, tentatively reaching out to touch Vartra’s hand. When his passed right through it, he gave a yell of shock.
Get her to take the collar off! They’ve turned it up so you can’t feel your father, sent Vartra. He’s dying, Shaidan! Only you can save him!
“My collar! Take it off!” he yelled, reaching up and trying to pull it free. “Take it off!”
Zayshul was at his side in seconds, M’kou not far behind her. “What’s wrong?” she demanded, reaching through Vartra to pick him up.
“Take the collar off!” he shrieked, struggling free. “He says you turned it up so I couldn’t feel my father! He needs me, take it off now!”
M’kou reached out and scooped him up. “I’d do it,” he said as the cub struggled vainly against him.
“Is it wise under the circumstances?” she asked. “Shaidan, calm down. There’s only us here.”
“He’s only going to get more worked up if you don’t.”
“The Sholan by the bed told me,” said Shaidan, pushing against M’kou’s good arm. “It’s urgent, he says.”
“Stop struggling, Shaidan,” she said, glancing over to the bed before reaching up to undo the collar. “Put him down, M’kou.”
Shaidan collapsed into a heap on the floor, keening loudly in grief as a buzzer sounded.
M’kou froze, then grabbed hold of Zayshul. “Get to the assembly hall now! Kusac needs medical assistance!”
“What?” Zayshul couldn’t quite take in what he was saying.
M’kou dragged her to the door, reaching down behind his chair to pull out a large medical kit. “Go!” he said, thrusting it into her arms, thumbing the door open, and pushing her through it. “I’ll stay with Shaidan!”
She ran.
“He’s dead,” said Q’almo, shocked, looking at the display. “No pulse, no heartbeat. Nothing.”
“He can’t be,” said M’zynal, reaching into the booth and placing his hand on Kusac’s throat. “Burn it!” he swore. “There’s no reason for this to happen! It doesn’t make sense!”
M’kou watched in shock as Shaidan was lifted into the air by some invisible force and shaken till he stopped keening.
“I can do that!” said Shaidan, rubbing furiously at his tear-wet cheeks. “Put me down.”
He blinked, staring at the cub as he was returned to the floor, trying to see the—something—that was capable of lifting him and talking to him. As he stared, he saw a faint darkness, like a shadow between him and the cub.
Shaidan hunkered down on the floor and closed his eyes.
His father’s mind was still and silent, but he knew a last glowing spark still remained. It was fading fast, and buried so deep that it scared him to think of going there. Don’t think, he muttered, and reaching out for the spark, he let go of himself.
Darkness rushed in, surrounding him; he shrieked, clutching for the spark, begging for help, incoherent with terror. The spark flared, pulsing once, igniting something buried and forgotten. Seeing it, Shaidan clutched it, too, filling it with his terror-fueled energy.
That energy surged through Kusac, searing and burning him.
“Wait! I think I felt a heartbeat!” said M’zynal as he heard the General running across to them.
On the Couana, Carrie fought against the enveloping darkness, trying desperately to breathe and cry out as her struggles became weaker and weaker. Suddenly the nightmare snapped, freeing her. She gave a hoarse cry as a terror not her own flooded through her.
“Carrie, for Vartra’s sake, come back to me!” Kaid loomed over her, his hands on her shoulders, shaking her.
She reached a trembling hand up to touch his cheek, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light in their bedroom. The look of fear on his face frightened her.
“What happened? You suddenly disappeared from my mind,” he said, settling down onto his haunches, still astride her. “It’s our Link day, this shouldn’t happen.”
Before she could answer, it came again. This time Kaid was with her as the terror pulsed through them both, dragging them deep into the other mind, linking all three of them together.
“And another
,” M’zynal was saying as Kezule came to a stop beside them.
“I can see it on the monitor,” confirmed Q’almo. “All the readings are rising, pulse and heartbeat steadying.”
M’zynal sighed and stood back from the booth. “He’s fine,” he said to Kezule. “I don’t know what the hell that was, but it looks like it’s over.”
“You’re sure?”
M’zynal nodded. “See for yourself, General. He is unconscious, though.”
Kezule stepped forward, pressing his fingertips against Kusac’s throat. Beneath them his pulse beat slowly but steadily. Then he looked at the dressing. It needed changing already. He frowned. This wound was healing far faster than he’d expected. It could be his imagination, but unfortunately, unless he had one of the other Sholans look at it, no one apart from himself had any experience of energy weapon wounds.
Kusac gasped again as pain and energy exploded in and around him, forcing him to expand. Briefly he felt the touch of gestalt, the three minds merging with his, then it was gone. Around him, the sparks were relighting in an ever-expanding outward cascade, each one a memory that demanded he not give it up.
You have to heal, Father, a small thought reminded him. Shaidan. He reached for his son, and the glands, and this time, he had the strength and more to spare.
Kezule met Zayshul as she ran into the hall. “He’s fine,” he said, taking her by the arm and attempting to steer her out again.
“I want to see for myself,” she said.
“No. Trust me, Zayshul, he is fine.”
She searched his face then relaxed and nodded and let him take her next door into the briefing room.
“What happened?” she asked, sitting down at the table.
“He stopped breathing briefly,” said Kezule, pouring her a bowl of water and handing it to her.
She took it gratefully. “You’re not having one?”
Between Darkness and Light Page 84
