King's Sacrifice

by Margaret Weis

  Maigrey buckled on her bloodsword, strapped it on over the black tunic that was her own camouflage in the dark tunnels of the Corasians. Where the folds of the fabric failed to cover it, however, shining silver armor glinted bright in the plane's light. Agis wore his centurion body armor. Brother Daniel had returned to his brown monk's robes; all the arguing in the galaxy had not been able to convince the priest to wear protective clothing.

  Maigrey opened the hatch.

  Agis jumped out first, beam rifle held ready, met Sparafucile standing watch at the bottom of the ladder. Brother Daniel followed, moving with more ease in the long robes than he had in the less confining layman's clothing. Maigrey stepped out of the hatch, looked over the barren landscape, whose black twisting mass of vegetation contrasted sharply with patches of barren ground.

  It was dark, presumably night, though perhaps no day ever came to this fragment of a planet, far from a weak, distant sun. Looking up, she could see clearly the cold, bright stars of a strange galaxy.

  Beneath these stars, my lady, you will die.

  Was it Sagan's voice warning her? Her nearness already acting to draw him back from the shadowed places that he walked? Or Abdiel's. Taunting, hoping to burn her spirit as laser fire burns the flesh. She saw, in one brief, illuminating flash, as if lightning had split the darkness, an image of silver armor, and a small silver knife, and silver stars. And then the image was gone.

  She was, she realized suddenly, being given a choice. Turn back.

  And break her vow—her several vows—again?

  Turn back! Beneath these stars, you will die.

  "Come ahead, lady-mine." The assassin held out his hand to her.

  God, if He was around, certainly had a warped sense of humor.

  Turn back. . . .

  Maigrey gave her hand to Sparafucile. He assisted her to descend to the ground. She inserted the needles of the bloodsword into her palm.

  They ran the distance from the planes to the underground entrance, arrived out of breath and light-headed due to the thinness of the atmosphere. The cyborg lounged against the mound of slag and rock, the faint glow of the twist lighting the darkness. He was alone, waiting for them.

  "My men went inside to have a look around," he said in answer to Maigrey's questioning glance. "No sign of a welcoming committee. My feelings are hurt. Maybe we weren't expected, after all."

  Maigrey activated the bloodsword. Its blue-white plasma blaze illuminated the cavern a short distance ahead, lit a passageway that delved straight and smooth into the rock.

  "Never could see much purpose in those things," Xris remarked, eyeing the bloodsword.

  "It has its advantages. Like the fact that I'm now connected to Abdiel's mind," said Maigrey quietly. "He knows I'm here. He knows—or thinks he does—what I'm after."

  "Quite an advantage," said Xris dryly.

  "It is. I'll keep him focused on me and those with me. He won't know about you, or what you're doing."

  Guardian. The last of the Guardians come to do battle. You did not heed my warning. Turn back, Lady Maigrey, or here you will be defeated.

  Maigrey heard him, did not choose to answer. As in fighting with the bloodsword, she kept her mental shield activated, refusing to lower it to lash out at her opponent. She could never hope to win a contest with the mind-seizer. She could merely hope to hold her own, keep him occupied, maintain her discipline and self-control.

  She was now engaged in what would amount to a running battle with him. She could feel him probing, jabbing, seeking to find a way to penetrate her mind's armor; hitting, hacking, slashing, trying to discover the weak point in her defense, force it to give way before his brutal onslaught.

  And he was more fortunate than she was. He could afford to devote his entire attention to her. She, on the other hand, had to divide her forces, send forth a portion to find Sagan, reserve a portion to defend herself and her comrades against a real physical enemy. All designed to weaken her, enable him to seize her mind, her soul.

  Wary, alert, she moved into the passage. Xris walked at her side. The bloodsword lit their way, but she was using it for more than light. She was using it to focus Abdiel's mind, forcing him to concentrate on her.

  A clatter of footsteps distracted her. A man she recognized as belonging to Xris's team appeared out of the darkness.

  "About three meters down, this passage splits in two. One heads to the right, slopes at a pretty good angle. The other goes left, runs straight as far as I could see. And we got company coming. A red glow, down the right-hand side."

  "That's the way I need to go," said Maigrey.

  Xris had switched on a small vidscreen located on the cybernetic arm, studied a diagram of the Corasian outpost. "According to this, we take the left. The central computer room's three levels down, a straight shot. I hope this vision of yours is accurate, sister."

  Britt led them to the branching portion of the passage, where they met up with the rest of Xris's men, their weapons drawn and aimed down the right-hand side of the tunnel. Maigrey could see the red glow shining ominously brighter. She glanced around, saw the cyborg still standing in the passage.

  "What are you waiting for?" Maigrey snapped. "We'll take care of them. Hurry up, before they see you."

  Xris appeared undecided. "You sure you don't need me, sister?"

  "I need you," said Maigrey grimly. "I need you to do what I paid you to do. That's in the contract," she added with a half smile.

  Xris shrugged. "You heard the boss, men. Move out." His force—including Raoul and the Little One—started down the dark left-hand tunnel.

  The cyborg drew a twist from his pocket.

  "Are you crazy?" Maigrey whispered angrily. "In these passages, they'd smell the smoke from that thing a kilometer away!"

  Xris smiled. "Don't worry, sister. When I work, I don't smoke." He put the twist in his mouth, clamped down on it with his teeth. "I chew."

  He looked down the passage. The red glow was growing steadily brighter.

  "Take care of yourselves," he advised, and took out after his squad.

  Maigrey sighed, shook her head.

  "Don't worry over man-machine," stated Sparafucile, shrugging, grinning. "His odds . . . better than ours, I think."

  "You're right there," Maigrey admitted.

  She peered down the tunnel, but couldn't see him or his men for the darkness.

  "Let's go."

  Xris adjusted his artificial eye to the night vision lens that made full use of even the faintest light to enhance his visual range. In this instance, the light was coming from somewhere up ahead of him and it, too, was faintly tinged with red.

  "Corasian," he muttered, but listening, he couldn't hear the telltale squeak of gears, the faint whir of their motors, the crunch of their wheels over the gritty rock floor of the tunnel.

  He did hear the sound of explosions and the high-pitched whine of a beam rifle, but that came from some distance away, behind him, and far to his right.

  "Good luck, sister," he said softly.

  He continued on, passed several openings that were apparently additional passageways converging into this one. He remembered what he'd said about an ant farm. He attempted to scan them as he passed, but discovered that his scanning device was being jammed, either deliberately or by some sort of weird energy flux. The side tunnels appeared dark and empty, however.

  Removing the butt end of the soggy twist from his mouth, Xris tossed it aside, drew out another, and started after his men. Two shadows—one large and one small—blocked his path.

  The cyborg raised his weapons hand, started to fire, caught himself just in time. He had recognized the fedora.

  "What the hell are you two doing back here?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. "My men are up ahead. Why aren't you with them?"

  "I am most extremely sorry, friend Xris." Raoul breathed into his ear. "But the Little One is not as locomotory as your friends and they seemed disinclined to wait for us. In consequence, we fell b
ehind. Then, you see, we have not thought to bring a source of light—"

  "Shit," said Xris.

  He heard a strange sound, a combination of a growl and chuckle. Looking down, he saw the eyes of the Little One glisten from behind the engulfing collar of the raincoat.

  "Please continue on," Raoul said pleasantly. "According to the Little One, your men are waiting for you up ahead. They do not want to proceed farther without orders. We will have no trouble finding our way now. And we will serve as—how do you military types put it?—the guardians of your rear end."

  Xris had the feeling he was more likely to end up with his rear end in a sling by leaving these two behind him, but time was pressing and he didn't relish the thought of tagging along with the Loti and the ambulatory raincoat.

  Shrugging his human shoulder, gnawing on the end of the twist, he continued on down the passage. He could hear, behind him, the mincing steps of Raoul—wearing flats—and the hem of a raincoat brushing against the floor.

  Xris found his men waiting for him at a bend in the passageway. Beyond that, light shone brightly enough that his eye readjusted to normal vision. He could hear a faint thrumming and beating, some type of heavy machinery, possibly a generator. Above that, the sound of robot bodies, but they were relatively far away.

  "Where's the poisoner?" asked Britt uneasily.

  "Right behind me," Xris said. "What's up?"

  "The passage ends, opens into a large cavelike room filled with water. An underground lake, maybe. The path runs over it, like a bridge."

  "Is that where the light's coming from? What's the source?"

  "You won't believe this," Lee predicted. "Take a look. The goddam lake's on fire. See for yourself."

  Xris edged his way forward, peered into the cavern room. Lee had a slight tendency to exaggerate, but in this instance he hadn't been far wrong. Yellow flame rippled over the surface of the black water, casting an eerie light that flickered, wavered, and danced on the glistening walls of the cave. The flame moved and shifted with the drafts that whistled through the cavern walls. Xris watched, expecting to see the fire die out, but the flame continued burning. Sniffing, he detected an oily smell, like gasoline.

  "It's just what it looks like," reported Lee, holding an analyzer, used to test air samples, water, and anything they came across that might prove hazardous. "HaO with some type of oil floating on the surface. Don't know what the oil is, I'd have to test it further, but it's probably exuded naturally by the rock."

  Bernard ran his fingers over the wall. "Nothing in here."

  "No," said Lee, consulting his equipment. "This section of the tunnel walls appears to be coated with some type of flame retardant. Safety measure, no doubt. But they couldn't use it in there, it'd put out the lights."

  "Toxic?" Xris asked, looking hard at the wavering flames skittering and dancing over the water.

  "Not to breathe. In fact, this stuff, when it catches fire, seems to improve the air quality. I'm reading higher oxygen content down here than on the surface. Pretty ingenious, whoever figured it out. Cheap source of light and heat. But," Lee added, "I wouldn't suggest you take a bath in it."

  Xris glanced out at the flame-covered lake, the bridge spanning it. "I hadn't planned on it."

  "Oh, and, boss ... I don't think firing lasguns would be such a hot idea in there, either. Or rather, it might be a real hot idea."

  "One blast inside that cavern," added Bernard, "and we're likely to find ourselves in the galaxy's biggest toaster oven."

  Xris looked at the flames swirling over the surface of the water, the tunnel walls, covered with glistening oil. He holstered his lasgun. "From now on we stick to dart guns, bolt pistols. Britt, looks like you get to use your crossbow. Stash the beam rifles. No sense dragging them around. We'll pick them up on our way back."

  Britt lowered his beam rifle to the floor of the cavern, then cast a nervous glance back down the passage. "I thought you said that poisoner was coming along behind. Shouldn't he be here by now?"

  The passageway was empty, no sign of Raoul or the Little One. Xris tried his scanner once more, gave it up. Nothing but static.

  "I don't trust that Loti. Do what you can to hide the weapons, shove 'em under a rock or something. I'm going back."

  The cyborg headed down the passage, moving away from the light. He listened intently, but couldn't hear a sound. The mincing footfalls had ceased, the dragging of the raincoat quieted. He cursed himself for leaving them behind, cursed the woman for bringing them along. Maybe they were in league with this Abdiel character—

  His night-vision eye caught sight of motion—Raoul, hiding in a niche in the cavern wall, beckoning to him.

  Distrustfully, weapons hand activated, Xris advanced.

  "What?" he began.

  The Loti shook his head emphatically, placed a gloved finger near his lips. He motioned Xris closer. The cyborg stepped into the niche, was disconcerted to feel the Loti's slender body press up against his, the gloss-covered lips brush against his ear.

  "The Little One says that there are two mind-dead moving this way," Raoul whispered, his words little more than a breath. "That direction."

  He motioned down the converging tunnel Xris had passed earlier.

  The cyborg looked down it, listened. He heard faintly the sound of footsteps.

  "They must not know we are here. Make no sound. If they detect anything suspicious, they will report it instantly to their master."

  The poisoner's breath was moist on Xris's face, the faint scent of perfume cloying in his nostrils. The passages were deathly silent. The sounds of battle had ceased; the lady had either won or lost. He could hear the footsteps drawing nearer.

  His men, at the opposite end, were going about their business quietly, stealthily. That was habitual, routine. And they could easily deal with two of these humans, but from what he had learned about the mind-dead, all it would take was one glimpse of his men and the alarm would be sounded.

  The footsteps were nearer, he could hear their voices.

  "The woman has entered."

  "We are not to stop her?"

  "No. Our master is dealing with her. We are to wait here for the young king, who is—"

  A series of beeps broke the silence, lights flashed. Xris looked down at his cybernetic arm. The systems were running through their normal checking sequence, advising him that all was in proper working order.

  "Shut it off!" Raoul hissed urgently.

  Xris glared at him.

  "You must!" the Loti insisted.

  Xris knew he must. The mind-dead, discussing their orders, hadn't heard anything yet, but it would only be a matter of time. They were near the tunnel entrance. The stabbing beams of their nuke lamps sliced through the darkness, probed here and there.

  Cursing bitterly beneath his breath, the cyborg reached over, switched off the arm, felt it fall heavily, uselessly to his side. It was dead weight now, dragging him down, reminding him that he was, in reality, nothing but a cripple. A helpless, useless cripple . . .

  "We will patrol this area first," said one of the mind-dead, stepping into the passageway. He turned in the direction of Xris's men. "Then we will take up our position near the outside entrance."

  "What do we do when the young king arrives? Apprehend him?" The other mind-dead, the one asking the questions, was a woman.

  The two proceeded at a slow pace down the tunnel, moving away from Xris, heading toward his men.

  "We are to take him to Abdiel—"

  Xris started to activate his arm. So what if they heard him. So what if they alerted their master. So what if everyone in this whole goddam place knew he and his squad were here. He hadn't expected to get out of this without a fight anyway. . . .

  Raoul was shaking a gloved finger in front of his nose.

  Xris was about to shove the poisoner out of his way when the Little One suddenly darted out of the niche. He clapped a small tube to his mouth, aimed it in the direction of the mind-dead, and blew. Sh
ifting his aim, he blew again.

  One of the mind-dead slapped his hand against the back of his neck, as if killing a stinging insect. The female turned to look at him. Her hand came up to her cheek. The male slumped to the ground. A split second later the female toppled down beside him. Their bodies lay still, inert on the cavern floor.

  "Now, friend cyborg," said Raoul softly, "you may turn yourself back on. They are dead in body as well as in mind."

  Xris activated his arm. He was breathing heavily, sweating, a prey to the panicked reaction he always experienced when his mechanized half—the half he loathed, the half that kept him alive because he was too much a coward to die—shut down.

  He moved through the tunnel, stopped to look intently at the bodies lying at his feet. Putting his toe beneath one of the mind-dead, he flipped her over. She was dead, all right.

  "What killed them?"

  Raoul knelt down, pointed to a small black object on the woman's cheek—a tiny metal dart.

  "Allow me," Raoul advised.

  He plucked it out, held it gingerly between gloved fingers, handed it to the Little One. The empath held open one of the many pockets of the voluminous raincoat. Raoul dropped in the dart, retrieved the other, held it up for Xris to examine.

  "Do not touch. The poison kills instantly, as you saw. It is quite a painless way to die. The victim feels only a slight stinging sensation, then . . . nothing."

  Xris looked over at the Little One. His small hands—and presumably the blowgun—had both vanished back inside the raincoat. The cyborg thought of all the times he'd turned his back on what he had assumed was the harmless empath.

  "He got any more of those?"

  "Yes, certainly," said Raoul. "It is his favorite weapon. He is so sensitive, you know. It was difficult for him to kill anything without being terribly disturbed by his victim's suffering. This is much easier on him."

  "I'm glad we didn't upset his sensibilities," Xris said dryly. He chewed on the end of his twist, glanced up and down the passageway. "Any more of these mind-dead around?"

  Raoul looked at the Little One. The fedora replied in the negative.