Artemis Awakening

by Lindskold, Jane

  When they reached the vicinity of the Old One’s office, Cordie held up a hand in a gesture for “wait.” A moment later he whispered, “Archie,” and gave an eloquent shrug.

  Without another word, he walked briskly up to where a bristle-haired man sat drowsing on a three-legged stool.

  Archie rose, probably expecting to relay a message. He was stretching and pulling his tunic straight when Cordie’s fist caught him solidly in the gut. This was followed by a left to the jaw that knocked him out. Griffin and Terrell needed no other signal. They were on the fallen man before he could hit the floor. Griffin trussed him neatly in the sheet.

  Pausing only to make sure his tunic was neat, Cordie knocked on the office door. The Old One’s voice was thinly audible.

  “Yes?”

  Cordie swung the door open wide, then moved briskly, the piece of paper extended. “Message from Griffin Dane, sir.”

  “Griffin? At this hour?” The Old One accepted the paper.

  “He thumped on his door until Sam came. Sam relayed it to me, and I brought it here.”

  Griffin heard the paper being unfolded. He wished he could see the Old One’s face as he looked at the string of Sierran characters Griffin had scrawled on the page.

  “What the…”

  Moving almost as one, Griffin and Terrell were on him. Nonetheless, darting out his right hand with astonishing speed, the Old One managed to pull a rope that hung just a few inches away. A loud bell tolled. A male voice shouted, then another.

  “But they’ll be too late,” Griffin said, tightening his hold on the much smaller man. “We have you.”

  “So it seems,” said the Old One Who Is Young. “So it seems.”

  * * *

  As Adara and Sand Shadow raced in the direction of the noise, it rapidly became apparent that it came from two sources: the first was the dormitory where most of the resident males slept, the other was Administration. Since Adara heard Griffin and Terrell’s voices in the latter area—and neither sounded unduly distressed—she angled toward the men’s dormitory.

  As with the area that held the women and children, this dormitory had been adapted by walling off sections in one of the vast shuttle hangars. Unlike the women, who were allotted no privacy, the men had small individual rooms, although they shared common toilet areas and baths. The individual rooms emptied into a common corridor that fed into a wider area that served as communal dining room and lounge.

  Although the seegnur had always left a back way out, Adara had noted that the Old One had not done so here. She wondered if the Old One had wanted to be able to trap the bulk of “his” men in case they became dissatisfied with a life that was hardly better than incarceration. Such seemed likely. Adara thought she was beginning to understand how the Old One thought, the thoughts of a man who had lived hundreds of years and planned to live hundreds more.

  When Adara and Sand Shadow arrived, the men had only just begun to emerge from their rooms into the corridor. They were in various states of undress. A few of the more alert held weapons. More held candles or lanterns. She heard their muttered comments clearly.

  “What’s going on?”

  “If this is another damn drill, I’m going to have Julyan’s balls.” This from a man who not only held a sword but had stamped into a pair of boots.

  “Hey, watch out with that candle!”

  “Let’s get out of this crush.”

  “Tam, Pik.” This from Boots. “You’re better dressed than most of these slobs. Head for the Old One’s office. That’s his bell that went off.”

  Two men, also armed, also more than minimally clad, pushed through the others toward the exit.

  Adara sent an image to Sand Shadow. The end of the corridor was illuminated by a single lantern. The great cat could easily put it out. Adara herself moved to block the exit.

  As a hunter, she had not trained with a sword, but she was very good with a staff—and it had a longer reach than a sword. When Sand Shadow extinguished the lantern, she moved to block the exit.

  “Hold,” she said. “No one shall pass.”

  Lights angled toward her.

  “That’s not one of ours!”

  “Who the hell?”

  “All she’s got is a stick…”

  This was from a man who had emerged from his room holding a sword and wearing not very much clothing. An easy swing of Adara’s staff demonstrated why “just a stick” was more than enough, especially to a man with no crotch protection. The man crumpled, sucking in his breath. The crowd in the corridor instantly thinned as men retreated to claim weapons, clothing, and other gear.

  Adara sent an image to Sand Shadow: seek something hidden, probably holds the Old One’s scent but few others. She included a flash of other concealments they had found hidden in the Old One’s complexes.

  Boots, with Tam and Pik as assistants, was assembling a small army when Sand Shadow sent a gleeful image of a panel behind which was a broad rectangular lever flush with the wall.

  Pull down, Adara suggested.

  Extending her claws, the puma gripped and tugged. The lever moved easily. A grinding noise sounded above and to the sides of the doorway into the men’s quarters. A moment later, a gate slid down and closed off the exit. The gate was made of wrought iron, clearly intended to resist the tools the men would have with them.

  Boots, who had been hurrying forward, jumped back rather than risk being impaled.

  Adara quickly found the bolts that locked the gate into place. Compared to the seegnur’s technology, the barrier was primitive enough, but she was sure it would hold these men in. After all, the Old One had intended that it should.

  Eventually, the men could break out, but not before Adara and Sand Shadow had time to scour the complex for the remainder who had been standing watch. Cordie was doubtless with Terrell and Griffin. If Griffin’s information was correct, there would only be a few more—but even one could undo the bolts or untie Julyan and then they would be in trouble.

  Before beginning her search, Adara checked to make sure Julyan was still secure. He was but, just in case, she dragged him into a nearby closet, closed the door, and shimmed it shut with a convenient doorstop. She’d found and disabled another guard, gotten Sand Shadow’s image of another taken out of action, when she heard a strange sound, familiar, but somehow difficult to place. Then she realized it was the roar of water.

  * * *

  The Old One clearly expected his bell to do something dramatic. His expression was sardonic, the mocking expression in his grey eyes deepening as booted feet pounded up the corridor.

  Griffin wrapped his hand over the Old One’s mouth before the other could call out. Cordie dodged into the outer corridor.

  “Hey, Dognose. False alarm.”

  His voice fell too soft for those in the room to hear, but Griffin didn’t doubt that Cordie was explaining how the Old One had been careless. There was a thump. Cordie poked his head back in.

  “That was Sam. There’s a commotion by the men’s dorm, but I don’t hear anyone coming.”

  Terrell grinned. “Adara and Sand Shadow probably have them pinned down.”

  Griffin turned his attention to the Old One. The pale grey eyes had lost their mocking expression, but there was no panic there, only thoughtfulness.

  “We’ve taken this place,” Griffin said. “If Adara followed the plan, the women and children are already out. No help seems to be coming for you. Really, the only question that remains is what do we do with you. I know plenty of people who would say killing was too good, but I’m selfish. You have things I want. I doubt you’ve shared all your secrets. I could unravel them in time, but I’d rather suggest a partnership—similar to the one you suggested to me but with the positions reversed. You get the cozy bedroom and supervised research; I get a bit more mobility. Who knows? In the end, we may both profit.”

  He uncovered the Old One’s mouth. The Old One asked, “And how would you explain my absence?”

  “Yo
u’re a mysterious man. It won’t be hard.”

  “And your own resurrection?”

  “I was never dead. I’ll try to come up with an explanation that will save your reputation, but I’m sure that one or more of your men—Cordie, say—would be happy to come forth if I need witnesses as to what you did to me. You’re respected, Old One, but I don’t think you have too many friends.”

  Terrell nodded. “The people of Spirit Bay are more scared of you than otherwise. The loremasters are awed, but many are disgruntled that you dismiss the more spiritual aspects of the lore.”

  “Where would I be kept?”

  “Here, for now,” Griffin said. “It’s convenient. Isolated, but close to things we’re both interested in—like what’s behind that hidden door. Now that we know there are at least two tunnels connecting to the mainland, this place should serve nicely.”

  “You’ve thought it all out.”

  “I’ve had a lot of time. My evenings were very long.”

  The Old One looked between Griffin and Terrell. “There are legends that the factotum were adapted so that in an emergency they could serve as communications for the seegnur—a safeguard against the primitivism they claimed to crave. I wonder…”

  Terrell shrugged. “Wonder all you want. Like Griffin says, you’re going to have a lot of quiet evenings.”

  “I keep my life, but not my freedom,” the Old One mused. “Well, in a long existence I’ve been offered worse. I shall accept. Shall I show my good will by directing you to the tunnel that leads directly to the Sanctum?”

  His expression turned wry. “I told very few about it. It was built so that it could be hidden. The staff did not wish tourists from the landing base to come through.”

  Griffin glanced at Terrell.

  Terrell frowned. “No need to take risks. We’ll leave by the way we already know is secure.”

  “Good point.”

  “You decline.” The Old One looked pleased rather than otherwise. “Very well. Where will you keep me?”

  “For now, my cell will do,” Griffin said. “I’ve spent enough time in there to be sure it’s secure—not one of these plaster and timber rooms you’ve built.”

  “I believe that room was the office of one of the engineers,” the Old One said. “All original construction.”

  He let them escort him from the room. Cordie looked nervous. “The shouting from the dorm has muted. I swear shadows are racing about—one on four legs. I’ve been listening. What do you want me to do while you lock up the Old One?”

  “Go reassure yourself that Zenobia and the rest have gotten away,” Griffin said. “I know I’d be worried. Then go down by the men’s dorm area. Stay out of sight. See if Adara needs help.”

  “Done.” Cordie grabbed a lantern and was gone.

  “Zenobia,” the Old One said thoughtfully. “I knew she was trouble, but she has a strong latent telepathy I didn’t want to do without. I’m sure that and closely related clairvoyance are going to be very important for connecting with the seegnur’s devices.”

  “Tell us later,” Griffin suggested. “Pipe down.”

  The Old One did, but Griffin could feel him watching, assessing. His flesh crept. Why did he have the feeling that the Old One still had a trick or two up those well-tailored sleeves? Maybe they should have knocked him out, but the Old One’s later cooperation might depend on how valued he felt.

  And if I ever want to contact my ship, I fear I will need that cooperation. I doubt he’s shared more than a tenth of what he knows.

  They were passing a junction of tunnels within the seegnur-constructed parts of the complex when the Old One broke his silence.

  “Over there is the tunnel that leads to the Sanctum.”

  Griffin looked, but saw nothing resembling an entrance. That didn’t surprise him. What did was when the Old One, who to that point had been walking between Griffin and Terrell with relative quiescence, suddenly twisted. Each man had maintained a firm hold on one of the Old One’s upper arms—quite an easy thing since they were both markedly taller—but had not otherwise restrained him. Now Griffin doubted that anything short of shackles and leg irons would have held their prisoner.

  The Old One proved terribly strong and as graceful as a snake. He broke both their holds with ease. Light-footed, he ran a few paces, then leapt up into the air. With fists doubled over, he slammed into a portion of the wall paneling over his head. Paneling fell away, revealing a lever of modern construction.

  “Take my work, will you?” the Old One said, hauling down on the U-shaped piece of metal. “I don’t think so—not you nor anyone else. I prepared against something like this from the start. You should have worked with me. Now, you’re going to be lucky to get out of here with your lives.”

  With a loud clatter, something broke loose behind the wall. This was followed by the roar of falling water, a roar that only slightly muffled a series of successive crashes. The thunder of falling water grew. Moments later, a panel burst inward under the pressure, funneling water out as though through a hose.

  Suddenly Griffin and Terrell were struggling for their footing. The Old One gripped the edges of the wall and hauled himself toward the ceiling. There he tore away a square panel and pulled himself into the dark space above. He didn’t look back.

  Interlude: Tripartite

  Neural network, seeded spores activated by annihilating desire, interlacing mosaic, pieces yet unplaced.

  I greet you.

  And you?

  A bundle of emotions, contradictions …

  How can I introduce myself when each day makes me stranger to myself?

  Try.

  Adara the Huntress. I greet you.

  And you?

  Killer of many. Murderer of none. Neckbreaker. Blood drinker. I have fingers and a thumb. Laughter for two—or three.

  I greet you.

  Greetings done …

  What’s to come?

  22

  After the Flood

  Nearly as soon as Adara identified the sound, she was up to her knees in water. Sand Shadow screamed in protest. Pumas were strong swimmers, but this was different. Adara shared the puma’s awareness that they were boxed in with water rising around them.

  As the puma’s panic battered her mind, Adara fought to think clearly. Swiftly, she sketched an image of the tunnel, a reminder that there was at least one way out. She felt Sand Shadow calm, but she still heard screaming. This sound—more distant and diffuse—came from the men trapped behind the gate.

  Would the wood and stone walls hold against the pressure? Probably not, but certainly they would hold long enough for the men trapped between them to drown. For a moment, Adara considered leaving them. Many of them had participated in the Old One’s cruelties—had been jailers and rapists. Some, but not all. She forged against the current, moving in the direction of the screams. As she did so, Adara first kicked off her soft shoes, then stripped off her trousers and shirt. She let her staff go, but kept the belt from which hung her knife and several other useful items.

  Sand Shadow protested going back in as foolhardy, but only until Adara sent her an image of Bruin’s lessons—how killing in a good cause was not wrong, but torment and torture always was. Flashed into the image was the day they had tracked a wounded deer through a driving thunderstorm to grant the creature mercy.

  Get out, Adara sent. Assure me the tunnel is still open or if we need to find another exit.

  As she forged forth, the level of the water varied, sometimes only knee deep, others almost to her chest. It tasted brackish, so she deduced that someone—the Old One?—had discovered a way to flood the place in case of emergency. That he cared little who drowned was shown when she came to the area outside the men’s dormitory. Here the water was quite deep, possibly deliberately fixed to assure that any traitors would drown if they tried to take refuge in “their” quarters.

  The darkness did not trouble Adara, but it was adding to the men’s panic.


  She called out. “I’m going to raise the gate. The tunnel to the mainland remains open. You can get to land that way.”

  She dove beneath the water, finding the bolts by touch and shooting them back. She moved swiftly out of the way as the men closest to the gate surged forward. She heard Boots’s voice, strong and commanding.

  “Remember the night drills, men. Follow my voice.”

  Adara was about to offer herself as a guide when memory struck her. Julyan. Not only bound and gagged, but stuffed into a closet. No matter what he had done, she could not leave him to die that way. Letting the current help her along, she swam toward the women’s facility. Either Boots would get his men out or not. If she didn’t help Julyan, no one would.

  To Adara’s horror, the water was even deeper near the women’s facility. Had the Old One wanted to assure that his experiments would be destroyed? She hoped that Zenobia and Narda had gotten everyone out.

  When Adara reached the closet, she felt little hope that she would find other than a drowned man, but the door—although of modern manufacture—had kept out some of the water. Julyan had forced himself around in the confined space. Although Adara knew he could not see her, she felt his dark eyes glowering at her.

  Drawing her knife, she cut first the gag, then the bonds at his ankles, then those that held his wrists.

  “Swim,” she said, pulling him upright, “if you can.”

  “Stiff,” Julyan gasped. “I can’t.”

  Adara grabbed him by his long hair and tugged. “Roll on your back and float. I’ll pull.”

  Julyan complied. Towing him, Adara struggled through the increasingly deep water, glad that—unlike the mountain pools in which she had learned to swim—these waters were summer warm. Occasionally, she thought she heard others moving, but the corridors leading to the tunnel were all too quiet. Either her aid had come too late for Boots and his men or they had known a closer way out.

  Eventually, Adara felt Julyan shifting, first moving his arms and legs, then rolling over onto his stomach. She barely had time to realize that she was in danger when he hit her solidly along the back of the neck.