Shadow Hunters

by Christie Golden

  And now, when they needed someone to go scout out to make sure it was safe, they’d turned to the one person who wouldn’t screw it up. Rosemary Dahl.

  Because she wasn’t stupid, she also realized that she was the one person they all thought was expendable at this point. And she could live with that. She also was well aware that no one liked her, and that bothered her not at all. At least … it didn’t use to. Recently, though, she found herself enjoying the moments when she and Jake got along. She wasn’t trusted by him or Zamara or any of the other protoss, and she understood why. But they all had the same agenda now—get off the planet. They could trust her for that, and right now, that was all that mattered.

  She tried to remember everything Jake had told her about this place. As he’d said, the walls were smooth at first, as she had started to descend. Too, once the natural light from the entrance began to fade, other light—crystals embedded in the walls—provided gentle but serviceable illumination. She noticed that the texture of the walls changed the deeper she went, and spared a quick glance to look at the colors as they appeared to her in the faint light of the glowing crystals. Black and silver and gray, with threads of something that looked like veins running through them.

  The temperature dropped as Rosemary went deeper into the earth. She paused at one point and strained to listen. She could hear it now, the faint pulsating sound. Her lips curved in a smile. It was like a heartbeat, just like Jake had described. No wonder Temlaa and Savassan had been rattled when they heard it.

  The stairway turned and abruptly Rosemary found herself staring down into darkness. There were no more crystals to provide light after this point. Air swirled up from the huge cavern she couldn’t see, but knew waited below.

  Rosemary reached the end of the stairway and fished out the Pig, checking to see if she was still as alone as she thought. Perfect. From what Jake had said, once she entered the rooms down here, lights would come up and she would, for all intents and purposes, shout her presence to anyone nearby. She dropped the Pig back into her pocket and stepped forward.

  Sure enough, up came the lights, glowing a soft white in contrast to the more tinted, gemlike hues that had provided illumination on the way in. The area the light displayed to her was even bigger than she’d thought. She took it in with a practiced eye: flat, clearly artificially leveled floor, a ceiling inlaid with gems that provided the light, all perfectly preserved.

  Jake would have a field day.

  She looked at a rectangle of gems on a stone pillar, and knew that if she touched them in that Golden Mean order Jake was so fascinated with a door would appear on the far wall. When Temlaa had touched the gems so, long ago, a platform had emerged. A platform upon which had lain six desiccated protoss bodies. The sight had given poor Temlaa a bad scare. Idly, Rosemary wondered if they were still there. But she had no real interest; she was here to see if the Tal’darim had penetrated this far into the chambers.

  Rosemary looked at the map and nodded. There were the five oval doorways in the walls, just as Jake had drawn them, that led out into five different directions. She put her finger on the map over the door Temlaa had chosen as the one that best fit the Golden Mean ratio. She walked forward, and then paused. A slow smile spread over her face.

  On the wall next to the door was a small black mark.

  Despite herself, Rosemary felt a shiver as she lifted a hand to touch the mark that Temlaa had made, some two thousand years ago. In this place where there was no weathering, no water or wind or oils from human or protoss flesh to erase it, the charcoal mark had stayed in almost perfect condition. She was suddenly very sorry that she had seen this first, not Jake. She shook off the unusually soft sentiment and stepped into the corridor.

  This place was much, much larger than it had seemed. Would she even get anywhere near the chamber they sought? She wished she had a vulture hoverbike right about now, but she supposed the walk would do her good. If she didn’t get far enough in a single twenty-four-hour mission to learn anything useful, well, she’d have to come back. It certainly seemed as though it was going well. Ladranix had assured them that there were no protoss or zerg spying on them, and she believed him. The Tal’darim could mask their thoughts, but little red dots on the Pig’s small but accurate computer screen were good old-fashioned hard technology and so far Rosemary had seen none of those. So far.

  Not for the first time, she wondered if as she saw, she was also being seen. She’d asked that question, if there was any comparable protoss technology that would expose her. Ladranix had assured her that such a thing was not necessary, at least not short-range.

  “We can sense another’s presence, as you know,” he said, sounding confused.

  “Yeah, but you also said that these guys are shielding their thoughts from you. And that sounds like something protoss have been able to do for a while,” Rosemary replied.

  “True,” Ladranix admitted. “But never for stealth, not from each other. We are all touching one another to some degree in the Khala.”

  Jake had seemed a bit troubled and followed up on Rosemary’s point. “When I was reliving the memories of Temlaa, that’s how they were able to sneak up on each other to attack. The attackers would shield their thoughts and presence.”

  “And now, what goes around comes around,” Rosemary said. “You’re right back where you started.”

  “Rosemary—” Jake said warningly.

  Ladranix had lifted a hand. “She is correct. Now, since the fall of our world, we have again turned against one another. Or rather, the Tal’darim have turned against us. We do shield our thoughts, to protect ourselves. For they will attack us. But this happened recently. Before the warp gate was shut down, there was no need to hide ourselves from one another. So therefore, no technology was created to overcome such an obstacle.”

  It made sense to Rosemary. She was a very practical woman, and this all sounded practical to her.

  But she was heading down into a place that was apparently crammed to the gills with ancient technology that was as advanced as it was forgotten. If the Tal’darim had been down here for a while, and it sounded like they had, might they not have uncovered some of the xel’naga secrets? No one seemed concerned about this but her. Well, she mused as she continued to move slowly inward to the heart of the place, that might be because she was the one putting her ass on the line.

  As she walked, constantly checking her map and the Pig to make sure she was not getting lost and not having company, she became increasingly grateful for the map. Wandering on her own would have been far too dangerous. Jake had told her the place was huge, but she hadn’t realized just how big. After several hours, she sat and ate some fruit and drank some water and rested for a while. She couldn’t risk sleep, and she’d stayed awake for longer than twenty-four hours at a stretch many, many times.

  Her constant companion on this exploration was the deep, thrumming heartbeat sound. She knew she was on the right track because with each turn she took, each corridor that led her inward and downward, the noise increased. That sound, and the marks that the protoss whose memories Jake now kept in his brain had made were her guideposts.

  Rosemary was mildly annoyed with Temlaa. The way Jake remembered it, it hadn’t taken all that long to get to the room where the crystal was. Maybe Jake didn’t get every memory of every second of every protoss’s life. Hell, she didn’t remember every second of her own life. Which was actually a blessing. Maybe it was just the important things Jake remembered. Or maybe the protoss moved faster. Also, she was coming in a different way than Temlaa and Savassan had. While she was obviously on the right track, it might take longer to reach the same place the protoss had.

  Regardless, she knew that several long hours had passed. She hoped she was getting close to the damned thing.

  Jake tried not to worry about Rosemary, and failed utterly. He told himself that she was about a thousand times tougher than he was, and was more than able to handle herself in any situation she might
encounter. She was also smart, and not likely to get herself into trouble. The word “trouble” reminded him of Ethan Stewart, who used to call her that, and he thought of what he’d last seen of Ethan, and told himself that Rosemary could defend herself very well, thank you very much, even if she did startle some of these Forged protoss.

  “If she’s found out—do you think they’ll kill her?” he asked Ladranix as they returned to the city.

  Ladranix hesitated, and Jake’s heart sank. “I do not know,” he said, and Jake knew he spoke the truth. “We would not, but we are not the Forged. Protoss do not kill protoss.” Unspoken were the words, But pro-toss might kill Rosemary.

  He couldn’t help it. He had to know. He took out the walkie-talkie and thumbed it. It would make no sound or light that might put Rosemary in danger; instead it would vibrate to let her know they were trying to get in touch with her. If it was safe, she’d reply.

  There was no response.

  Jacob—you must not make an assumption. Any number of things could be happening at this moment with Rosemary. She could not be in a safe place to respond, true. Or the device could have malfunctioned. Or perhaps there is interference from the technology below the surface. Any or these could be the reason she is not responding.

  I know, he said, and ran a hand through his hair. The worry was making his headache return. But … I’m going to worry about her until she gets back. That’s just how humans are, Zamara.

  So I am observing. I knew that I would have many experiences as a preserver. I never expected dwelling inside an alien body and mind to be among them.

  Some ride, huh?

  Her mental voice was hauntingly tender. It has been …“some ride,” as you put it, yes.

  I wish I could stop worrying about her. I wish—I wish I could stop caring about her.

  I cannot change these things, Jacob, nor would I attempt to even if I could. I have demanded and taken enough from you. I would not take that also.

  A sudden thought struck him. He’d wondered this before, but hadn’t let himself follow that line of thinking. Now, he did. Preservers have all the thoughts and feelings and memories of all protoss, right?

  Correct.

  And since I’m now a preserver—as much as a human can be—all my thoughts and feelings and memories…. oh boy.

  They will be added to the whole. Future generations will remember all of this.

  Jake turned a bright shade of red, and it wasn’t from the sunburn.

  You should not be unduly distressed. Future preservers will not probe for such base and common things as sexual desire or petty jealousies.

  Oh thank you, that makes me feel so much better.

  If it is any comfort, Jacob, what you will likely be preserved for are your moments of greatness and insight and heroism.

  That did make him feel a little bit better.

  Since I cannot alleviate your worry, perhaps I can distract you. You need to know what happened with Adun, and the renegade protoss who eventually became known as the dark templar.

  Zamara was right; it would do no good to worry. There was no way of knowing what was going on with Rosemary until he saw her again. It wouldn’t be that long, he told himself. And in the meantime, he would find out more about the protoss and their history, and that was always a worthwhile thing.

  The girl, shackled as if she were as dangerous as a trained templar fully equipped for battle, was brought before the high templar. A second meeting with her did nothing to convince Jake that the Conclave was correct in its desire to have her executed. This time, he shared thoughts with her, questioned her, and listened, as did the other templar. The unease grew inside him. Adun watched and observed the other templar as they, too, interrogated the girl—Raszagal was her name. Finally, she was led away, head still high.

  Adun spoke to his fellow templar. “Always, we templar have obeyed the will of the Conclave, for always, they have done what is right and just to protect us all. It is they who keep pure the tenets of the Khala, which has been and continues to be our salvation.”

  Jake said nothing, observing the other templar, listening quietly to their thoughts. They, too, wondered where this was leading.

  “They have found heretics, like Raszagal. They have asked us to hunt down the others, and execute them quietly, so that their very existence remains a secret. They fear that if word spread that there were those who rejected the Khala, it would lead to panic. And that panic might hurtle us back to another Aeon of Strife.”

  Everyone in the room reacted with instinctive dread. Adun continued. “They are right not to want to replay those dreadful times. They are right to want all to be in the Khala.”

  And then he hesitated. “But …protoss do not kill protoss. And if we go down this path … perhaps this is what will eventually lead to another Aeon of Strife. You have spoken with Raszagal. We will find others, and we will speak with them too before we summarily execute them. In my heart … Raszagal is not a threat. I have questioned her—extensively. Nothing in her desires revolution, or disharmony. She merely wishes to keep herself to herself. Is that worthy of death?”

  No one answered. Jake felt their indecision tear at him; felt his own indecision heavy in his soul. He liked Raszagal. He admired her. And Adun was right. She was no threat.

  “She is only one,” Jake said slowly. “She may not think like the others.”

  “What my old friend Vetraas says is true,” Adun replied. “And thus we must know more before we obey the Conclave. Or … before we do not.”

  Startlement rippled through the assembled templar. “You would disobey a direct order from the Conclave?”

  “I have always obeyed,” Adun said, and such was true. “Because always, they have acted with wisdom. But they are not Khas. They want to protect us, but they are also fearful of what Raszagal represents. I am a warrior, and proud to fight for my people. All of my people,” he said. “Perhaps you too now deem me a heretic. Who here, then, wishes the honor of slaying young Raszagal?”

  No one replied. No one wanted to be the first to walk down a path from which there was no turning back—slaying the blood of one of his own people for the first time since Khas brought the Khala to them and ended the slaughter.

  Adun nodded, slowly. “We will learn more.”

  Jake had expected that the heretics would come largely from one or two tribes, but he was wrong. According to the information given to them by the Conclave, members from several different tribes had quietly simply refused to join the Khala. And while the Khala was constant, one’s involvement in it did not need to be, and indeed, it would be difficult to live every moment in such a state of unity with others. But Jake and Adun went to be nourished by the rich contact many times each day and emerged refreshed and invigorated by this sacred, special immersion. So did the other templar, and the judicators, and many of the khalai.

  It would be easy to locate someone in the Khala. But how to find one who never came to this place for nourishment was the problem. The Conclave had a list, however, and quietly, with no fanfare, templar found and took prisoner those on the list. Each one they interviewed unsettled Jake, Adun, and the other templar further. For like Raszagal, they were calm and reasoned, and their arguments … had merit.

  But which course of action represented following the Khala—refraining from killing protoss whose hearts held no true threat, or exterminating those who did not wish to merge so deeply with others?

  Jake was glad the responsibility was Adun’s, not his. And after several days, Adun called them together.

  “I have reached a decision,” he said quietly. He looked at each of them in turn. “I will spare the prisoners.”

  A flicker of relief ran through those assembled, along with concern. Jake voiced what they were all thinking.

  “It is well that their blood is not on our hands, Executor. But I was there when you were given your orders. The Conclave believes it is right on this issue. They will insist on the deaths of these … these
‘dark templar.’”

  Adun had been looking at his hands. Now he lifted his glowing eyes to his old friend. “I have … an idea.”

  Rosemary decided it was time to risk contacting Jake and the others. She was feeling pretty confident that she wouldn’t run across any Tal’darim here. The place was enormous, Jake had told her. It was a veritable underground city, and it was fairly obvious that all the protoss were clustered in one spot. If this had been a forbidden area until recently, they were probably too frightened to do much exploring. She took out the walkie-talkie and thumbed it.

  “Yo, Professor,” she said quietly.

  There was no response. She frowned and checked it. It was definitely working, but something was preventing the signal from getting through. It figured. She sighed, replaced it in her small pack, and continued on.

  The heartbeat sound increased. After all this walking, she was finally getting close. She hurried forward, then broke into a quick trot, realizing that she was excited to see this thing of which Jake had spoken so raptly and a little annoyed at herself for being so excited. Through several more corridors, each marked by Temlaa’s ancient symbol. It was there, right there, and—

  They sprang up before her like living shadows, and as she skidded to a halt and drew out her rifle, she realized that she was surrounded.

  The psionic attack stabbed her like an ice pick driven through her brain, and Rosemary collapsed. She didn’t have time to fire even a single shot.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ROSEMARY AWOKE AND FOR A LONG, LONG moment thought she was still deep in the nightmare. The nightmare of searing pain, of a hunger that refused to be sated, of being helpless before both other people and her own cravings. Then she realized that the pain of a body twisted too long in an unnatural position and the itch of blood drying on her wrists and ankles were indeed very real.