Shadow Hunters

by Christie Golden

  Jake reached out to try to touch their minds, but they were shuttered to him. Through the circle of pro-toss that protected him, he stared at the others, their faces composed, their minds unavailable to him, and wondered if they would even give him a chance to explain things.

  One of them stepped forward. “Alzadar, it is good to see you alive and well. And you have brought us the preserver. The Xava’tor will be pleased.”

  Before Jake could even form a coherent thought, Alzadar had stepped away from the other protoss and stood before his leader. He was tall and straight, his head high, and Jake realized that even if he hadn’t known Alzadar had been a templar, he would have pegged him as one.

  “I am alive, but not well, Felanis. For I have beheld the atrocities committed by the one we call a benefactor.”

  Jake’s mind was suddenly filled with the images they had recently seen—the mysterious tanks in the crystal chamber, the desiccated corpses of former Tal’darim. He realized what Alzadar had done—shared that image with the rest of the Forged. Some of them still guarded their reactions, foremost among them the seemingly implacable Felanis. Others seemed stunned, and he realized that even the Xava’kai hadn’t known the end results of their labor on the Xava’tor’s behalf.

  Alzadar suddenly stumbled back, reeling as if from a physical blow. “You—knew,” he said. “Felanis—you knew all along what Ulrezaj was!”

  Some of the Forged shifted uneasily, while others ducked back, literally recoiling in horror. So unsettled were they that they broadcast their thoughts rather than directing them privately.

  “These images that Alzadar shows us … it is true then?” one of them cried.

  “An archon comprised of the souls of dark templar? Those we shunned and cast out?”

  Jake wondered if the betrayed Forged would turn on their leader. Felanis appeared completely unconcerned. He drew himself up to his full height. Jake felt dwarfed by him, and even the other protoss standing beside him, all except Alzadar, looked diminished. When he spoke, he addressed not those who had asked the questions, but Alzadar himself.

  “Ulrezaj is not a monster, but a demigod. He offered me the power to save myself and those who followed me. Who followed him, who understood his vision and believed in it. Ulrezaj and the being he serves are stronger than you can possibly imagine.”

  “Whoa, whoa—Ulrezaj has a boss?” exclaimed Rosemary, looking alarmed.

  “The Sundrop has made us slaves to the very worst the dark templar represent!” Alzadar cried. “And I will not turn over a preserver to him—or to you!”

  In his mind, Jake heard the silent command: Go. Many of them are as stunned and sickened as I am. I will do all I can to convince them to turn on Felanis. I will hold them off—for as long as I may. Get Zamara to safety.

  Jacob, there is another way out—let me lead! And to everyone else, she sent, Behind us—we will retreat. Half of you stay here and assist Alzadar. He has earned our aid.

  Zamara surged into Jake’s mind. As if the movements were choreographed, half of the Shel’na Kryhas whirled around and, using only their powerful bodies, attacked the startled Forged, who initially seemed too stunned to block their passage. Jake and Rosemary followed as they fled back the way they had come, racing through rooms that no longer appeared enticingly mysterious or beautiful but now seemed like an elaborately laid trap. Explorer though he was, he’d seen enough of this place. He’d seen too much of it. All he wanted to do was jump into the small protoss ship, take off, land at the warp gate, and head to Shakuras. The horrible, otherworldly wailing sound continued, and Jake’s head throbbed to its beat. Oh, God, it hurt.

  They were pursued. More protoss dropped back to fight the Forged, buying Jake and Rosemary precious time. Jake was in good shape, but the protoss were faster, and it both moved and irritated him that they slowed their pace so some could bring up the rear. Rosemary was running flat out, her rifle clutched in her hands. He took the stairs two at a time, following Ladranix as they raced toward the surface, to the little ship that was—

  —melted.

  Jake almost slammed into Ladranix as he stumbled to a halt, peering past the suddenly still protoss to stare, disbelieving, at the pile of steaming metal and ichor that had once been a protoss ship.

  Jacob!

  Jake tore his eyes from the vessel to see what the protoss saw. Dozens—no, hundreds—of zerg covered the area. They were frighteningly silent; silent, so that no one could have heard them from down below and been warned to their presence.

  Numbly, Jake’s eyes roved over the carpet of insectoid, monstrously quiet forms. They stared back at him with soulless black eyes, some with more than two in what passed for heads. Antennae and multiple limbs waved as the zerg waited.

  They were beasts brought to heel, dogs obeying a master. Yet that wasn’t right; they hadn’t been much more than wandering creatures, now and then turning on the protoss, more for sport than anything else. But not anymore.

  Which meant that they were being controlled and directed. But who—

  “Oh, damn it to hell,” snapped Rosemary, breaking the awful stillness. “You again. Thought I’d killed you, you bastard.”

  “And hello to you too, Trouble,” came a smooth, rich, cultured voice. A voice Jake had thought forever silenced. He turned from the zerg to stare at their master.

  Ethan Stewart.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  IT WAS—AND YET IT WASN’T—ETHAN. THE FORM that stood before Jake bore Ethan’s features, but in every other respect he looked more kin to the creatures he commanded. Jake felt the blood drain from his face as he realized that Ethan must have somehow been infested, and yet not been completely subverted. His skin was gray-green, his head bald and smooth, and he had two too many arms. The extra appendages culminated in scythelike blades that twitched as if itching for something to slice in half.

  Ethan threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve led us on a merry chase, both of you,” he said. Jake could hardly believe that ice-cream-smooth voice was issuing from that being. It seemed more wrong than Ethan’s extra limbs or green skin or—yeah, those were scales down his back, Jake was pretty sure.

  “ ‘Us’?” Rosemary challenged. Her rifle was up and trained on him. “And don’t worry, this time I won’t stop firing until I’m sure you’re dead.”

  “Us,” Ethan confirmed. “My queen and myself. She’s very anxious to make your acquaintance. Both of you. She sent me to come fetch you and bring her before you.”

  The guy’s in love, Jake realized with a sick jolt. There was something in Ethan’s voice, a slight catch—Jake knew a smitten man when he heard him. Stewart had never spoken in that tone of voice about or to Rosemary.

  “But don’t worry, Trouble. Despite the fact that you tried to murder me, and although my heart now belongs to her, I made her promise to leave you out of this. That is, if the professor cooperates.”

  The mutated but still oddly handsome—still oddly human—face turned to Jake. “How about it, Professor? I’ll spare Rosemary and all your little protoss friends if you come along without a fight.”

  To his surprise, Jake found himself laughing. “I don’t know who this queen of yours is, but anything that controls the zerg, or frankly, you, I don’t trust as far as I can throw.”

  It was what the protoss had been waiting for—Jake’s answer. He saw them ready themselves for combat, dropping into battle position, bringing weapons up, and then waiting, motionless, for the moment to explode into deadly, beautiful motion.

  Jacob … you will not win this one. There are hundreds of zerg.

  I know. He was surprised at how calm he felt. And I know what you have to do. I only wish I knew what this secret was.

  I am sorry it must end so. I know this queen he speaks of, and she will use my knowledge to her own ends.

  Jake lifted his weapon, a single pistol. It seemed so pitifully, pathetically tiny. But it was all he had. Do what you have to do, Zamara. I’m ready.


  At that moment, several dozen zerg exploded. A horrible stench of ichor and feces filled the air, and liquids and soft pulpy bits rained down on them. Jake instinctively ducked and covered his head.

  “What the—” His first thought was that somehow Those Who Endure had rounded up more ships, but when he risked a quick glance skyward he recognized the vessels as Dominion. Even as he put two and two together, he heard a voice inside his head. After speaking telepathically with protoss for so long, this contact seemed graceless and labored.

  My name is Devon Starke. I work for Valerian. We’ve come to help you.

  Help me? Valerian was going to kill me!

  That was a dreadful misunderstanding. His Excellency knew nothing about your captivity until the Gray Tiger was discovered adrift in space, its crew dead.

  In the Khala, Jake knew, no one could lie. But even among the protoss, one could lie with thoughts. And humans certainly could. Jake thought an angry, ancient Anglo-Saxon word and lifted his pistol. Rosemary and the other protoss were already attacking the zerg. Ethan had been completely distracted by the abrupt appearance of the Dominion vessels, and all was chaos.

  I understand your doubt, but would you rather die at the hands of the zerg? You know that is the only other possible outcome. Let us send you a ship.

  Jacob. Zamara’s thoughts overrode Starke’s. Tell him you agree.

  What?

  Do it! Tell him to send a vessel large enough for all of us. Don’t waste time negotiating anything else. Trust me!

  Jake did trust Zamara, even though she had hijacked his brain and body, even though what she was doing to him was likely going to kill him. The protoss were the most honorable people he had ever known, and Zamara’s integrity shone like a beacon. He sensed that she knew exactly what she was doing. And so he obeyed.

  All right. Send down a ship that’s big enough for me and the protoss. We’re all getting out of here alive.

  Done. We will clear an area for the ship to land.

  Starke kept his word on that, at least. The strafing attacks narrowed to a small area, and within seconds a landing strip was created.

  If it were not for the distraction caused by the terran ships, Jake mused, his friends would all be dead by this point and he would be in the tender-loving care of Ethan Stewart and his zerg pets. Even as it was, they were having a tough time holding off the waves that came at them. After his halfhearted attempt to get Jake to submit without a fight, Ethan was nowhere to be seen, and even as she fired, Rosemary muttered curses against her former lover.

  There were several bright glints in the sky, denoting ships taking the battle off-planet. Two of the glints grew brighter and larger and, sure enough, a battle-cruiser and a dropship came into view, surrounded by fighters, which took most of the damage. The battle-cruiser landed first, disgorging its contents of siege tanks and marines in full combat gear. The dropship followed. Slowly, it settled down on the uneven, rocky soil. The door slid open and more marines spilled out, firing as they came. The air was filled with the outraged shrieks and squeals of dying zerg and the rat-a-tat sounds of automatic weapons fire.

  “Let’s go!” Jake yelled. “Everyone in!”

  Firing as they went, Jake, Rosemary, and the pro-toss raced for the vessel. Jake had no idea what Zamara’s plan was, but she clearly had one. Did she truly think Valerian could be trusted? Was the whole thing really just, as the telepath who had to be a ghost had whispered in his thoughts, a misunderstanding?

  Jake darted inside and swore silently. The ship was indeed large enough to accommodate all the protoss, but only just. They crowded in, pressing in close, packed so tightly they could barely breathe. Flattened against a wall, Jake waited for the plan to reveal itself. A second later, it did. The instant after the last protoss had wedged himself into the dropship, Rosemary hit a control and the doors slammed shut. The pilot glanced back, frowning, and was about to make some kind of protest when his face impacted with the butt end of Rosemary’s rifle. Jake winced as the man’s nose crunched under the metal and he toppled out of his seat. He could not get used to this violence. But even so, he was proud of Rosemary for not simply shooting the pilot. Perhaps she was mellowing.

  She grabbed the unconscious man by the shirt, hauled him off, and slid into the seat. “Hang on, everyone,” she yelled. The ship took off. Jake grabbed onto the back of a seat; Rosemary’s liftoff wasn’t the smoothest he’d seen from her.

  “It’ll take ’em a couple of minutes to figure out we’ve hijacked the ship, and until then I’m playing along. But once they catch on … well, you better hang on.”

  It was one of the most incongruous things Jake had ever seen—eighteen protoss completely out of their element, crammed into the terran space vessel. They looked sorely out of place, like a crystal on a junk heap.

  “We got company,” Rosemary said. “That was fast. Valerian doesn’t want to lose you again, Professor.” Jake peered at the console. Sure enough, already six Wraiths had floated in to virtually enclose them—on each side, in front of and behind them, and one below and above them.

  “Hang on,” Rosemary said, and two seconds later Jake and the protoss were tossed about as she forcefully slammed into the Wraith on their left.

  “Rosemary, what—” Anything else Jake might have said was silenced as she again rammed one of the small, one-man fighters.

  Professor Ramsey, what are you doing? Devon Starke again, in his brain. Cease this attack at once! Rosemary Dahl will listen to you!

  Jake effortlessly erected a barrier around his thoughts so that the mental conversation went one way and yelled to Rosemary, “They know it’s you.”

  “Good” was her response, followed by another ramming of a Wraith.

  This must cease or we will be forced to open fire.

  When he relayed this to Rosemary, she shot back, “They might fire on us, but they won’t try to kill us. Both Valerian and Ethan want you alive. You’re too precious to risk serious injury to. Dropships can take whatever they throw at us, and their Wraiths are getting the worse end of the deal right now.”

  Wham. Jake’s teeth rattled in his skull as Rosemary sought to prove her point. Then the dropship rocked violently and he realized that Devon was as good as his word. They were indeed being fired upon.

  Professor, please—we truly have no wish to harm you in any way. But you cannot be permitted to elude us again. As a scientist, surely you understand what is at stake!

  It was Devon and Valerian who didn’t understand. Jake’s own life was what was at stake. That and some profound, universe-rattling secret that Zamara had yet to let him in on. Both were more important to him than satisfying the idle curiosity of an emperor’s son.

  The attacks increased. Smoke started to seep into the cabin, and Jake and Rosemary coughed. “We’re almost there,” Rosemary said, her voice raw from coughing, her eyes watering from the acrid smoke. “Which is good, ’cause this thing won’t hold out much longer.”

  Another shot and the dropship listed badly. Jake wasn’t sure he could hold out much longer either.

  His queen was not pleased. Her anger seared Ethan as, through the eyes of her consort, she watched her quarry escape. Neither he nor she cared about the dozens of zerg who were reduced to stains on the Aiur landscape, blown to bits, impaled by steel spikes, or burnt to crisp, smoking corpses. Her supply of zerg was infinite.

  Her patience was not.

  “How did Valerian find them?”

  “My queen, I know not,” Ethan said. “But Ramsey shall not escape me a third time.” They were desperate words, but they were the only ones he could muster. If Jake Ramsey and Rosemary Dahl had allied with the Dominion after all, despite everything they had seen from Valerian, then there would in truth be little Ethan could do to recover the archeologist. He had traveled here as the other zerg did, safely inside an overlord, having no need of the technological assistance of a ship despite the ability to operate one. Now he cast about desperately for a way to follow
and stop Jake’s escape. A swift mental command brought a mutalisk hastening toward him, and with the grace granted him by an extra set of limbs and his vastly increased strength, Ethan climbed swiftly atop it. It and its companions rose into the air, hell-bent on destroying the ships that were escorting the dropship that contained his queen’s desire.

  And then he laughed aloud as the dropship slammed into the Wraith next to it.

  “Ah, Trouble,” he said, his voice nostalgic. He should have known better. Jake and Rosemary were not going with Valerian. They’d tricked the young Heir Apparent, and were heading toward the only place on the planet where they could possibly make an escape: the warp gate.

  He directed his creatures there, and secured his grip on the mutalisk as he flew to join them.

  “Okay, here we—wow.” Rosemary’s voice was subdued. “Looks like the zerg beat us here. Some of them, anyway.”

  Jake strained to see. From his position, he couldn’t see much, so he brushed Rosemary’s mind and saw what she had seen. A battle had been fought here four years ago, almost the same one that would be fought now—escaping protoss against determined, directed zerg. The debris of that battle was everywhere, but at some point, either then or in the last few hours, the protoss had used their own fallen vessels and even zerg corpses as bulwarks. The area around the warp gate was now at least somewhat defensible, but Jake saw with a wrench in his gut that many of Those Who Endure had fallen while awaiting his and Zamara’s arrival. Few were left, and more and more zerg were coming.

  My heart aches too for my fallen brethren, Zamara said, but far, far worse than this awaits if my mission fails, Jacob.

  While the dropship had plenty of armor, which had kept them safe thus far, it had no weapons. Other than whatever handheld weapons were in the lockers, they were bringing the embattled Shel’na Kryhas no new ways to hold back the increasing tide of zerg.