"That won't be necessary, XJ," Nola said, returning with the blanket. "Everything's under control."
She was, at least. She had dried her tears, cleaned all trace of them from her face. Gently, she covered Tusk, drawing the blanket up over his shoulders, studiously avoiding looking at the large crimson stain that immediately began spreading over the cloth.
"I guess this is the end, sweetheart," Tusk said quietly, looking at her, filling his mind with her light to drive back the dark shadows. "It's been kind of a strange life, but like the song says, we took the long way home. I guess I'm gonna get there before you do, but—"
"Nonsense, Tusk, don't talk like this." Nola quickly wiped away two tears that had crept past her guard. "We're going to get you to a hospital and you're going to be line. Aren't you?" She ran her hand over Tusk's tight-curled hair, adjusted the pillow beneath his head.
"Nola, the fleet's four hours away and that's banking on everything going good." He coughed. He shifted his gaze to die cyborg. "You tell her."
Xris understood. "I'm sorry, sister, but I have to be honest. He won't last that long. Nothing short of a miracle can save him. The pain will get worse, much worse, until even the drug won't block it." The cyborg held the syringe to the light. "The best thing we could do for him would be to . . ."
Nola wasn't listening. "Miracle!" she repeated softly to herself. She was staring in the direction of the mounds. Swiftly, she bent down, kissed Tusk, fussed over his blanket. "Don't give him any more of that stuff."
"Nola!" Tusk groaned.
"Well, maybe just enough to keep him quiet," she added severely.
Getting to her feet, Nola walked over, took hold of the beam rifle, and, before Xris fully realized her intention, started to climb the ladder leading to the hatch. "You stay here, guard the bomb," she told him.
"Not so fast, sister!" The cyborg grabbed her wrist. "Just where do you think you're going?"
"Inside there." Nola gestured toward the mounds with a shake of her curly hair. "I have to find someone."
Xris stared at her. "Listen, sister! Those aren't grapefruit my boys are dropping outside there!"
The spaceplane rocked, shivered. Laser fire burst around them. Nola turned her head, looked reluctantly out the viewscreen. Spaceplanes dived, bright beams slanted along the ground, killing anything they hit. The forest was burning. Some of the Corasians, feeding off the fire's energy, were growing stronger, but anti-matter bombs were now falling among them. Blackened dying blobs littered the area in front of die mounds.
"And if you did manage to make it to the tunnels alive, you're going to face more of those things, not to mention those human zombies. You haven't got a chance, sister!" Xris's strong cybernetic hand tightened its grip.
"Neither has he," said Nola, looking at him steadfastly. Tears glimmered in her eyelashes. "And do you think that if anything happened to him, I'd want to go on?"
Xris regarded her thoughtfully. Slowly, the cyborg released his hand.
"All right. I'll contact my men, tell them to give you covering fire if they can, at least watch out for you if they can't. Once you make it inside, there's a Loti who might be able to help you find whoever it is you're looking for and keep you from falling in with the wrong crowd. His name's Raoul. He's got a buddy, an empath."
He was rewarded with a smile that rearranged the freckles on the woman's pale face, lit her green eyes.
"Stay with Tusk, XJ," Nola called to the remote. "Don't let him die. Remember, he owes you money."
"Die!" The remote's lights flickered. It sank to the deck. Then, with a struggle, XJ roused itself. "Owes me money. That's right. If this isn't just like you, Tusk. You'd do anything to try to screw me out of money. You d-die"—XJ's audio fluttered, but it managed to hang on—"and I'll sue your black ass! And now, I ... I have to go . . . figure out how much . . . you owe me!"
Wobbling unsteadily, the remote fled back to the cockpit. "Excuse me," it said. "System failure."
The lights went out.
Tusk shouted. "Nola! For God's sake—"
"Good-bye, Tusk. Don't go anywhere without me."
Nola's footsteps clattered on the ladder, the hatch whirred open, shut again.
"Why'd you let her go?" Tusk demanded.
The cyborg lit the twist in his mouth, blew smoke.
"I had a wife . . . once," he said.
Chapter Fifteen
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fete, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Ulysses
The fire burning on the water seemed to burn in Sagan's brain. He could literally neither see nor hear clearly for the rage that consumed him. The flames of his fury roared in his ears, the smoke clouded his vision, the heat sucked the air from his lungs. He had to struggle to breathe, to draw a breath. Pain shot through his chest, sweat chilled his body. He alternately shivered and burned with the fever of his anger.
He had experienced fury like this only one other time in his life: the night Maigrey had betrayed him. It had been in a red rage like this one that he'd struck her down. And now, again, she had been the one to stop him, thwart him. . . .
Sagan struggled with himself, but the flames licked his soul, seared his mind. The pain in his chest increased, blood boiled in his head. It seemed something must burst and it occurred to him, suddenly, that unless he could regain control, he would die, consumed by the fire.
"You counseled me to keep my feith, my lord," came a voice, soft, gentle, soothing as balm. "I do not understand His ways, but I rest my trust in Him."
A hand touched Sagan's. He felt an object press hard against his palm, a dagger, its metal warm from being carried near the body, its blade small but extremely sharp, its hilt—an eight-pointed star. .
" 'Benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini. Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord,' " whispered Brother Fideles.
Maigrey watched Brother Daniel move nearer Sagan, heard the priest's gentle voice, and was afraid, for a moment, from the dark fury on Sagan's face that he might strike the young man.
"Benedictus, qui venit in nomine Domini. Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord,"' Brother Daniel said softly.
The expression on the Warlord's face did not alter, the rage smoldered inside, but the fire no longer blazed wild, out of control. He was rational once more, thinking. Either Brother Daniel's prayers were extremely powerful, or he had offered something besides prayer.
Maigrey did not dare risk the mind-link. Abdiel was preoccupied with Dion, his mental probes darting, jabbing into the young man, but part of him would be alert to their thoughts, their plans.
She was aware of Sagan staring at her strangely, intently, as if he had some dark and dreadful choice to make and was asking her for help.
She smiled at him, reminding him silently that no matter how deep the darkness around them, they were together once more. Nothing, no one had ever defeated them, when they acted together.
Abruptly Sagan averted his gaze. He sighed, long, shuddering. His mind touched hers, but it came to her from a far distance. He had withdrawn, retreated behind the walls of his soul.
Be ready.
He had a plan, but gave no hint of it. Of course, he dared not. Abdiel would be listening.
Tense, Maigrey measured distances with her eyes, tried to anticipate what Sagan had in mind. Mikael, the mind-dead who stood guard over them, was nearest the Warlord and would, therefore, be Sagan's responsibility.
She was nearest Abdiel and Dion, though the bier separated them. But there was no telling what the mind-seizer would do, when Dion refused him.
If Dion refused him.
He would. He was Semele's son, after all. She had seen from the moment he entered that he was his own person now; he had chosen to be the hero of his own life. After this, he would no longer need them, his Guardians. And that was right, the way it should be. And when he made hi
s choice, his decision, he would reach for his sword. As he was doing, now. His right hand, separating itself from Abdiel's deadly touch. The left, reaching out . . .
"I know what you want to give me and I reject it. After all, I came only to get my sword." Dion spoke aloud.
Maigrey, looking at Sagan but not looking, saw the muscles in his arms and shoulders tighten, saw him flick his gaze swiftly at her, nod obliquely at the mind-dead guard.
"Is that your final decision, my king?" Abdiel was asking.
Mikael, hearing the voice, turned his dead eyes toward Abdiel, the one who gave him life. Maigrey answered the Warlord, lowering her eyelids slighdy, imperceptibly to show she understood. Sagan opened the fingers of his left hand, the hand near Brother Daniel. Maigrey saw a flash of silver in his palm, then the fingers closed over it.
She understood. He had the priest's dagger.
"It is," said Dion.
"A poor one." Abdiel's hand slid inside the folds of the magenta robes.
Mikael raised the beam rifle, but uncertain who to shoot, he looked to Abdiel for orders. The mind-seizer's thoughts were not on his disciple, however.
The crystal scythe glittered in the firelight.
"Dion, get back!" Maigrey cried.
Dion saw the flash of the blade. Twisting sideways, he hurled his body across the bier, making, in the same motion, a wild, desperate grab for his sword.
Abdiel's blow sliced harmlessly through the air. He raised the blade again, brought it slashing down on the rock bier.
Dion rolled, fell off the tomb, and landed heavily on the floor. He scrambled to his feet, fumbling at the sword, trying to fit the needles into a hand that shook with excitement and tension.
"Kill the Guardians!" Abdiel ordered his disciple. "I will deal with the king!"
Mikael spun around, facing Maigrey, beam rifle aimed, ready to fire.
The Warlord sprang, stabbed swiftly, skillfully, driving the small blade of the priest's dagger into the mind-dead's neck, severing the spinal cord.
Mikael dropped without a cry.
"You're finished, mind-seizer!" Sagan shouted. "Give up!"
Abdiel, swinging the scythe, advanced on Dion.
The young man looked up at the fragile crystal scythe. It seemed he couldn't believe he was being seriously attacked with such a weapon.
"Don't let the blade touch you!" Maigrey cried, climbing over the bier, trying desperately to reach him.
Startled, obeying, if not understanding, Dion dodged, just as Abdiel swung the scythe. The serpent's tooth whistled past the young man's chest.
Dion managed to drive the needles of the bloodsword into his hand. He raised the weapon against the mind-seizer.
The bloodsword wouldn't activate.
Dion stared at it in dismay, shook it.
Abdiel struck again. Dion blocked the scythe's blow with the bloodsword's hilt.
"What's wrong with it?" he shouted.
"He's drained the power!" Maigrey caught her breath in terror, but the hand-guard on the bloodsword protected the young man's flesh from the tooth's dreadful bite.
Dion turned the blow, fell back before the old man's frantic attack.
Maigrey made a lunge for the mind-seizer, hoping to grasp the wrist of his knife hand, break it. Abdiel was aware of her, aware of her intent. Whirling, he slashed out at her with the crystal blade.
"Keep your distance," he warned.
Maigrey halted.
"Mind-seizer!" The Warlord sprang on top of the bier. The small dagger in his hand, he jumped to the ground behind Abdiel. "You can't fight all three of us!"
Abdiel turned, scythe shaking slightly in the palsied hand. Slowly, talking the while, he began to retreat down the narrow span of rock, heading for the entrance to the northern passage that lay behind him.
"I don't intend to fight you, Derek. I have no need. My forces by this time have acquired the space-rotation bomb, compliments of His Majesty. I have a working bomb. I don't need the plans to build another. I shall simply walk out of here, leave you to the Corasians. That is not, unfortunately, how I intended to destroy you, but I will try to bear up under the disappointment.
"I suppose I shall have to go back to that fool, Peter Robes." Abdiel grimaced, transferred the lidless gaze to Dion. "One final offer, my king. One last chance to become a true ruler of men? Ah, don't try it, Derek!" The mind-seizer whirled, faced Sagan, held up the serpent's tooth. "Unless you'd prefer this 'life' to death in a Corasian meat locker?"
The Warlord's fingers clenched and unclenched around the hilt of the small ceremonial dagger. He said nothing to her, but Maigrey understood his plan, as they'd always understood each other. He was going to risk it all on one desperate lunge.
Maigrey glanced swiftly around, gauged the situation. Dion stood about three paces from her, to her right. Abdiel was directly in front of her, on the bridge, Sagan six paces to her left. She was closest to Dion. It would be her duty to guard the king.
She looked back at Derek, saw him prepared, mentally, physically, to strike. She put out of her mind what might happen to him, to them both, and braced herself to run.
"We can't just let him go!" Dion shouted, frustrated. He was still gripping the useless bloodsword. "He has the bomb—"
"No . . . no, he doesn't, kid. ..."
Dion lowered the bloodsword, pressed his hand over the commlink at the base of his skull, behind his left ear. "Tusk?"
The voice was weak, barely audible.
"I heard, kid. And I've got the bomb. Safe. Tell that bastard . . . to go to . . . to go to . . ."
"Tusk!" Dion cried, but there was no answer.
The young man raised his eyes, fixed his gaze on Abdiel. "The space-rotation bomb is safe. Your forces have been defeated."
"You expect me to believe you?" asked Abdiel coolly.
"I can't lie to you. You told me that yourself. Contact your disciples, mind-seizer." Dion stood tall, blue eyes shining cold and brilliant, reflecting the flame, fire on ice. "Does anyone respond? Anyone at all?"
"They won't," added Maigrey, silver armor shining. "I will share the vision with you, if you want, mind-seizer. The cyborg and his men have wiped out your mind-dead. The Corasians are under attack and will soon be destroyed."
"You're finished, mind-seizer." The Warlord straightened. "Throw your blade into the water."
Abdiel's face did not alter expression, the lidless eyes left Dion, slid to Sagan, and from Sagan to Maigrey.
"I'm finished?' the mind-seizer hissed, and laughed. "Who are really the losers here? An old man who brought down a royal house? An old man who has ruled a galaxy for eighteen years? An old man who made three of the most powerful people in the universe bow to his will?
"Or the three of you. This is the end of the Blood Royal, and you know it. You are fighting a battle that, though you win, you must inevitably lose. For this long' will be the last. . . ."
Abdiel whirled, aimed the crystal scythe at Dion, and threw.
Maigrey sensed the mind-seizer's thoughts shift to Dion, saw Abdiel's eyes follow the thought, his hand follow the eyes. Sagan was racing to stop the mind-seizer, but the Warlord would be too late. Maigrey sprang forward, shoved Dion as far from danger as she could, shielded him with her body.
The crystal scythe flashed in the air, a small, fiery comet. It struck shining silver armor. The scythe shattered. Shards of glass glittered in the blazing light, a myriad tiny, fiery suns fell, gleaming, to the rock floor, flickered, and went out.
Dion was knocked to the floor by Maigrey's blow. He started to get to his feet.
"Don't touch any of the crystal," she warned. "Even the smallest slivers are still deadly."
Gingerly, keeping his bare hands off the bits of broken glass, he stood up, hurried over to her.
"Are you all right, my lady?" he asked anxiously.
"Yes, sire." Maigrey smiled, quickly moved her left hand to cover her right. "And you, Your Majesty?"
"I'm fine." Dion loo
ked over to Abdiel.
Sagan had one arm locked around the mind-seizer's chest, his other hand grasped the needle-glistening palm, kept it pinned firmly to the old man's side. Abdiel hung limply in the Warlord's grasp. The lidless eyes glinted malevolently.
Dion stepped forward. "You are our prisoner, mind-seizer. You will be taken back to our galaxy and put on trial for your crimes—"
Sagan tightened his grip. "He must die, Your Majesty. As long as he lives, you are not safe from him. "
Brother Daniel, standing behind the bier, forgotten, came hurrying forward. "You can't mean to murder him, my lord."
"It wouldn't be murder. An execution. Long overdue."
Dion frowned. "No, he can do nothing to me now. I know him for what he is. He's old and feeble and helpless. It would be dishonorable to kill him. I won't have his murder on my conscience."
The old man laughed. "You think Derek will obey you? He's long wanted my death. You won't stop him. And night after night, you will dream of this place, of this time, my King. And when you dream, Dion, you will dream of me. . . ."He chuckled again, dryly, a hoarse croak. "Go ahead. Kill me, Lord Derek Sagan. I've done for worse to you!"
The lidless eyes looked to Maigrey, and they shone with a strange and terrible exultation.
Maigrey stood quietly, calmly, her left hand covering her right. The grey eyes were mirrors, without expression, letting no one inside. Sagan saw, on her fingers, a thin, glistening trail of blood.
The old man disdained to struggle. He seemed almost to nestle in the Warlord's arms. "Kill me, Derek!" he breathed. "Kill me now! Kill me while the boy watches. Kill me, as you killed his Guardian. . . . Kill me as you will kill the one, the only person you ever loved. ..."
"Sagan, no!" Dion shouted. "I command you!"
"My lord, stop! For the sake of your own soul!" Brother Daniel endeavored to fling his arms around Sagan.
The Warlord didn't hear, couldn't hear for the roaring of the raging anger within him. He hurled Daniel from him, knocked Dion away. Sagan's strong hands took firm hold of the old man's frail neck, twisted, jerked.
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