They squatted at the very edge of the forest, facing the barren perimeter with its ancient guns. They did not look ancient, just hulking and shadowy. Her Sight made out very few details since the guns were made of lifeless steel, but the ground stretching before them was littered with scarred soil and singed grass and trees. The path between the two machines was as clear to her as if a road had been laid.
“You are right,” Diana muttered, closing the tiny computer she’d been bent over for so long. “The path you traced is true — unless they’ve reprogrammed the thing in the last few hours.” That possibility, that Garrison had updated the firing program so the new tract was not yet visible, worried her. There had been sporadic firings of the laser. Elana had suffered from the death of the forest animals that got caught in the laser fire, but it meant that if the laser was activated the guard might assume it another animal caught.
“You know what to do?”
Elana nodded, turning the decoder over in her hand. “These points snap into the thick cylinder that climbs the base of the machine.”
“Just beneath the gun box.”
“You have shown me the place, Di’nay,” Elana gently reminded her. Elana slipped from her cloak and made certain her hair was securely braided. Concentrating, she drew air into her lungs and her skin began to brown. She had shed her pale tunic before they left camp; the black undergarments provided a better camouflage. Her Sight might have shadowed her run, but that would have divided her attention and slowed her. At times, Elana knew, it was much better to use common sense.
“It may take some time for the decoder to unlock the system,” Diana said, more for the sake of talking than for reminding. “It may be safer not to wait for it.”
Elana blinked and her breath exhaled with a faint whoosh; her skin was a deep mahogany almost invisible in this darkness. She looked at Diana and suggested, “Let us wait and see how passable this field is before I decide when to return?”
Not able to see each other in the dark, they touched hands briefly. Then Elana tucked the decoder into her belt and crept closer to the perimeter. Balanced on toes and fingers, timing her breathing, she traced her route ahead. Then she was gone.
Yellow-white flashed once as a gun fired. The tracking hum ran and clicked — on and off — each gun aborting as the figure skirted in and out of its limits.
Diana held her breath, her eyes glued to the metal boxes.
Almost — almost — her jaw clenched as the smallest of white lights appeared at the far gun’s side.
Roll! her mind cried as her lips pressed, muting her scream.
Like a wave’s push from behind Elana felt Di’nay’s command and dove. The electric eyes broke with a flying wisp of hair and the light licked out into nothing — safely hitting its receptor on the neighboring gun.
Elana lay still behind the machines, watching the light from that line of defense flicker and die. For a moment she remained frozen, counting her heartbeats — reassuring herself that she was alive. The thought echoed in her mind that Di’nay would not have made it. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, automatically tossing her hair over a shoulder. She felt the singed edges of a few strands. Di’nay had been wrong; this laser thing struck much faster than a snake.
There was still much to be done. Standing, she pulled out the decoder. Her side felt bruised from rolling on the metal box, but the decoder did not seem the worse for wear. She stood behind the gun, carefully examining the cables and moorings. It was slightly different from the one Di’nay had mentally shown her, but the primary cable was obvious enough.
Elana knelt peering at the seam where it joined the upper box. She fleetingly wished Di’nay could have shared more than mental images with her; she was acutely aware of what a mistake would mean. It was a bit late to change things, so she set the decoder against the cable, and with the flat of her hand, she hit it squarely. The small prongs penetrated the thin wrappings and held.
She looked at it uneasily, almost expecting it to explode or something, but the little box just sat there. Actually, it seemed quite at home beneath the bigger box, and Elana had a brief moment of satisfaction; even if Maltar’s men stared straight at it, they would probably never see it.
With a quick glance about her Elana stood up. She did not like this place and the longer she was here, the more distinctly she felt the danger. But there was only darkness and rock — and across the perimeter, trees and Di’nay. Although, she admitted grimly, it was becoming more difficult to sense even Di’nay.
A vague hum followed by a slight click caught her attention, and she realized Di’nay had switched on the decoding sequence. Elana rubbed her arms roughly; she was starting to get cold. She decided the worn folds of the bedrock behind her might be a little less exposed. Di’nay had said close to an hour — maybe less if they were lucky — before the combination unraveled. Apparently there were decoders that were much faster, but Di’nay did not have the proper equipment to make one of those. After seeing the likes of the laser gun, however, Elana was impressed that anything at all could be done to disarm it.
† † †
Diana slipped off into the forest again. She couldn’t fault Elana’s decision to stay. It was virtually impossible to return through those horizontal lasers that connected the guns together. She should have considered that possibility when she first saw the machines. But it amazed her that Garrison would have been so thorough. Those machines had been taken from cruisers; ships that had no need to string defensive electric eyes between their weaponry because they were on board their ships.
Even if Garrison had been coerced into designing a defense system, there was no reason for such extremes. This was a non-tech planet, not a science laboratory! Three guns strategically placed above on the Priory’s walls would have been sufficiently terrorizing. But this was insane!
Diana dropped to her stomach. The ring of sword and scabbard startled her. Hidden by the depths of the forest and its brush, she strained her eyes to see across the perimeter. Maroon and white tunics with gold-edged cloaks of the Maltar’s guards were suddenly visible in their lantern light. A patrol of twenty seemed to have sprung from nowhere…. Diana shivered, as she looked across to the base of the rising rock. Elana won’t be seen — if she doesn’t want to be, she won’t be — Elana!
† † †
The sword tips clinked as the soldiers tapped blades — victory toasts before the deed was even done — and Elana swallowed sheer panic. They had stepped from the darkness as if each one of them was Blue Sighted, their greedy passion for violence oozing through the air like pus from a sore.
She fumbled in the darkness, freeing her knife and sheath — not to fight, but to hide it. It dropped to the ground and she wedged it into the tiny fissure in the rock behind her. These men knew they faced a girl — a Blue Sight. Their snarling laughter showed they did not believe in the illusion of empty rock before them. She felt their appetites whetted for a kill — or perhaps, better, a slow death. There was one exception, their captain. His orders were clasped hard to the front of his mind, as if he might forget their importance.
They knew what she was! How could they have known?!
In another second they would start swinging their weapons. Through blackness, fire or raging armies they were prepared to ignore their own senses and wield blades in precise, practiced arcs. And even unseeing, their arching patterns would slice her illusions and her body. Down on one knee, hands atop her head, Elana trembled, letting her darkness slide away. The captain wanted surrender; she wanted to live — for a while yet. Di’nay was too close.
† † †
Diana buried her face in the gritty mud, jamming her gloved fist to her mouth. Silence — she choked on her silence. Her free hand clutched at the earth, her fingers curling — digging deeply through the soil. The laughter shouted again, and her body stiffened in rage. That was her lover, damn it! Didn’t she have the guts even to watch — not to leave her totally alone?!
&nb
sp; Fierceness matched tears as she forced her gaze back — silently shouting to Elana to survive as another booted foot smashed into her side.
Just a little longer until —
Until what? Her mind screamed. Until the decoder was done and the gun shut down? Just what in Fates’ Cellars did that help? There were twenty-odd men out there! Amazons are human. We bleed red blood. We die too! Just how would that help Elana? Frontal assault to victoriously die in unison? Or if you’re very lucky, in each others’ arms? Think, woman!
But they were going to kill her!
Not quite. They dragged their bound and blindfolded captive to her feet, and slowly Diana realized there was much more to their purpose than the uncovering an odd intruder. The blindfold meant planning; the beating, too severe for merely gaining compliance, had been too short for permanent damage — again forethought.
Distraction?
Pain blurred all but the best of concentration. Yes! They had known of Elana’s Blue Sight, and they were dutifully crippling her ability to use it. And dutifully enjoying each gesture.
Diana’s teeth ground together savagely. Someone knew far too much. If she lived long enough to find who!
No! Her fist uncurled from the depths of the black soil. Who was responsible was secondary. Freeing Elana — and Garrison — was first order. But if someone was that well informed, there was the risk that she too was being tracked.
Yet there was no sign of a matching welcome on her side of the perimeter. She was well enough hidden that she would have seen something of their approach by now. Perhaps the lone Southern Trader myth was still the current belief?
Oh good Goddess how could she have been so stupid?!
They had never suspected Di’nay, Southern Trader of the Desert Peoples. It had been Elana all along. Nattersu’s tale of a red horse was of Elana’s bay, Leggings — not her own stallion. The patrol at Cellar’s Gate must have carried word about her Blue Sight, so they had waited for their next ambush until the rocks would hide their presence. They had waited until she appeared in Maltar’s land to try again.
Diana shivered, realizing an informer at the Keep must be very close to the Council in order to be tracking them so well — yet the pieces did not quite fit. Shouldn’t they have known about her by this time? Unless that someone was a mala’ perhaps? A bedfellow and slave with limited snatches of conversation to guess by with another master here that was piecing the whole puzzle together?
She would be that traitor’s undoing!
But Diana’s heart tore as the savage captors took Elana away. She closed her eyes against the half-dragged, half-stumbling image of her beloved, and her face pressed into the soil again as the sobs rose.
† † †
Chapter Twelve
How many corners — how many stairs — how many hands bruised her body? She did not know. Elana lost count as she was slammed into the next wall — or thrown against the next step. If she kept their pace her feet were knocked out from beneath her. If she stumbled fists struck, causing her to fall. If she fell hard-leathered boots lifted her, commanding her forward — or spears prodded, ripping seams and skin with careless malice. And with each man’s cuff or push she knew his perverted pleasure and felt his merciless amarin.
She would have cried, had there been time, but the pain and twisted commands came in rapid succession, and she was left with no time for thought. Behind the blindfold her eyes flashed white with the sharpness of blows as the emptiness of the stone corridors rang with tormenting laughter.
Then suddenly she staggered to a halt and was left standing. No shoving, no pulling — just left.
Hushed breathing — the rustling of cloth registered quickly in her mind as the blindfold was snatched from her eyes, twisting and almost snapping her neck.
Waves of stinging, aching pain rushed past her. Elana made no effort to keep her eyes closed. If the monsters were so stupid…!
A denseness wrapped the room. A heavy, black, almost fog-like humidity smothered her, quelling the barrage of sensation. And her power was shackled though she was not harmed by that shackling. Mother of All — a Seer?! Her eyes shut. Instinctively she shied, ducking her chin into her shoulder with the terror.
Think! Before it was too late — concentrate!
A spear shaft struck the backs of her knees. Arms still bound behind her, she went down with a gasp, landing heavily on her hip and shoulder. Her teeth snapped shut with a resounding clack as another boot swept into her ribs.
Concentrate! He must not learn anything. Think of the Mistress — of trainees running. Concentrate.
“Enough!”
Murmurs in the court hall died instantly. The jabbing toes and spears stopped.
Concentrate.
The pain made her dizzy as hands roughly pulled her back to her feet. That was good. That was fine. Use it — project it. Make him control it.
A handful of hair was yanked hard, blinding her with white again. Her eyes flew open at the captain’s threatening amarin. She faced the summer court of the Maltar.
“I am here!” Elana barked harshly, arrogantly — despite it all. And she stared hard at the man upon the throne. The mute figure beside him shifted its attention to protect its master from her blazing blue gaze. “What is it you want?”
Beneath the crimson and gold tunic, a gruesome rasping noise grew to a shout of laughter. The Maltar was enjoying this new game. He had been sorely disappointed when he heard one lone Council spy had been sent, and that only a female. But perhaps — between her blue gift and her stubborn spirit — it would be amusing after all.
His laughter died as his dark eyes narrowed. He flicked a hand, and the captain released her hair; she almost fell — but not quite. The Maltar nodded approvingly, stroking the thin beard that outlined his jaw. She was not pretty by his standards, but he had never bedded a Seer. It would be an interesting experience — to know her disgust and fear, her debasement? — first hand. To know what this woman felt just as he triumphed? Yes — perhaps there would be advantages to this that he had not yet discovered. Aye, breaking her would be tedious, as it had been with the idiot beside him — that Blue Sighted male had taken nearly a full ten-day to lose its wits.
She would be no different. But afterwards — afterwards he would have breeding stock — and his fun. His voice rang smooth, an elegant tenor. “So what would she have us overlook, Seer?”
A trace of madness in that voice? Elana wondered while her concentration was held tight to her body’s acute pain. Brutally, she threw it all at the Seer.
The elder swayed beside the throne, his breath shallow, his skin darkening.
“Well?”
“I do not read her, mi’Lord.” His voice was weak and hoarse.
Elana sneered almost wickedly, using her anger at the men’s violence. She sought strength from the tension of the legions that lined the stone walls… from the craven bloodlust of the Captain’s guard… from the twisted desires of their ruler. Gathering every vile shadow that she could find, she flung them at him. Focused, magnified — she passed the raw savagery onto him. And the advantage was hers.
He was the Seer, she only a Blue Sight. Her powers were less, but her mind was still her own — her thoughts still hers to plan with — to attack with! Too long immersed, lost within his planet’s tides, the Seer was a communicator of visions — a mere tool for his master! without the consciousness to plot, without the ability to defend his mind’s boundaries. If the Maltar had any sense he would cut her down now — before she turned his precious counselor impotent for a monarc.
The Maltar’s lip curled into an appreciative, satirical smile.
Pity and revulsion stirred within her, but Elana’s concentration remained fixed. She continued. A black cloud hovered at the edges of her mind — watching. She would piece it together later, if there was a later.
The laughter of the Maltar rang out again. He could see that she twisted his fool well. Talented indeed but it would not save her. He felt h
is loins harden with the thought of her groveling insanity at their next meeting. “Do protect yourself, you witless bastard.” His fingers snapped; the Seer blinked, breaking his direct contact with Elana and turning to the Maltar, who said, “Well?”
Hollow words rasped, “The pain… the beating. The woman uses it against me.”
“I see you are not the only hapless idiot in my employ. Captain! Did I not order the woman bound and brought before me in good piece?”
No one looked at the man who stepped forward.
“Mind you,” the Maltar continued softly, “a little bruising may often breed cooperation, but in this case your men have overstepped their boundaries.”
The silence stretched.
“You are the elite of my guard, Captain! If my orders are not reliably executed under your command, where do you suggest I turn?”
The Captain had the wisdom to hold his tongue.
“The discipline in your ranks has broken, Captain! I am waiting to hear what you will do!” His breathing had quickened in the face of an implied snubbing. The Maltar writhed on his chair, black eyes glazing in a demented glare. “Captain?!”
“Yes, m’Lord!” He snapped to a straighter, more rigid pose. “Discipline has lapsed. The guilty will be dealt with. Obedience sharpened, m’Lord!”
The Maltar relaxed, a grimace half-hidden beneath his trembling hand. The stupidities of his militia were so unsettling; the need to assault this woman-spy had been gone when she was blindfolded. She was Blue Sight only until hooded; then she was no more than any other wench. Curse them! Carelessly they had provided her with the very weapon… and now? Now?! He would have to wait to discover the Council’s tid-bits of suspicions and plots.
Or would he? His eyes narrowed curiously, roving the length of her figure. A twisted, sugar-sweet smile grew slowly as his long fingers tapped his chin. He leapt with a startling quickness.
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 34
