Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Hunger's Harmattan

by Unknown

  “Well,” Bakari said, settling into his chair. “Let me know when she’s finished and then send the pup to the gym. Give him a sword. We want to make it a fair fight.”

  Polemusa snorted. Like everyone else on the bridge, she knew there would never be a fair fight between a Fleet Command ensign and a full-fledged scythelord, but it didn’t matter. Felix Harmattan’s life was forfeit.

  * * * * *

  Elspeth fought tooth and nail but nothing she did seemed to faze the Amazeen. Wounds closed automatically and the younger woman inflicted just as much damage as her opponent but it took the older woman longer to heal.

  “You hurt him,” Shanee said, crouched over and circling her enemy. “You caused him so much pain all his life.”

  “I never wanted him,” Elspeth said. “Any of them.” She feigned grabbing Shanee’s leg then skipped away, out of reach as the Amazeen reached for her.

  “You signed his death warrant,” Shanee accused, a muscle grinding in her jaw.

  “Not once but twice,” Elspeth agreed with a grin. “And I agreed to have him tortured by Cean and her scientists.”

  Shanee knew the other woman was attempting to make her lose her concentration, to make her angry and thus allow her control to slip.

  “Didn’t work either time,” Shanee said with a snort. “He’s stronger than you could ever have imagined.”

  “Oh he’s dead by now,” Elspeth declared. “Felix would have seen to that.”

  “No way, old woman,” Shanee said. “He’s got a new queen.”

  Elspeth faltered. “That’s a lie!”

  Shanee didn’t know how she knew what was happening to her husband but she suspected it was because the fledgling queen growing inside her had come from Leveche’s queen and they were communicating in some fashion. She also knew Leveche would do whatever was needed to save Ailyn’s life.

  “He and I will be around when you are ashes floating in the wind,” Shanee said.

  With a furious snarl, Elspeth flung herself at Shanee, changing in mid-leap to her lupine form. She never heard the laugh that erupted from the Amazeen’s throat as Shanee threw her arms around the furry form and clasped it to her in a savage bear hug.

  Jaws snapping, fangs dripping, enraged howls and snarls issuing from her throat, Elspeth struggled to pierce her claws as forcefully as she could into Shanee’s shoulders. Her back legs raked at the younger woman’s thighs—drawing blood and shredding flesh—but still the deadly embrace kept Elspeth imprisoned. Her head was turned to the side and held taut against the Amazeen’s chest, Shanee’s arms crossed behind the older woman, her hands on Elspeth’s neck so she could not snare Shanee with her fangs.

  Shanee tightened her grip on the furry neck. She wanted to snap the wolf’s neck and knew she could. “Wait,” came the silent command from her hellion.

  Elspeth realized her strength was waning and she changed back to her human form, but the change wasn’t as quick as it should have been. She was still trapped in Shanee’s arms with her neck in a lethal grip.

  “Wait.”

  Shanee unlocked her arms and stepped back. She hurt in twenty places where claws had poked into her flesh but that didn’t matter. The wounds were healing quickly and the older woman in front of her was breathing heavily, panting, staggering backward.

  “Ailyn and I will be around when you are ashes floating in the wind,” Shanee said again.

  Elspeth leapt at her only to find her neck gripped fiercely between the younger woman’s hands. She raked her nails along the black silk clad arms of the female Reaper, tried kicking out at her, but the grip on her neck tightened until she saw stars. She gagged, her queen buckled beneath the skin of her back to cause hideous pain that weakened her further.

  “Now.”

  With a twist of her hands, Shanee broke Elspeth’s neck then stepped back to allow the body to fall. She drew her phospho gun and not even bothering with anything else, hit the direct discharge button, and simply turned the old woman into so much black dust. Though she was watching closer, the queen never tried to escape. It too was reduced to soot.

  * * * * *

  Leveche was in agony as his queen was pulled from his back and he lay there with his hands curled around the sides of the gurney. He was dragging in heated breaths as he watched the healer drop the queen into a large beaker then hurry to Ailyn to open the incision on the younger Reaper’s back.

  “Hurry,” Leveche warned. He could feel the life force leaving Ailyn.

  Incision made, the healer staggered back from the horrid stench that erupted from Ailyn’s body along with a copious amount of a putrid green jell-like substance.

  “Get it out of him,” Leveche said. His own strength was waning and he knew unconsciousness was but a heartbeat away as his nest took over closing his wound and electing a new hellion to control him.

  Scooping out the foul matter, suctioning the rest, the healer made quick work of cleaning the fetid debris from Ailyn’s back. As soon as he was sure he had almost all of it, he dropped Leveche’s queen onto the young man’s back.

  At first the queen balked—sensing the putrid death of one of Her kind. She sniffed at the wound, reared up like a cobra for a moment, hovering there with Her head bobbing back and forth.

  “Save him.”

  The queen snapped Her triangular head around and stared at the woman who had come into the room.

  “Please,” Shanee asked. “He is one of Yours.”

  Moving so fast no one saw it happened, the hellion wedged Herself into the wound and disappeared. The flesh of Ailyn’s back buckled in several places then subsided, accompanied by his low groan. Almost instantly, the incision closed up and sealed Her inside the Reaper.

  Shanee glanced over at Leveche and could tell he was out of it. His eyes were closed and one arm was hanging limply off the edge of the gurney on which he was lying. She walked over to him and gently picked his arm up to place it beside his head.

  “Are you all right?” Quinn asked, coming to her side to put an arm around her shoulders. He had seemingly dropped down out of the thin air. He looked down at her uniform that was ripped in places and was dark with expended blood.

  “I will be,” she said.

  He hugged her to him. “Did I tell you the Elfinish is expecting?” he asked.

  She nodded wearily, her head sagging to her chest.

  “Did I also tell you Munchkin wishes for you to be the Keeper of the Offspring?”

  Shanee lifted her head. “Are you just saying that, Phantom?” she asked.

  “No,” Quinn replied. “She and Dasher made the decision together. They feel you will make a good servant to the young one.”

  Giddy elation filled Shanee’s weary body and she hugged Quinn back. “I am honored,” she said. “I am so honored.”

  “Well, better you be the young one’s servant than Kenni and me,” he grumbled. “One Elfinish is one too many in my household sometimes.”

  “Boy or girl?” Bakari inquired as he joined them.

  “Munch says it will be a girl,” Quinn replied.

  “A female,” Shanee breathed. “Oh by the gods, I am doubly blessed.”

  “Blessed by what?” Polemusa asked. She was never too far from the ex-Burgon’s side.

  “Quinn’s Elfinish is pregnant and she is gracing me with her offspring,” Shanee said. “A female!”

  “Oh my,” Polemusa said. “That is indeed a blessing.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Quinn growled. “Whatta blessing.”

  “A name!” Polemusa said. “You must pick an appropriate name for a Worldly One.”

  “Gabrielle.”

  Everyone turned to find Ailyn’s eyes open. His voice had been weak when he spoke. “She’ll be Gabrielle,” he repeated, smiled tiredly and then fell into a painless, healing sleep.

  Shanee leaned over him and smoothed his tousled hair back from his forehead. “His body temperature is lower.”

  “We have Gabe to thank for that,”
Bakari stated.

  “Gabrielle,” Polemusa said. “Aye, and it is appropriate, I believe.”

  “He’s going to be fine,” the healer told Shanee as he looked up at the diagnostic panel. “His breathing is much easier and his heartbeat is stronger. The proof he is on the road to good health will come when he begins to urinate.”

  “We came to tell you that your mother will be leaving us on Breva’s ship,” Bakari said. “And I’ve a small matter to take care of in a few minutes.”

  “Why are you leaving, Mother?” Shanee asked. “I was hoping you would stay to help me care for Ailyn.”

  Polemusa lifted her chin. “It was reported to us that the identity of the second person who contracted for your death has been discovered,” she said. “I will be making a visit to that person.”

  “That’s my right,” Shanee said.

  “No,” her mother disagreed. “It is mine. The culprit is your Aunt Molpadia. I will call her out and we will end this feud between us. The Council of Elders will be shocked to learn what their domestic queen is capable of doing and will want to execute her but that is my right. She will die at my hand and no other’s.”

  “But why?” Shanee asked. “Why would she want me dead?”

  “To hurt me,” Polemusa answered. “It is my belief that during my grieving period, she would have struck to eliminate me. Alone, weaponless on the Plains of Memory, I would have been defenseless against her were she to come with Dóigra in hand. There is no honor in my sister and she brings disgrace to the Iphito name.”

  Shanee saw Bakari leaving. “You have my gratitude, Burgon,” she said.

  He waved a hand but did not turn around. He was anxious to remove the last obstacle to Ailyn Harmattan’s future happiness.

  “I’ll be leaving with Breva too,” Quinn told Shanee. “If you ever need me, you know where I am.”

  “I know you were going to stay here in Leveche’s stronghold,” her mother said. “But we don’t think that’s a good idea with Ailyn having been so close to death. You should go back to Riezell with the healer just in case.”

  Shanee’s shoulders slumped. “Aye, I think you’re right.” She looked up as her two Class 10s came lumbering into the sickbay. She gave the larger of the two an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Primä One,” she said. “I know you wanted to tear apart those Ceannus ’bots.”

  The Class 10 ’bot nodded. “Another time, milady,” it declared.

  “You may stand down,” she said. “I’m afraid you make him nervous.”

  Quinn snorted. “Them? They’re pussycats, aren’t you, Primä One?”

  “Unless we are rolling downhill, milord,” the ’bot said then chuckled, startling everyone in the room. It nodded again then pivoted around and with its partner close behind shuffled from the room.

  “Did you program those ’bots with humor?” Polemusa asked her daughter.

  “I’m trying to make them more Ailyn-friendly,” Shanee answered. “He is uneasy around them.”

  “That could be because Cean used them to torture him,” Quinn said. “Give him time, Shanee. He’ll come to like those ’bots as much as I do.”

  “Let’s get going, Phantom,” Polemusa said. “My sword hand is itching and you look as though you are having Elfinish withdrawal.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “Another Amazeen with a sense of humor? The gods preserve us! What is the megaverse coming to?”

  “Tell the Burgon I’ll be seeing him,” Polemusa said.

  “I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear that,” Leveche mumbled as he struggled to sit up on the gurney. “Steady as she goes, Rory.”

  Quinn saluted the Reaper then with Polemusa walking ahead of him, got into the elevator.

  “Are you okay?” Shanee asked.

  “I hurt like hell but that’s to be expected,” Leveche said. He slumped on the gurney. “Thought I could stand up but I’m thinking better of that notion.” He looked over at Ailyn. “How’s he doing?”

  “Healing,” Shanee told him. “Sleeping easily.”

  “Good,” Leveche said then heaved a long sigh. “I was worried.”

  “You should worry about the Burgon,” she said. “I believe my mother has him in her sights.”

  Leveche shrugged. “Won’t do her any good. Ry’s heart is well on the way to being claimed.”

  * * * * *

  Ryden Bakari sheathed his scythesword, took one last look at the body of the man he had executed then left the gymnasium, kicking at the black ashes that were sprinkled in his path. He went to his private quarters, locked the door then stripped out of his black uniform and climbed into a piping hot shower that washed away the day’s accumulation of death and destruction.

  He had no regrets about the deaths that had been dealt on his ship or those that had ended on the Ceannus LRC. He did regret however, not being able to take Perse Cean’s life himself. Her evil had deserved more pain, more retribution, than an instantaneous flash of fire and exploding body parts.

  Lowering his head, he let the water drum down on his tired muscles. Tomorrow, he would once more set out on his quest to find Riordan O’Shay and bring the bastard to justice. It was the one goal he had set for himself that he would follow until one of them was dead—and he had no intention of being the one to depart first.

  His thick salt-and-pepper hair clinging to the sides of his face, he straightened up and raked his hands through the soggy mass. The scar on the side of his face tingled as it usually did when his thoughts turned murderous. Vaguely he heard the vid-com chime on and turned to look out the glass side of the shower.

  “Burgon?”

  It was her sweet, melodic voice and he quickly reached for the shower handles to stop the water. With his heart in his throat, he opened the door and—not even thinking—hurried over to the screen.

  “Aye, dearling? Is something wrong?”

  Her brown eyes lowered and he realized he was standing before her stark naked.

  “Nothing is wrong. You are well, Sir?”

  “I am,” he said, and forced himself to stand still and not try to hide his bare body from her view. He wanted her to see him. He wanted her to know what he could offer her.

  She lifted her gaze and it seemed to burn into him as it wandered slowly over his flesh. She did not blush—she’d seen a man’s genitals before. Nor did she look away.

  “Will you be leaving tomorrow in search for your quarry?” she asked as she met his heated gaze.

  “Aye,” he replied, and felt his heart racing.

  “Then stay safe, milord, and hurry home,” she said. “May the Wind be at your back.”

  “And at yours, dearling,” he whispered.

  Then she was gone and the brightness and peace that was slowly filtering back into his dark world fled with her.

  Epilogue

  Shanee had come to the conclusion that all men were alike. None of them had ever outgrown his childhood and would revert to it at the most irritating times. Stubborn, obstinate, willful, inflexible—all were adjectives to describe a male’s inability to see reason.

  “Ailyn…” she warned, her head tilted to one side.

  “No.”

  “Ailyn…” she warned again.

  “No.”

  He was clinging to the bedpost and the thought went through her mind that she should tackle him, put his ass back in bed and tie him down, but the mulish pout on his lips was so comical she was having a hard time not laughing.

  “You are not supposed to be up,” she reminded him.

  “I have to pee, Shanee,” he complained.

  “I’ll hold the urinal…” she began, but he was thrashing his head back and forth in denial.

  “I want to pee in the toilet,” he said. “I will pee in the toilet and I’ll do it on my own. My piss is going in the toilet this time!”

  “Well, most of it anyway,” she mumbled. Like all women, she knew it was virtually impossible for a man to get all his urine in the toilet.

&nb
sp; “I am going into the bathroom,” he pronounced, and let go of the bedpost. He wobbled, staggered a bit but he managed to get into the bathroom without toppling over.

  Shanee had to be content to straighten his covers, fluff his pillow and wait for him to come out so she could wipe up the floor behind him. When he came back, he scrambled into the bed without being told to and turned over on his side.

  “I’m ready,” he said.

  She reached for the vac-syringe and quickly gave him his morning tenerse, wincing with him as the potent, fiery med coursed down the vein in his neck. She waited until he had turned over to his back and scooted up in the bed before adjusting the covers over him.

  “I am so fucking tired of lying in this bed,” he complained as he took the glass of Sustenance she had waiting for him.

  “Another few days according to Tariq’s instructions and you can be up and about,” she said. “Not today. Not tomorrow, but the day after.”

  She watched him silently mimicking her words before he drained the glass then held it out to her like the little boy of whom he so forcefully reminded her.

  “Did Primä One give you your tenerse?” he asked.

  “Primä Two did. I sent Primä One on an errand.”

  “Scaring the damned people in the neighborhood no doubt,” he grumbled.

  Her lips twitched but she made no comment to his moody remark.

  “Where are you going?” he asked as she turned to leave.

  “I have an appointment with General Strom,” she replied. “Primä Two will be here if you…”

  “I’m not talking to that ’bot,” he snapped. “You tell him to stay the hell away from me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you going to Command Central? What’s going on?”

  “I’m taking a few months leave,” she said.

  “You?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Why?”

  “So we can go back to Theristes for a while,” she replied. “I’d like to see Tariq and Bahiya, see how Jules is doing with his ’bot.”

  He seemed to relax. “Can’t you come lie down with me until I fall asleep?” he asked. The dose of tenerse also contained a bit of pairilis to help him rest. Already he was getting groggy.