With a faltering step, she started down the prison’s corridor….
† † †
Metal rang as swords clashed. With a vicious swipe, Diana sent the sergeant staggering aside. She turned as the fellow covered in ash and burnt porridge rose from the hearth, fiery branch in hand. He rushed her. Striking downwards, Diana split the wood in an orange flash. She lunged. The man went to the floor with a death gasp.
Then she spun, ducking low. Her leg kicked out, seeking to trip the sergeant behind her as her sword pulled free. But he had backed off with a grunt, his knee only grazed.
The eitteh clung to the torch man’s back. Her jaws sank deeper as the man rolled. The unlit torch clubbed the winged-cat’s shoulders, but she remembered her mother’s death. She kept her wings folded, throwing her weight behind their roll.
The cloak slowed Diana’s arm and her boot slipped in the blood.
The weight of the sergeant’s sword sent her tripping over the body at her heels.
The sergeant’s blade lifted high.
Only half-standing, Diana pushed her sword up broadside in defense — a knife flew from behind… a gold flash streaked upwards. As one, dagger and tooth sank into flesh, and the sergeant fell. Beneath the sudden weight Diana stumbled again and dropped with him as the eitteh’s great wings unfurled in her lunge upwards; the animal twisted and his neck broke all too easily.
She lay a second sandwiched between the dead soldiers, then gathered her breath and pushed the sergeant away. Diana raised herself to an elbow and looked towards the far passageway. She would know that warm, silent call anywhere. “I thought — I was suppose to save you this time?”
Elana smiled weakly from where she crouched against the wall. “And you have.” She let the torchman’s knife sheath drop with her black string.
Brown eyes shifted to the golden creature, and Diana tipped her head. “My thanks to you as well.”
The animal ruffled its fur and yawned widely.
Diana moved to the side chamber, reappearing in a few moments with a long bow and a quiver of arrows.
“Sleeps only four,” she muttered curtly, stepping across the bodies. “I don’t expect any of these fellows will miss their things. Did you meet up with the fourth? He went down your way.”
Elana nodded faintly. “He’s locked in my cell.”
Diana helped her to stand, noticing her deeply browned color.
Elana forced a cynical smile — she would cry if she did not. “They aren’t very hospitable here.”
Diana’s eyes reflected her concern, but she respected the sarcasm. She knew only too well how much pain it could hide, and they were not yet safe.
Elana clung to Di’nay’s arm, drinking in her lover’s strength. She let herself sag a little. “Dearest Mother… I am so very glad you came.”
Diana held her closer, a kiss brushing the soft, dark hair. “I’d not leave you.”
Elana nodded, her cheek pressed against Di’nay’s sleeve. She knew that now. With an effort she drew away and looked to the corridor where she had just come from. “I believe your pilot may be down there. The third door to the right.”
“Third door?” Diana glanced anxiously at the passageway. Urgency was pressing, but she did not want to leave Elana either.
The younger woman nodded again, turning Di’nay and pushing her down the hall with, “I am not certain. But there was a — difference. Something very out of place. I think perhaps it is his alienness.”
With a grunt Diana tried the wooden door before them; not surprisingly, it was locked and with an iron tumbler at that. So much for the metal-poor planet. She pulled open the portal’s shutter but the dim light inside showed her nothing. Stepping back she asked, “Can you feel anything in there?”
“There is only one.” The shadows glowed with weakened life. “He is not of Aggar. He’s dressed much as Commander Bailey was — in synthetic.”
“Garrison.” Diana glanced about them, frowning at no sign of a key rack.
“The keys are with the soldier in my cell,” Elana said quietly. She hesitated the barest of moments before adding, “I would rather not face him again.”
“Is Garrison far enough in for me to safely hack through?”
“Yes,” and Elana moved back.
Gripping the hilt with both hands Diana planted her feet… unfortunately, she had no more plastique with her, and the noise would bring other soldiers anyway. Her concentration focused and she swung.
The wood splintered with hot orange sparks. Another blow and smoldering chips flew. Again and the plank holding the lock was severed.
Well done, Symmum, Diana praised and brushed aside the dangling fragments. Her hand, protected by the glove, grabbed the ragged edge of the plank and tugged. With a single wrench the lock came away, the bolt sliding free from its stone hole.
She pulled the door open and felt her heart stir with pity. Suddenly Diana was not so certain this man had been capable of arranging the lasers’ defense outside.
A frail man, perhaps a hundred and twenty pounds, knelt curled against the stone wall. Half-hidden by the straw that lined the cell floor, his slight frame could have as easily been a heap of rags. The white fieldsuit was tattered and grimy. His dark hair was straggly and unwashed. His beard was full. Seemingly mindless he was bent over, intent on the small twirling movements of his fingers. His eyes were wide and unfocused as he watched his hands.
“Pilots are usually thin,” Diana muttered, fighting a rising nausea at the stench that drifted to her, “but not like this.”
“It is the porridge,” Elana said, attuned to Di’nay’s revulsion. She pointed to the bowl that lay beside the door, tipped on its side. The cream on top had curdled long ago. She looked more closely then at this pilot. Surely he would not have let the food spoil if he’d been so hungry.
His fingers fumbled without purpose, and his gaze was unblinking.
“He is not wholly sane,” she murmured and cautiously stepped into the chamber. The touch of the straw about her booted ankles was welcoming as she concentrated on Garrison. Elana’s body absorbed the amarin’s strength. A few feet in front of him Elana paused. Slowly she sank level with him, seeking his eyes.
Whiteness… sheets and sheets of empty white metal… grooves… tools… fine lines of metal string…. Color on whiteness… endless lines… fine adjustments… endless, endless colored lines…
Confused, Elana blinked and separated from him. The things had made no sense to her. His fiddling fingers went on in their empty task, and she watched curiously. Perhaps he was doing something with those metal lines of color?
“Di’nay.” She only half turned, too sore to move her neck and too fascinated with those playing hands.
Diana came to her, taking the hand that Elana reached out to her.
Her blue eyes looked up then, seeking Di’nay’s. “Do you know these things?”
A tension filled her first, and Diana realized how tightly Elana was controlling herself. Then images slipped by and suddenly left.
Elana dropped her gaze, fearful of sharing too much.
Diana frowned, understanding that something was not being shown to her, and she worried that that something was not merely from Garrison’s thoughts. She held her tongue; they were not safe.
“Do you recognize any of it?” Elana prompted again.
“Some.” Diana remembered the question. “It looks a bit like the electricians’ shop at the base. That’s what he’s thinking about?”
“That is where he believes he is. Was it in such a place that he could have made use of laser guns?”
Diana’s scowl deepened. Somehow the pieces were beginning to make sense. He had done such a thorough job on that defense system because he had not known this was Aggar. She nodded grimly at his hunched figure. “Can he travel?”
“His legs will move…” Elana had doubts about her own. Holding herself steady with Di’nay’s hand, she managed to get to her feet. “…but he will not be h
urried.”
Elana turned to face Di’nay. “This is not merely a madness grown from isolation. He is under the Seer’s touch, Di’nay, and this illusion is reality to him.”
“A Seer? Here?!”
Elana nodded.
“But — ” How did not matter, she reminded herself, and she spun, moving quickly to the door. “Fates’ Jest! No wonder there were so few guards.”
The eitteh sat outside watching for soldiers. Calmly she glanced over a shoulder as Diana emerged. Her ear flicked a greeting and she went back to her vigil.
“The Seer cannot see through stone,” Elana assured Di’nay quickly. “Once the madness set in there did not need to be direct vision. The Seer will be in the open turrets above. You and I will remain unseen until we venture out beyond the stone.”
“But how did I get by him?!” Diana rasped. “None of this makes any sense.”
“You carry no surface clues of your foreignness. Perhaps he has been so concerned with me that he has not discovered you. I do not understand it, but he is very old and very, very abused. It is possible that his Sight has become so distorted that he has not recognized you. Or he sees you as a ordinary traveler not to be feared. I did not want to lead him to you, Di’nay. Through me, he may find you now.”
“No doubt he will,” Diana muttered. Her matter-of-factness was reassuring as Elana read her amarin — her Amazon wanted them together before all else.
None of this changed anything, Diana decided finally. Plans had been laid. They had about fifteen more minutes before the lasers blew, and then five before the batteries. She was counting on the confusion of the explosion for their escape. If they made it to the horses, they still might outrun followers before dawn found them at the river. It did suggest they should go downstream from there, however. Distance was going to be critical in the sort of race where a Seer might track them. They’d confiscate the ferry barge and cut her free; then even if they were tracked downriver they would make better time than those on horseback. And too it would delay the pursuit in crossing until Maltar’s crew detoured to the next ferry.
“All right then.” Diana slipped the quiver of arrows over Elana’s head. Bending the bow to set the gut string, she explained, “I’ll carry this fellow and you’ll again have the dubious honor of protecting my back. I have horses waiting beyond the south guard gate where I came in. We’ll cut through the trees and angle right back to the road. If we can make the ferry crossing before they catch us, there’s hope.”
“There is always hope.” Elana smiled softly.
Diana paused, sharing the warmth of that smile with one of her own. Yes there was always that. She handed the bow to Elana and bent, heaving Garrison’s slight form over her shoulder like a sack of grain; he was even lighter than she’d thought.
The eitteh eyed this new hindrance with suspicion, but she set off silently, leading them back to the gate.
They met no one on the way out. It was near dawn and those that had such early business were already up and moving about in the cold halls above. The others of the Priory were in bed still, intent only on snatching as many precious moments of sleep as possible. The same, single guard was still on duty as they returned to the entrance. Diana struck from behind. She couldn’t wait for him to need the latrine this time around.
She nodded to Elana as the younger woman drew her cloak from the green satchel. It was going to be a cold, misty ride this morning.
East near the road, the explosion blew. Diana stepped clear of the shadowy entrance to watch. The master control and its stone housing were not visible at this distance, but the brilliant flare lit the eastern air like a sun going nova. The chain reaction started and the guns went in quick succession, metal casing, bursting like egg shells into a fiery orange.
Diana turned back to shoulder Garrison again and met Elana’s astonished expression. “You think that’s something, wait ’til the batteries go.”
Elana blinked and said nothing. The power of the Empire was daunting.
They hurried across the open perimeter. The savage gray smoke and electrical stench mingled, thickening the morning mists and cloaking their passage. Within a dozen meters the guards scrambled and jostled in confusion. No one was quite certain what to do with the flaming machines.
The batteries went and the explosion shook the ground; the entire Priory was silhouetted in the blast. Neither woman paused this time as they reached the nervous horses, but Diana had chosen well. Long tried and true campaign animals these were, and even the unfamiliar scent of fused wires did not totally unsettle them. They had seen villages burnt and witnessed rioting battles. They only stirred uneasily at this — it was the men of the Priory who were taken by the raw panic.
“The Maltar may kill him for this.” Elana spoke quietly, kneeing her horse around to join Di’nay’s. Garrison was clutched firmly before her, in no state to ride by himself. The third horse they let go.
“Kill who?” Diana settled herself on her horse, feeling more secure with the bow back in her own hand.
“The Seer.”
A gruff grunt came in return. “We could not be so lucky.”
An arrow whizzed from nowhere and Elana ducked, her arm flinching as it grazed past. She spurred her horse as they heard a soldier cry, “Bu’ I saw one! There I tell you! There!”
They rode hard, pushing the horses as fast as they dared through the fog and forest. The eitteh left them for the heights. Elana took the lead, keeping a tight rein on her Sight as well as her horse. The Seer would not find them from her own Sight’s betrayal. He could hunt Garrison, but she would not inadvertently help him again.
They made the road and felt the horses steady with familiar ground underfoot, and the mounts found their second wind.
The boatman’s shack was barely three leagues from the Priory’s gates. Diana drew her sword as they thundered into his compound. Warned by the explosion and pounding hooves, the old warrior had readied himself for a battle. Sharp and quick the man’s blade swung as she swept past the corner of his hut. He struck only air.
Diana wheeled to meet him. Silver and sparks flashed through the misty white as swords sang. But she had no mercy this morning, and with a cry her horse pushed forward and her blade bit deep. Gasping, the man folded and she pulled clear.
Elana rode grimly onto the barge. Diana dismounted in mid-stride to send the horse aboard alone. For an instant she slid into the brush beyond the boatman’s shack. With packs in hand she reappeared, tossing them onto the barge.
She paused to take an oar — just in case — from the flat bottomed boat nearby. With a thrust the keel opened and the water began to seep in; Diana had no intentions of allowing anyone an easy pursuit. The mooring rope was severed by a flash of her blade. Hurrying she boarded, exchanging the oar for pole and, sheathing her sword, she turned to guide them off.
Elana watched silently, keeping her mount steady and centered with a hand lightly holding Di’nay’s horse too. Garrison slumped against her, barely conscious even to his electronic world.
Di’nay dropped the pole on the deck with barely a clunk and stepped to the crank. The ropes protested with a wailing creak, but the barge moved into the current. Mid-way across Di’nay left the turnwheel and heaved the old, decrepit rudder off its rack. There were ironcast locks at either end of the barge, and Di’nay chose the southshore end. The rudder resisted slipping in, but a swift side kick joggled it down the last inch. She set the pin securely and turned to Elana.
The sudden release of Garrison’s weight almost unhorsed her, and Elana stretched her back muscles with caution, wishing again that her right leg wasn’t so stiff. Di’nay set Garrison down. He lay curled up and barely alive on the deck. Diana reached for her. Her feet prickled and nerves stung as she was forced to stand again. Di’nay let her cling an extra half-second. Then Elana nodded. “I’m all right.”
“Can you handle the rudder?” Diana was not convinced Elana could even walk those few steps.
�
��Yes.” It was a decisive answer.
Elana took her place and Diana drew her sword again. With a resounding thunk the rope that held them to shore was sliced on the north side of the crankcase. Quickly Diana grabbed for the loose end that snaked over the top. It pulled and she clenched her teeth, wrapping the piece around her gloved hand for a better grip.
The current tugged and the rope tightened, and gradually the barge began to swing downstream. For a brief moment Diana thought she was going to lose her hand, but she planted a foot against the crank and heaved. The extra inch came and an eddy caught the flat bottomed ferry, aiming them due west, down the Ma’naur. Diana released the rope with a sigh, and they were away.
Fingers flexing, she glanced apprehensively at the lifting fog. For the last four days it had hung on well through mid-morning. It was clearing earlier today.
“The Seer is raising the fog. He is looking for us,” Elana said quietly, her voice falling flat in the dampened air. This dark haze her Sight saw was not as characteristic of the Maltar’s lands as she had first thought when gazing across the wastelands to his shores. She now knew it for what it was: the cloaking cloud of a Seer hiding what his master bid hidden. She knew of such hazes only from apprentices’ stories of foolery. After all, Seers were always Council’s men… until now. It was little wonder that she had not recognized it as that blue spun power. For how many years had the Maltar schemed unwatched by the Council eyes?
“How is your arm?”
Elana nearly jumped. She looked down, gripping the dusty wood of the tiller with white-knuckled hands. It was frightening that she could be so easily startled. There were dangers in readjusting to this outside world. With an effort she steadied her breathing. There were so many swirling, tangled energies flowing around her that she found herself almost numb, and she wondered if this had been how it felt when she was a small child before she had learned to control her Sight. She resisted the impulse to reach out and absorb those flowing lines — that would be as good as setting up a signal fire for the Seer.
Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar) Page 37
