“And I want my sister.”
The words fell between them. Several heartbeats of silence passed while they appraised each other.
Reya stated, “I am the Reeka leader.”
“When I was last conscious in this world, Karana was leader,” Ceri returned evenly.
“My mother is dead.” The chill crept back into Reya’s voice and eyes. “I and Tenia are now the leaders. Our word is law.”
The challenge was there between them. A Reeka leader talking to one of her subjects, a sister warrior and a follower.
Ceri leaned forward, her gaze locked on Reya. “Until three days ago, little cousin, I was an outlaw.”
“We were pardoned eleven years ago.”
“For me the outlaw years finished three days ago.”
A muscle ticked in Reya’s jaw. “You are a Reeka warrior, you have been pardoned. Do you doubt me as your leader, Ceri?”
“You are leader of the Reekas,” Ceri acknowledged. “But a lot of years separate us. I will not waste time going home. The trail to Rani will be cold by then—”
“We don’t know when Rani was taken. It could have been years ago.”
“I’m going back. I’m not waiting.”
The glitter of Reya’s ice green eyes was deadly, her voice a cold whip. “You will wait for me.”
Leaning back in the chair, Ceri shrugged. “Do you remember anything much of me, Reya?”
“Enough to know you were a thorn in my mother’s side.”
The woman didn’t pull punches. Ceri smiled slowly. Anyone who didn’t know Reya would have thought nothing changed in her expression or posture but Ceri knew the girl she’d once been, and that girl still gave away some indication of her emotions. Namely, the determined glint in her eyes. Apart from her mother, Reya had never backed down from anyone.
“I wasn’t one of the warriors known for always doing as she was ordered,” Ceri said mildly. “Especially if I didn’t think it was in my best interests.”
“But you always ended up obeying.” Reya’s ga"11 Reyaze watchful.
“I knew your mother.”
“Ceri,” Reya said softly. “Wait for me.”
“You are weeks away, cousin.”
“As your leader, I request you to wait.”
There it was between them. As your leader.
“If this was Tenia, what would you do?” Ceri queried.
Reya’s chin lifted, her eyes so cold now they were like pale green lakes of ice.
“I thought so,” Ceri said in satisfaction.
Reya looked at her for several long seconds, her gaze assessing, and Ceri returned it evenly. Oh yes, Reya was her mother’s daughter all right. She had the same steady regard, the same knack of appearing to see right into one’s soul. Only now she did it with a coldness that could send chills down a sister warrior’s spine.
“I understand how you feel,” Reya said quietly. “But we can help you.”
“I don’t want to wait any longer.”
“You’ve been imprisoned for fourteen years, what’s four more weeks? Nothing.”
“It’s four weeks closer to finding Rani.”
“If she can be found.”
“I will find her.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because I will find her.”
“Ceri, we can…”
Reya’s voice faded as Ceri became aware of something happening... inside her. Frowning slightly, she concentrated. Something cold was curling through her stomach, seeming to flow along her veins in a chill progression, moving slowly but surely through her middle.
The pain struck sudden, sharp and with deadly intent.
“Ah!” The cry broke abruptly from Ceri.
Dimly she heard Reya ask sharply, “What’s wrong?”
A cold claw felt as though it was ripping right through her. Something gripped her stomach and pulled, slicing through her flesh, and she doubled over in the chair, biting back the cry of pain that almost escaped her. She felt as though her intestines were twisting upon themselves, knotting and pulling tight.
Gripping the armrests she dug her nails in, biting her lip, holding back the cry of pain that threatened to break free.
“Ceri!” Reya’s voice was alarmed. “Ceri! Call for Abra! Abra! Damn it, where are you?”
The pain was excruciating. It knifed through her, ripping and tearing now as though whatever surged through her was seeking to get out... or seeking to get in.
In her head she heard Rani screaming, felt the fragments of thought, the fear, and the rage. Rani! God, where are you? Rani!
The pain ripped and tore, it felt like a clawed hand had hold of her heart and gripped it, squeezing and crushing, making the muscle shudder and her gasp for breath as agony shot through her chest and down her left arm.
The world went black before her eyes and from faraway she heard voices. Harsh voices, and roars, Abra’s voice, Vane asking something, a wet hissing that seeped through her mind and made her recoil.
~ * ~
Inner> Sanctum of the Outlaw Sector
Overlord’s Fortress
The pain was excruciating. It knifed through Rani, ripping and tearing now as though whatever surged through her was seeking to get out... or seeking to get in.
In her head she heard someone screaming. Ceri. Ceri was screaming. But then she couldn’t remember who Ceri was, only that she was so important to her and knowing she was in pain.
Ceri?
Who was Ceri?
Living and dying and being dragged back.
I don’t want to come back.
I shouldn’t be coming back!
I can’t be here!
Fragments of thought, the fear and the rage. Ceri! Ceri, I’m here! Help me! Oh God, help me!
The pain ripped and tore and it felt like a clawed hand had hold of her heart and gripped it, squeezing and crushing, making the muscle shudder and her gasp for breath as agony shot through her chest and down her left arm.
The world went orange before her eyes. Horned beasts too huge to comprehend, smaller shadows that flitted around the cell. Touches that were cruel yet tentative, gripping, smoothing, stroking. Seeking to calm her but enjoying her fear and fury, hellish beasts that roared and laughed, that lapped at her tears like thirsty hounds and lapped at her blood like hungry carrion eaters.
~ * ~
Bounty Hunters’ Ship
It was all mixed up, a jumble of noise and sensations, a rotting smell that assaulted her senses, a feel of decaying flesh, and something else...
Something else...
In the corner of the ship she saw a dark shape, dim, blurred, but there nonetheless.
Darknen...
The Darknen comes...
“The Darknen,” she gritted through clenched teeth.
“What?” A hard voice sounded near her ear. “Ceri, open your eyes. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“The Darknen.”
White hot agony jolted through her, throwing her backwards, and she barely felt the hands that caught her, the arms that supported her.
The agony was so intense she started to shiver, writhing to get away from it, twisting and turning, drawing her knees up to her chest before pushing to her hands and knees and trying to crawl away...
Crawl away from the pain. Crawl, crawl as fast as I can...
~ * ~
Inner Sanctum of the Outlaw Sector
Overlord’s Fortress
White-hot agony jolted through her, throwing her backwards, and she hit the hard rock floor.
The agony was so intense she started to shiver, writhing to get away from it, twisting and turning, drawing her knees up to her chest before pushing to her hands and knees and trying to crawl away...
g h
Crawl away from the pain. Crawl, crawl as fast as I can...
Rani tried to crawl away from the pain. Chains clinked and a clawed hand had hold of her shoulder, pulling her back...
Back...
&n
bsp; Back to the horror inside her...
I won’t go back! I won’t!
Someone in front of her blocked her desperate scuttle away. A hand laid upon her shoulder, replacing the clawed hand that slipped away.
Opening her eyes, she looked up through a curtain of wild hair. A hand pushed it aside gently, tucking the long, tangled strands behind her ears. The gentle hand belonged to the fair-haired man with the ruthless blue eyes.
“Warrior,” he said quietly, and she leaned into his hand as it cupped her burning cheek.
Help me. Help me. Please help me. I burn. I hurt. Help me!
“There is no escape,” he said. “Submit while you still can.”
No! No, no, no! Nooooooo!
She tried to lunge upright, her shattered soul shrieking and trying to hide from the orange claws that shredded through her protective aura, slicing and pulling, piercing the tiny, glowing pieces of soul that screamed and screamed...
...and screamed
...she screamed and screamed
...and it echoed and echoed...
And the darkness swallowed her.
~ * ~
“Maybe you should feed her,” Fredrico said, watching as the warrior stood unmoving in the cell.
Since the last attack she’d had, she hadn’t moved for several hours, her head bowed, her breathing slow but still ragged.
“No food until she submits.” Phemar’s voice held fury.
“She’s been here for days.” Fredrico slapped the electronic book reader into his palm several times. “How long can she last without food or water?” Hell, for that matter, she hadn’t relieved herself or anything. That wasn’t normal. But then again, what was normal in this place?
The Overlord brought his throne to a halt beside Fredrico. “Time is of the essence, Phemar. How long now?”
The sucking sound of Phemar’s breath sounded wetly. “I don’t know.”
The Overlord’s pupils dilated. “You do not know?”
Well, this should be interesting. Fredrico slanted a glance at Veknor who was watching the exchange closely from his normal position against the wall. As usual, the ebony space pirate gave not one thought away in his expression.
“She should have responded by now.” Walking forward, Phemar looked at the silent warrior. “Though her posture is more subdued.”
True, she didn’t shift an inch when Phemar moved closer, but Fredrico wouldn’t have trusted her that inch, either. Still, he wasn’t about to point anything out to the twisted dark mystic. It was his party and he wouldn’t appreciate anyone raining on it.
Phemar moved closer and the warrior didn’t move. Raising his hand he murmured something and she fell to her knees. A gurgle of laughter sounded from his ruined throat and he turned to face The Overlord. “I was right. It is working!”
“We have no time to waste.” The Overlord’s hand clenched around the sceptre on his lap. “Is she ready?”
Phemar turned and looked at the kneeling warrior. Her head was tilted down, the dark hair a twisted mass of tangles hiding her expression.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Slowly her head tipped up and she looked through the strands with dull eyes.
“Yessss.” Phemar’s hiss was triumphant. “She is ready. Biddable to our demands.”
“Then do it,” The Overlord ordered.
Turning back to her, Phemar raised both hands in the air and started chanting. Shadows flicked through the air, and one monstrous, barely-there outline of a horned beast stood in front of the warrior. Grabbing the chain that attached to the thick collar around her throat, he jerked her forward.
Fredrico felt a little twinge of regret when she walked without a sign of any of the previous fire. Reeka warriors were proud, but this one was damaged beyond repair. He just knew it and the knowledge was like ash upon his tongue.
The manacles on her wrists and ankles fell open and clattered to the floor with the chains. The shadow tugged the neck chain and she followed it mutely from the cell to the chamber below.
Phemar pointed to the end of the chamber and the beast dropped the chain onto the floor.
“Is that wise?” Veknor queried.
“She is going nowhere,” Phemar replied.
They all watched as the warrior stood still. Phemar gestured and the collar fell open and thumped to the floor.
Her eyes were so dull as she watched Phemar. Fredrico could have almost felt sorry for her but it had been a long time since he’d felt sorry even for himself. Some emotions were just better to be buried deep.
The fire in the middle of the chamber flared up, the tongues of flame licking hungrily at the ceiling before dying down to snap and crackle.
Drawing a dagger with a silver handle from his tattered robes, Phemar held it up and started chanting, the words indistinguishable but ugly, filling the air like a darkly-spreading blaspheme. The warrior didn’t appear focused on him but stared instead into the flames. Bright lights sparkled in her empty eyes, a reflection of the fire.
Leaning back against the table, Fredrico studied her anew. This was to be the answer The Overlord had waited for, for so long. And now she was here and it seemed, having fought her insanity and self-preservation to the limit, she was now a subdued puppet there to do his bidding.
It was almost a shame. But shame was something he’d learned to live with also, so he shook away the vague pity starting to rise away and refocused on the warrior.
And blinked.
Oh shit.
Her eyes weren’t unfocussed anymore. The glint in them wasn’t from the fire and she wasn’t subdued. In fact, she was watching the dark mystic as he stepped forward and reached out one rotting hand towards her.
Before Fredrico could shout a warning, the warrior sprang. With a snarl she grabbed the dark mystic’s wrist and twisted. The snap of bone rang through the chamber and Phemar howled, the dagger clattering to the floor.
The fire roared and dark shadows started to pour from it.
Fredrico and Veknor started forward but the shadows had substance and they were pushed aside as the dark shapes writhed towards the battling pair.
The warrior slammed Phemar to the floor, ignoring the shadowed claw that twined into her hair and sought to jerk her head back. Even as she ground her heel into the dark mystic’s back, she swung her arm around and her fingers sank into the darkness.
She couldn’t grab the shadows. The clawed arm disintegrated in her hand, flowing apart to reform a distance away before striking forward again.
Fredrico and Veknor gaped, and when she swung around to face The Overlord, they lunged in front of him protectively.
The warrior snarled and the glitter in her eyes was a cross between orange fire and green flame. Reaching down, she grabbed the dark mystic’s tattered robe, hauled him up and thrust him towards the men.
The dark mystic stumbled, caught by a shadow.
“Phemar!” The Overlord cursed. ‘Damn it, why is she still fighting? Why?”
Spitting obscenities, Phemar swung around and pointed his finger at the advancing warrior. “Die! Die!”
“No!” The Overlord rammed his throne forward, knocking Veknor from his path. “No! We need her! Phemar, no!”
“She is beyond saving.” Twin points of dark orange shone from the depths of Phemar’s hood.
The warrior ran forward, breaking through the dark shadows that sought to hold her back, causing the smoke tendrils to shred away from her. A beast started to form in the corner, substance coming to life through the darkness, and Fredrico cursed. He’d seen this happen before and the end result was always messy.
But he didn’t have time to think, all he could do was act. Protecting The Overlord was his job and he’d protect him to his last breath, which, going by the insane look in the warrior’s eyes, could happen very soon. She was unstoppable, though right at this point she was focused on Phemar.
The fire flared when Phemar thrust his hand up and just as the warrior jumped the
last few feet separating her from the dark mystic, the flames shot forward to create a living wall of flame.
She didn’t stop. Her insanity was so much, her hate for the dark mystic so deeply entrenched, that she flung herself into the fire to get to him on the other side.
The warrior was going to burn. Fredrico’s heart clenched with some unknown emotion. “No!”
The warrior didn’t appear through the other side of the fire. Instead, she was thrust backwards out of the hungrily licking flames. Instead of burning as he expected, she was surrounded by a white light. The light created its own wall, holding back the fire that sought to sear the flesh of the warrior who fell to one knee, her hands braced on the floor as she stared up uncomprehendingly at the white light and the fire beyond.
“What’s happening?” Veknor demanded, pushing to his feet.
“I don’t know,” Fredrico said, “but Phemar doesn’t look happy.”
The dark mystic, in fact, looked shocked. He stared at the warrior on the floor to the white light surrounding her. A soft, pale pink pulsed through the light and as they watched, the hate-filled features of the warrior, the snarling venom on her face, eased. Insanity still shone in her eyes but it was subdued, and then slowly her eyes drifted shut. Still kneeling, her head tippednbs head t forward and she was still.
The Overlord glanced around. Phemar screamed in frustration, backing away, sizzling bits of putrid flesh raining down around the tattered hem of his robe.
A fresh wash of air slid through the chamber, carrying upon it the scent of rain-laden air and fresh flowers. Fredrico gulped it in almost before he realized it, relishing the freshness.
“Beulah!” Phemar snarled. “I know you! You have no right here!”
The Overlord swung his head around, searching for the witch-woman, but the only thing to see was the white light surrounding the fallen warrior.
The shadows fell back from the light, crowding against the wall, some sliding up behind Phemar.
The pale pink pulsed, a calmness in the dark storm of madness that permeated the chamber. Slowly, in the midst of the light, a form took shape. White hair that flowed in a breeze of its own, an ageless face, and eyes as black as night with the stars of the universe in them. A slender figure in a shapeless gown that swept the floor.
Shattered Soul Page 9
