0437169001337283106 wind demon 02

by dark wind

  Dorrie stared at the parasite, sickened by its phosphoric lime green coloring and slit red eyes. Its long, leathery body bent and twisted as its gaping mouth opened and closed revealing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. A long, forked tongue flicked about, testing the air. The smell of it was ten times worse than any charnel house.

  “If it would not do harm to Cree,” Kahmal whispered, “I’d lop the head off that evil thing and rid him of it.”

  The parasite pivoted around within the wound on the Reaper’s back until its beady red gaze was locked on Kahmal. For a moment it wavered there, glaring at the Amazeen, putrid green slime stringing from its open mouth. Where the slime landed on the Reaper’s back the flesh bubbled and broke as though struck with acid. Then the creature darted back through the gaping flesh and disappeared, its body moving like a current under Cree’s flesh.

  “Raphian,” a voice spoke from the doorway and the women turned to see Sejm standing there, her eyes as ancient as time. The Chalean Healer was trembling, one gnarled hand at her mouth. “The Destroyer has corrupted the Reaper’s body.”

  “I have heard of the demon,” Kahmal said. “That thing must be one of Its offspring.” Sejm lowered her gaze to the floor. She seemed to be seeking answers from the dirt beneath her feet.

  Unaware of the guards bringing in cots for Dorrie and Kahmal, the old women just stood there, lost in thought.

  “The wound has closed already,” Kahmal observed.

  Dorrie knew well the recuperative powers of a Reaper so felt no need to reply. She looked longingly at the cots being set up across the way then at Cree. Seeing him lying there on the dirty cave floor, writhing in pain, she could not force herself to seek the comfort of the cot.

  “Cirolia?” Kahmal inquired of one of the women outside the containment cell. “Would you be so kind as to escort Dr. Sejm back to the Aluvial? She seems shaken by what she has seen.” The Chalean Healer slowly lifted her head. Her rheumy eyes locked on Kahmal. “You will rue the day you ever laid hands on that one,” she said, nudging her chin toward Cree. “I always knew he was a demon’s spawn. Now, I am sure of it.”

  “He is your nephew, you arrogant old sow!” Dorrie threw at her. “Your sister’s only son! You know gods-be-damned well who his father was. You should know. You murdered Drae Cree!” Sejm ignored the Terran. Instead, she lifted a bony finger and pointed at Kahmal. “Take that viper to your bosom and you will birth the same spawn that slithers within his vile body!”

  “Get her out of here,” Kahmal snapped, turning her back on the crone. “And keep her the hell on board The Aluvial until we’re ready to depart Montyne Vex.”

  “Is that an order, Major?” Cirolia Sern inquired.

  “Aye, it is!”

  Cirolia stepped into the containment and took Sejm’s arm in a firm grip. “Please come with me, Doctor.”

  Though she allowed the Amazeen to lead her out of the cell, Sejm kept her stony stare on Cree’s convulsing body until she was no longer able to see him.

  “Get on that cot, Burkhart. You’re ready to drop from exhaustion.”

  “Let him use the other one. It will ease his discomfort.”

  It was on the tip of Kahmal’s tongue to deny the request, but then she sighed heavily, too tired and still too ill to fight. She waved a hand to two of the guards and stepped back as they hefted the Reaper between them and carried him to the cot.

  “Easy!” Dorrie rushed to take Cree’s sagging head as the guards lowered him on the cot. She placed his head gently then looked up at Kahmal. “Can we get a blanket to place under his neck?”

  “Would you like silk sheets and a bottle of Chrystallusian plum wine to go with that, milady?” Dorrie grinned. “I could use some Chalean brandy.”

  Kahmal pursed her lips. “Don’t push your luck, Sister.”

  “Bridget!” Cree shouted and it was all the two guards who had just finished dressing him in a spare jumpsuit could do to keep him on the cot.

  “There are leather restraints on The Aluvial. As weak as he is, he won’t be able to break free of them,” Kahmal said. “Get them and bind his wrists and ankles. I won’t take a chance with-”

  “Kam,” Dorrie said, pushing Kahmal and the guards away from him. “Kam, I’m here, my love.” The Reaper swung his fevered gaze to Dorrie and seemed to be trying desperately to focus on her face.

  “Bridie?” he questioned, reaching for her.

  “I’m here,” she said, taking his hands and placing them to her lips. “I am with you, beloved.” He freed one of his hands and cupped her cheek. “Don’t leave me,” he begged.

  “I am here, but you have to lie still. Don’t give the nurses any trouble, okay?”

  “No more sessions, Bridie,” he pleaded. “Please?”

  “No more sessions. You just rest. I’ll be right here with you.”

  “I hurt, Bridget,” he whispered. “My blood is boiling.”

  “I know, beloved, but the parasite is healing you. Just close your eyes...” She extracted one of her hands and reached out to close his eyes. “Sleep now. You have to rest and let the parasite do its job.”

  “You won’t leave me?” he asked in a child’s voice.

  “Never.”

  “I need ice. The blood is sizzling in my veins, Bridie. I need...” He stopped and the look on his face was pitiful. “Don’t go to him, Bridie,” he begged. “Don’t go to Konnor Rhye.”

  “I belong to you, my love. Konnor Rhye is gone. Remember?” He opened his eyes and looked blindly at her. “I killed him, didn’t I?” Dorrie nodded, knowing that though he was looking at her, he was seeing Bridget.

  “Aye, you did, Reaper.”

  “And the Amazeens.”

  Kahmal tensed, drawing in a long breath.

  “I had no choice, Bridget,” he said, a tear falling down his sunken cheek. “They would have fired on the ship.”

  “I know,” Dorrie replied, casting a quick look at Kahmal.

  “It was quick,” he told her. “I made sure they did not suffer.” Kahmal turned away, her face stony and set. But his next words made her turn to look at him: “Forgive me, Bridie. I had no choice. I didn’t want to kill them. I...”

  “Hush now,” Dorrie said. She placed her fingertips against his lips, but Kahmal reached down and tugged them away.

  “Let him speak,” the Amazeen Major demanded.

  “I am so sorry I had to,” Cree finished and his eyes closed.

  Dorrie was watching Kahmal’s face. When the Amazeen’s gaze shifted to her, the Terran woman cocked one blond brow. “Is he still the beast you thought him, Major?” Kahmal did not respond to the question. She jerked a thumb at the other cot. “Get your ass to bed, Burkhart. I’ll watch the Reaper and make sure he stays put.” Dorrie’s lips twitched. She knew it was the only acknowledgment she’d ever get from the Amazeen that the woman no longer considered Cree the enemy she once had labeled him.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was an easything for him to do. His immense psychic powers had been honed over the years, augmented by the mind tampering of his Controllers and the psychotropic drugs that had enhanced his mental abilities many times over. One moment he was lying still on the cot, staring up at the jagged rock ceiling, the next he was striding confidently to the containment cell door. Around him, five women slept soundly, their minds completely under his control.

  As were the minds of the two guards in the corridor who stealthily opened the door and allowed him to leave unchallenged.

  “Lock it,” he ordered and was instantly obeyed. When the women turned their eager-to-please looks to him, he bid them lie down and go to sleep, which they promptly did without so much as a sigh of denial.

  Though the Reaper was weak and feverish from the massive amount of poison still lurking in his body, he managed to make his way out of the cave system and onto the desolate plateau. His thinking was muddled, not as clear as he would have liked, but he had enough presence of mind to realize he was in danger if he st
ayed with his captors. He stared off across the barren plains of Montyne Vex for a long while, the wind whipping his hair about his flushed face then with a sigh of regret at the long descent to the desert floor, started down the steppes. As he progressed, he kept watch on the Amazeen ship that had brought him to this hellish place, making damnably sure his suggestionaries reached the sleeping women on board.

  “Stay there. Do not go to the monitors,” he ordered.

  Somewhere on the ship were his demonic aunt and the Captain she had enlisted in her crazed mission to murder him before he could be taken back to Rysalia Prime. He had thought of venturing inside the Aluvial and ending the lives of the two worthless hags, but he would have to put hands on them and the mere thought made him ill.

  He staggered as he stepped onto the desert floor and put a trembling hand to his forehead. The fever was still high and his head ached unmercifully. He knew he had to find shelter before the delirium began again. That this would happen, he had no doubt. For the moment, he was cognizant of his surroundings, but he knew he would soon be caught up in the convulsions that had wracked his body for over a week.

  From what he knew of ghoret bites, the poison would not leave his body for another week and he would be subject to moments of delirium until it did. It was what he was likely to do during those unrestrained moments that concerned him more than anything else.

  “Lock yourselves in,” he sent out to the women. “Do not...” He felt his parasite shift against his right kidney and he winced, putting a hand on his back to ease the terrible pain.

  “I will not harm those women,” he said, panting.

  The parasite twisted brutally and Cree went down on one knee, groaning with the agony the gods-be-damned thing was deliberately inflicting. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth, knowing the beast inside him was making a statement he dared not ignore: You will need to kill to sustain me.

  “I will feed you,” Cree promised. “But not the women!”

  There was a small lessening of the acute agony ripping through the Reaper’s body.

  “I will feed you,” Cree whispered, opening his tearing eyes to stare at the ground.

  Little by little, the parasite eased its painful hold on Kamerone Cree. When at last it lay still, the Reaper was able to push himself up and stagger away from the plateau.

  Kahmal woke andknew Cree had escaped. She bolted from the ground and stood staring at his empty cot, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

  “You played me for a fool, didn’t you, Reaper?” she seethed and knew it had all been an act. He had caused her to lower her defenses and then had slipped expertly under the shield.

  “It was the only thing he could do,” Dorrie said.

  Kahmal snapped her head toward the Terran. “It was all a lie. Everything he said-”

  “Kamerone Cree would never tell a lie, Major. You know that as well as I do.” Hissing with rage, Kahmal lashed out with her foot at one of the sleeping guards, but the women merely grunted and remained fast asleep. “Get up!” Kahmal shouted and kicked the woman again.

  “That’s not going to do any good. They are under his control.”

  “Then why aren’t we?”

  Dorrie swung her legs off the cot and ran her fingers through her yellow curls. “Because he trusts us.”

  “Does he trust my dagger?” Kahmal lowered her hand to an empty sheath at her thigh. She looked down, sputtering with impotent fury.

  “Apparently not.” Dorrie chuckled.

  “He took my weapon!” yelled Kahmal. “He took my gods-be-damned weapon!” She narrowed her blazing emerald eyes. “No man takes an Amazeen warrioress’ weapon and lives to brag of it!”

  “I don’t think stealing your weapon was meant as an insult, lady. He needs it to help him survive out there.”

  “He won’t be out there!” Kahmal denied. “He could not get past the guards!”

  “He got out of here, didn’t he?” Dorrie challenged. She looked to the door. “My guess is you’ll find that door locked and the women on the other side as sound asleep as those three are.” Kahmal’s eyes flared and she rushed to the door, pushing against it only to find it securely barred.

  “Guards!” she shouted, peering through the peephole. “Open this door! Now!”

  “Until he releases his hold on their minds, we aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Guards!” Kahmal shrieked, pounding on the door with her fists. “Open this door!” When there was no answer from the corridor, the Major bellowed in fury and turned her anger on the cot in which Cree had laid. Without a moment’s hesitation, the Amazeen began tearing the canvas and wood appliance apart with her bare hands.

  Dorrie stared at the woman, amazed at the strength in those long, tapered fingers. She watched in awe as Kahmal ripped off the top of the cot’s X-shaped legs. “What are you going to do?”

  “Just watch, Terran,” Kahmal snapped as she held up one end of the cot’s leg. Thick metal bolts extended from both ends of the six foot long section of board. Taking the board in her hands as though it were a bat, she swung it as hard as she could against the door. The wood split with a loud pop.

  Dorrie flung up an arm as part of the broken board went sailing past her head. “Son of a bitch!” she shrieked as the board hit the cave wall behind her. She turned furious eyes to the Amazeen. “You could have killed me with that thing!”

  Kahmal grunted. In her hand, she now held a four foot section of wood with bolts at a ninety degree angle to the wood. Stepping up to the door, she stuck the wood through the peephole, pressed herself tightly to the door, and angled the wood downward, aiming for the bar keeping the door closed.

  “You gotta be kidding me. You really don’t think you can hook those bolts under the bar and get enough leverage to...”

  The sound of the bar falling to the ground on the other side of the door interrupted Dorrie’s words.

  With a whoop of victory, Kahmal yanked open the door. She turned and gave Dorrie a smug look.

  “You were saying, Terran?”

  Dorrie got to her feet, her mouth agape. She looked from the opened door to the Major, unable to believe what had just happened.

  “Amazeens are trained to think quickly, Burkhart. Once, in recruit training, I was shown that trick.” Dorrie whistled, then locked eyes with the warrioress. “I’m glad you were paying attention that day, Major.”

  “So am I.” Kahmal smiled and swept her arm toward the door. “Shall we go find our errant Reaper?” Dorrie hesitated. “What happens if we do find him?”

  The smile slipped from the Amazeen’s face. “I am bound to him through the Attribution.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But just what they hell does that mean?” Kahmal sighed. “I forget you are not familiar with our customs. Our...” She stopped, looked at the guards. “One moment.”

  The Major relieved one of the sleeping guards of a dagger then carried one after the other into the cell.

  She slipped the bar back into place, locking them inside. If the Amazeen’s action surprised her, the Terran woman gave no sign of it.

  “According to our tribal laws, if a male saves the life of an Amazeen at great risk to his own, he is no longer subject to the same laws that govern other males in our society. If he is a captive from another world, he is given his freedom and-”

  “You’re going to set Kamerone free?”

  Kahmal shook her head. “You know we can’t do that. The Tribunal would never allow it.”

  “But you just said-”

  “Let me finish!” Kahmal glared at Dorrie.

  Dorrie snapped her mouth shut.

  “The granting of Attribution is extremely rare. When a male is given his freedom, he is also given a choice: Stay on Amazeen with his lady as her companion or be returned to his world where most likely than not, his fellow males will shun him.”

  “Why?”

  “Most captive males have been neutered unless they are assigned to a breeding farm. Mo
st males want nothing to do with a half-man.”

  Dorrie gasped. “You castrate them?”

  “It is the only way to curb their aggressive natures,” defended Kahmal.

  Dorrie ignored that ridiculous remark and seized upon the other part of the Major’s explanation. “So how is a free male to be a companion to his lady if he doesn’t have a...”

  “You think with your iggox, don’t you, Terran?” Kahmal scoffed.

  Dorrie might not have understood the Amazeen word, but she understood the intended insult. She narrowed her eyes at the crudeness.

  “By companion I meant-”

  Dorrie snorted. “A lap dog.”

  “In a manner of speaking. The male will lead a comfortable life without the worry of being sold or forced to do hard labor.”

  “For joy, for joy.” Dorrie rolled her eyes.

  “Better than the alternative of being put to the sword.”

  “No wonder the men of this part of the universe hate you bitches.” Kahmal cast her an annoyed look but did not reply.

  They reached the mouth of the caves. The gray sky tumbled with the threat of an approaching storm and off in the distance, forks of lightning bored the ground. The wind whipped around them, laden with dampness, and shrieked through the craggy cliffs overhead. They could barely make out the outline of the ship sitting off to their left.

  “He will have made for the northern ice fields,” Kahmal shouted above the storm’s din.

  “How do you know?”

  “There’s water there and he will need it to survive. Reapers are like other beasts. Cree will be able to smell the underground springs.”

  Kahmal started down the steppes, but Dorrie grabbed her arm.

  “He saved your life.”

  Kahmal nodded. “And now that life belongs to him.”

  “So you will repay him for that act of selflessness by helping to take his.” Dorrie’s angry gaze pierced the other woman.

  Kahmal raised her chin. “According to tribal law, I am duty bound to see no harm befalls him.”