“Can you heal it?”
Rayne nodded and concentrated on the wounds. When the pain faded, she regarded her lacerated legs and groaned, focussing on them. Her healing stemmed the blood and closed the cuts, but the wounds were still raw when she stopped and leant back, supporting herself on her hands.
“I’m too tired. My mind feels like a bloody wound. Using it hurts.”
“I’m not surprised.” He nodded at the Envoy. “How long before it wakes up?”
“I don’t know, nor do I care right now. I have to rest.”
“Not here. I’ll take you somewhere safe in a moment. Right now, you need your strength. Here.” He pulled a ration pack from his pocket. “Eat this.”
She gazed at it. “Too tired.”
He tore the seals to release an enticing aroma and held it under her nose. “I don’t want to have to make you eat it, Rayne.”
She smiled. “You would, too.”
“You’ve got a planet to save, and probably me too. I doubt the Envoy will let me live if you fail.”
Taking the ration pack with shaking hands, she broke off a piece and chewed it. The stimulant kept her awake, but the intense mental fatigue made her mind seem like it was stuffed with cotton wool. As soon as she had been released from the mental battle, the sharpened awareness and intense concentration was replaced by a dull emptiness in which her stray thoughts echoed like the cries of lost souls. Without the pain-pleasure filling it, her mind resembled a vast, empty dungeon.
Rayne noticed, with detached interest, Tarke’s torn armour and the blood seeping into his sleeve. He kept watch, but she knew nothing would attack them now. The Ship had withdrawn into its deepest crannies to nurse its mental wounds. The Envoy burnt with the soldiers’ venom and ached from her psychic poison. Neither was ready to start anything for a while. They needed rest as much as she did. Unfortunately, little advantage would be gained from this first confrontation, other than experience. By the time she had recovered sufficiently to fight again, so would the Envoy. He had suffered some permanent damage, but he was still a formidable enemy.
“Feeling better?”
Tarke’s voice brought her back to the present, and she was surprised that her hands were empty. “Yes.”
“Good. Let’s find somewhere to rest. Can you walk?”
“I hope so.”
Rayne climbed to her feet with his help, leaning on his arm. Tears stung her eyes, and she bit her lip, angry at her weakness.
The Shrike picked up his sword and headed for a tunnel. “Do you know where these lead?”
She shook her head, striving to hide her pain.
He cursed. “You’re being a bloody idiot.”
Tarke thrust his sword into its scabbard and picked her up. She clung to his neck, too tired to find his proximity disturbing, but touched by his kindness. He entered the tunnel and strode along it, soon finding a side tunnel that led to a chamber filled with the red light of blood beasts coming through a translucent wall. He placed her on the floor and examined her legs again. She hated the mask with renewed venom, and longed to tear it off.
“These wounds are still bad,” he said. “Can’t you heal them any better?”
“I’m too tired. When I’ve had some sleep, then I will. Are you all right?”
He shrugged. “I’ll live. Only a few scratches. Those warrior drones were easy to dispatch, but next time they won’t be.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re like white blood cells. When they fail, the Ship will make better ones, like antibodies.”
“Scrysalza’s on our side.”
Tarke inspected his tattered armour. “Maybe so, but it doesn’t control all of its functions, even some the Envoy hasn’t annexed. What would happen if I cut the tendrils that link him to the Ship? He would no longer be able to control it, and then it could kill him.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“I’ve survived so far, and protected you.”
She shook her head. “He wasn’t trying to kill me until the last few minutes of the battle, then he got too tired and gave up. Even with me and Scrysalza distracting and hurting him, you wouldn’t be able to cut those tendrils and protect me as well. If you went there alone, he’d kill you in a minute.”
He drew his sword and set it down, then unstrapped the fighting blade and sat next to her, leaning against the wall. “How do you plan to kill him?”
“With his pleasure. It sounds bizarre, but it’s the only way. I know how to do it now, and the Ship will help.”
“Just be careful you don’t end up a gibbering idiot.”
She smiled. “I haven’t yet.”
“If you can undo the stimulant, you should sleep.”
Rayne nodded. “So should you. The Ship will warn me of danger.”
“I’m okay.”
Rayne stretched out, wincing. The floor was hard, and she was tempted to use him as a pillow, but decided not to trespass any further on his reluctant tolerance. He retained his aloof air, and his mental shields did not spill an iota of emotion. She was glad of his presence, and looked up at him.
“Thank you for coming.”
His mask defied her, so she closed her eyes and surrendered to the powerful seduction of sleep’s dark arms.
Chapter Nine
Rayne woke with her head pillowed in Tarke’s lap, and sat up, her cheeks hot. “I’m sorry -”
“It was my idea. Relax, I don’t bite. You looked uncomfortable.”
“Thanks.” She pushed back her hair, which was stiff with dried slime. “How long did I sleep?”
“Quite a while. Feeling better?”
Rayne nodded. Her mind was still raw and hollow, but the emptiness had diminished somewhat and the fatigue was gone. He drew a flat flask from his pocket and offered it to her. The energy drink was warm, but sweet and refreshing. She handed it back half empty, and he tucked it away, then stood up and stretched. Rayne healed her legs and hands before she rose and joined him next to the transparent wall, where blood beasts swam past.
“Let me see your arm,” she said.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Those soldiers have poison. It might get infected.”
Tarke pulled open the rent in his sleeve, exposing a long shallow cut on his forearm. She clasped it and closed her eyes, sending her mind into his flesh. A few minutes later the cut was a pink scar, and as soon as she released him, he closed the tear.
“Thank you.”
“What about the wound you got on the Draycon ship?”
“That’s healed.”
She moved away. “I never got the chance to -”
“Let’s not get into a gratitude gala, okay? I helped you, you helped me. We’re quits. It’s water under the bridge, and when this is over you’ll never see me again.”
“Why?” she asked, dismayed.
“Why would you want to? Your Atlantean friends don’t approve of me, and I’ll have served my purpose. You’ve had your ship and your rescue; now you have protection while you win your battle. I seem to have little choice in the matter at the moment, but I hope that changes when this is over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Being your guardian is not something I volunteered for.” He faced the translucent wall. “Tallyn told me, and you seem to be right. For some reason I’m drawn into your problems, and I find myself getting you out of situations. I don’t know why, except I don’t want the damned Envoy attacking my planets when it’s done with Atlan. I don’t know if it’s fate, but I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“Let me answer the question you asked a minute ago,” she said. “I do want to see you when this is over. I’d like to help you to free slaves. I’d like to join your... whatever you call it, empire, organisation.”
“Why?”
“Why not? It’s a good cause, which appeals to me. When this is over, if I win, what else will I do?”
He turned to her. “You’ll be a celebrity on Atlan, paid
a fortune for interviews and public appearances. You’ll get rich opening hospitals and schools, having your picture taken with children and small fluffy animals. Why would you want to take up a life of anonymity and danger, chasing scum slavers and freeing pathetic, helpless beings?”
She hesitated. “As I said, it’s a worthy cause -”
“Don’t lie, Rayne.”
“I’m not! I like helping others.”
“You sound like a damned politician. There’s a big difference between helping little old ladies across the street and killing criminals. You hated it when I executed Jamdar, but he would have gone on selling people for food if I hadn’t. I don’t think you’ve got the stomach to do what I do.”
She pulled a face. “Maybe not that part, but I could do other things, like heal the slaves you rescue, help them to deal with what was done to them. Surely being an empath will make me better at that than most?”
“Yes, it would, but it will also expose you to the horrors that were perpetrated on those people. You’d be forced to share their pain; their humiliation and hatred; their despair. Many of them commit suicide after they’re freed, unable to cope with the horror of their past and losing their families. Why would you want to do that when you could be feted and pampered on Atlan?”
“Because it’s for a good cause, to help slaves.”
He shook his head. “When you think up a better reason than that, let me know. Until then, the answer’s no.”
“What do you want me to say, that I want to be your friend? That I want to help you, and get to know you better? Is that what you want to hear?”
“Only if it’s true.”
Her breath caught. “And would you let me stay with you then?”
“No. It’s not a good enough reason.” His voice was almost a caress. “You don’t belong in my world. Stay in your own.”
“Mine’s dead,” she retorted. “I don’t belong anywhere.”
“You’ll find somewhere.”
“I’m trying, but the door’s just been slammed in my face.”
He sighed, turning away. “Let’s not argue about this, please. What’s happening with the Envoy? I’d like to get this over with.”
“He’s still dormant. He might stay that way for a while. You can never tell.”
“We can’t keep heading for Atlan. Tallyn will panic soon and attack the Ship. Can’t you tell it to turn away?”
Rayne closed her eyes, searching for Scrysalza’s presence. The Ship was still resting, and responded vaguely, as one who has just woken would. It accepted her concern and agreed to do something, although it did not specify what. A few moments later she sensed the twisting of space and time as the Ship sank into the third dimension.
Tarke asked, “It’s gone into the void dimension, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So if it dies in this final battle, we’re doomed.”
She was shocked. “Scrysalza’s not going to die.”
“Did you see what happened in there? This creature isn’t as strong as you seem to think. It may be huge, but it’s got a delicate constitution. The Envoy might take it with him.”
Rayne opened her mouth to refute this when Scrysalza’s gentle voice spoke in her mind. It agreed with the man-thing’s words. The Envoy could kill it quite easily. The only reason he did not was because he needed it to survive. If he sensed his impending death, however, he could doom the Ship as well. It assured her that it would have several minutes, while it was dying, to rise back into the second dimension and send them back to their metal shells. It would do this for their friendship’s sake, because she had tried to help it. It knew the risks involved, but still wanted to take the chance.
Scrysalza had seen how she was able to hurt the parasite, and that had given it the courage to join the fight. It promised to do everything to help her, and it would not let her die if it did. It was sorry for its previous cowardice, but even death, it explained, was better than suffering the Envoy’s domination. It would have chosen death before, except the parasite would not let it die. He controlled so many of its functions that even that simple wish was denied it. When its gentle mental touch faded, Rayne’s cheeks were wet with tears, and she wiped them.
“You’re right,” she said. “It might die. But it says it won’t let us be trapped here. It will send us back before it dies.”
Tarke studied the wall again. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Rayne nodded and wandered over to the side of the chamber to settle on the floor.
Tarke came and sat beside her. “Can you wake the Envoy up?”
“I’m not sure I want to. I need more time.”
“Maybe I could do some damage while he’s asleep.”
“No. Don’t try. He wakes up very quickly.”
Tarke sighed and leant against the wall, resting his head on it. “How did you get those cuts on your hands?”
“I… Scrysalza gave me a crystal weapon, but it was sharp.”
“How did it make a weapon?”
“I don’t know. It just appeared through the roof, and I grabbed it.”
He turned his head towards her, and again she cursed the mask. “Could it stab the Envoy with something like that, if it thrust up through the floor? Don’t forget, this entire world is the Ship. It controls every part of it.”
Scrysalza’s mind touched hers, imparting a brief thought, which she put into words. “The Envoy would kill it if it did that.”
“Okay, then how can we stop the Envoy killing it?”
You would have to sever the link, Scrysalza’s reply came in her mind, and she asked out loud, “What link?”
Tarke started to ask what she was talking about, and she held up a hand as she listened to the Ship’s reply. The link between him and me, it said. A tendril grows into my brain, through which he controls me.
Rayne asked, “Can you show us which one it is?”
“Presumably you’re talking to the ship,” Tarke murmured.
It could, Scrysalza said, but cutting it would not be easy. In fact, it would be dangerous, for the Envoy might kill it when they tried to cut the link. She explained this to Tarke, admonishing him, “If you didn’t have such iron-clad mental blocks, you could talk to it yourself.”
“Those mental blocks saved me from a descent into idiocy while you were embroiled in your empathic battle with the Envoy,” he pointed out.
“I know, but you can relax now.”
“I never relax.” He paused. “It does sound risky, cutting this link, but if all else fails, it might be a way to save the ship. I’d like to know which one it is, in any case.”
Rayne nodded, and Scrysalza agreed to show them when they returned to the Envoy’s chamber. It, like Rayne, wanted a longer rest before facing the Envoy again, so Tarke was forced to wait. He did so with ill-concealed impatience, and she wondered at his restlessness.
Ignoring his fidgeting, she stretched out and dozed, waking refreshed, but hungry. Tarke had no more food, since he had not planned on staying on the ship for long. By now, he was hungry too. He faced the swimming blood beasts, and she guessed that he gazed at them with the intensity of a bored man watching fish in a tank. His sword and the fighting blade lay against the wall. She picked up the heavy, but well-balanced sword.
“Where did you get this?”
He turned to see what she was talking about. “On a distant planet, a long time ago.”
“That tells me a lot.” She admired the intricately designed hilt. “It’s beautiful.”
“It was made by a master sword smith, the last of his breed. It was also his last sword.”
“Why did you buy it? It’s a bit out-dated, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t buy it. It was given to me, and I make it a hobby to study and master most weapons. A sword is an old and well-proven weapon. It has its uses, like this situation. Your guide, Endrix, told me lasers are useless against the Envoy, so I brought that.”
“Endrix spoke to yo
u?”
He nodded. “Just before the ship transferred me here. He warned me about what was going to happen and told me what to bring. Otherwise I would have arrived with just a laser, which would have been useless, according to him.”
She put the sword down and picked up the fighting blade. “And this?”
“I won it from a group of aliens who challenged me to a duel. They believed their weapon was superior to a sword. I proved them wrong.”
“It seems ridiculous to use these against the Envoy. Like a mouse trying to kill a whale with a toothpick.”
He shrugged. “I’m not supposed to kill it, you are. If you think those weapons are ridiculous, I find the idea of your mind being a weapon pretty weird too. I’ve never heard of an empath killing anyone before, and you’re a healer too.” His voice softened. “In fact, I could never imagine you killing anything, but I know how you’re doing it.”
“It seems strange to me, too. But one creature’s food is another’s poison. That monster is vulnerable to the very thing he craves, the pleasure he gets from tormenting others. Using that against him is the only way to harm him.”
“But can you survive it?”
Rayne forced a smile. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Even if I die, it won’t matter as long as I win. But the glory the Atlanteans will offer me doesn’t really interest me. It would be nice to be rewarded by something I really want.”
“What’s that?”
“If I tell you, would you promise to give it to me?”
“It’s something I can give you?” He sounded surprised.
“Yes.”
“What?”
She sighed and looked away. “You’ll think I’m trying to blackmail you.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. You know I have to win this battle, no matter what. Saving all those people will be a handsome reward, but in time it will be forgotten, and I’ll never have what I really want. And if I die, I’ll have nothing, even if I win. But you could give me what I want now.”
He tilted his head. “So tell me what it is.”
Slave Empire - The Crystal Ship Page 14
