'The life you'll live from this moment on,' the tiger replied.
He remembered he had one task undone: Vengeance. “Why do you need my help?” Guarding Bear asked aloud.
'The rock pins me, as you. My spine is broken somewhere in the lower back, near the pelvis. I can repair it, but not without help. First I have to get free from this prison.'
“How do you know I won't kill you the instant we're free?”
'You're an honorable person, human. If we agree to one, you'll honor a short truce. For twenty-four hours after we help each other get out of here, we won't attack each other. Do you agree, human?'
“I can only agree for myself, animal.”
'You command the Eastern Armed Forces, human. You can command them to retreat. The more you prolong our bargaining, the longer we stay.'
'One stipulation, animal: That you help me pull out any survivors trapped in the rubble as we are.'
'No one else survived, human.'
'Eh? If we survived, others surely did.'
'No, human. Look below, and let go of my throat.'
His hand was full of fur. Letting go, he cast below, looking for a spark of life amidst the rubble. He found none.
'We were near the top, above the other warriors on the stairwell,' she said. 'None of them had a talisman to protect them.'
Guarding Bear remembered the gold pendant around his neck.
'Thankfully, your determination to kill me was strong. Even after that chunk of stone knocked you unconscious, you didn't let go of my throat. The physical contact extended the range of the talisman to include me. Hungry Pirhana builds very good talismans.'
'How do you know he built it?'
'I recognize his signature from the talisman—his circuits are very inventive,' the tiger said. 'So, human, which? Help me or die with me.'
'Why don't you dig yourself out?' Guarding Bear asked. 'You're a Wizard of a hundred talents, aren't you?'
'Indeed, of all talents except the one that I most need here. I don't have any chemathonic talents, human.'
'What about the warriors still in the fortress? The ones who survived the earthquake?'
'I think they're capable of leaving under their own power.' The tiger chuckled.
“You won't attack them?”
'Not if you order a retreat, human, no.'
Guarding Bear sighed, pain fogging his brain. “How am I supposed to help you? I don't have any chemathonic talent either.”
'And little original power, I hear. Your wild talent is flexible enough to harness any energy I supply, eh? Alone, neither of us can get out. Together, we both can.'
Sighing again, Guarding Bear struggled with the decision. If I wait long enough, warriors might still have time to kill Scowling Tiger, he thought. By then—
'By then you'll be dead, human,' she said, listening in on his thoughts. 'So probably will I.'
When the avenger died exacting vengeance, the offense remained unredressed. If he died trying to kill Scowling Tiger, his vengeance would've been for naught. Weariness settled upon him.
Although he'd never wanted the feud in the first place, he'd never avoided an opportunity for retaliation. Now, wanting the feud to end, he wanted to live past its end as well.
'All right, animal,' sent the General Guarding Bear.
* * *
Panting and sweating, he heard them getting closer. The dull clunk of stone penetrated the rubble piled outside the small cave. The air inside was thick with rock dust and carbon dioxide—and the smell of fear.
Leaping Elk, Fawning Elk and their infant son had been in the birthing room for more than two hours, trapped.
At first scared, they felt confident the others would dig them out soon. When help didn't arrive immediately, they discussed the situation calmly. They had no food and no direct source of air. Gaps in stone piled outside the door allowed meager amounts of air through. The door opened outward; tons of stone wedged it shut. He tried to get the hinge pins out, but failed. We were fortunate the door held against rubble, he reflected. The electricity hadn't. The earthquake had thrown the small cave into pitch blackness. From his belt, Leaping Elk pulled a hand-held lantern and explored the room. Other than a pile of blankets and a few gallons of water, only they were in the cave.
“We should both meditate to reduce our oxygen intake,” he suggested.
She agreed.
Meditation also calmed their fears.
Every half hour or so, Fawning Elk emerged from her altered state to check on the baby. The boy seemed to know how valuable the oxygen was and didn't cry. About every hour, he fed contentedly, then went back to sleep.
As their confinement lengthened, Leaping Elk began to discuss their chances. “Two of us will survive on our limited supply of air much longer than three,” he said.
Fawning Elk refused to consider his idea that he fall on his knife to give her and the baby more air to breathe.
At some point, he noticed the rising temperature. “What does that mean?”
“Exhalation is the body's most efficient way of shedding heat,” Fawning Elk said. “Each breath increases the temperature. Our bodies are working harder to pull oxygen from the decreasing supply.”
An hour later, Leaping Elk heard something other than their rough breathing. The chink of metamorphic rock upon rock. His relief was profound. Then, the baby grew distressed and began to cry. The breast didn't quiet him, nor did rocking. Leaping Elk shone the lantern on the baby. His skin was bright red, the boy unable to get enough oxygen.
Again, they discussed their options. He still thought if he fell on his knife, she and the baby would live longer.
She vetoed the idea.
With loud crying, the baby objected too.
“I can give the baby enough oxygen. If I collect it in my lungs—and not let the cilia transfer it to my blood—I can breathe into the baby's mouth, eh?” he suggested.
She thought the idea good, but asked what he'd breathe.
“Carbon dioxide,” he replied, smiling.
Grudgingly, she agreed to his plan.
Soon the baby was quiet. In the silence they both noticed that the sounds of digging beyond the door were sporadic—not constant. “A lot of rock must have fallen from the ceiling.” He wondered how long they'd be in here.
Panting and sweating, their imprisonment having lasted almost three hours, Leaping Elk looked at his mate. “I wonder if the Lady Chemathon survived the earthquake.”
“Why don't you ask?” Fawning Elk said facetiously.
“Why don't I?”
“'Cause we're both pea-brained fools. Infinite blast us for being so stupid! Listen, my mate, those sounds we've been hearing? The bandits are cleaning out the rubble and don't even know we're here, eh? Feel the shields? They think we're dead under all the rubble but don't really know because the shields have concealed us this whole time. We've gasped and sweated for no good reason when we could have been out of here … What are you laughing at?”
“Us,” he replied, chuckling and pushing himself to his feet. If the earthquake cut power to the lights, he wondered, why are the shields still on? Batteries of course. Beside the door was the shield control panel. Shutting off the shields, Leaping Elk asked someone to send oxygen into the room immediately.
They felt the band's collective relief that they were alive.
Bandits dug with renewed fervor toward the door, fresh air entering the room. Leaping Elk finally knew they were safe. Sitting beside his mate, he put his arms around her, the baby snuggled to her breast.
“I feel good,” he said, “just to be alive.”
Smiling, Fawning Elk nodded with some sadness.
He knew she still grieved for the dead.
* * *
Several sets of hands helped him from the rubble. Standing on one leg, Guarding Bear balanced with telekinesis. “Now help the tiger out,” he instructed, his voice hoarse and subdued, the pain almost unbearable.
A moment later, they extrac
ted the animal from between two stone slabs. Behind her was the tunnel they'd molded through the rubble. Her injuries were worse than his, her spine shattered just above the sacrum. She held her hindquarters suspended, her ears plastered to her skull in pain and dismay.
“We just got here, Lord General,” Probing Gaze said. “We had to tunnel into the fortress again, then find a way down here.”
Guarding Bear nodded. “Order a retreat, Lord Gaze.”
“I already have, Lord General. None of our warriors had the heart to continue the slaughter after the earthquake. An avalanche almost buried base camp completely. We're still digging people out. Burrow Garrison collapsed too, Lord General. I don't even want to estimate the number of dead.”
A wave of agony and sorrow washed over Guarding Bear.
“Lord Bear, your leg!”
“Let's get out of here, Lord Gaze. Lend me your arm, eh?” Guarding Bear stanched the bleeding again. A pool had formed under his right foot. He avoided looking at the leg itself, knowing it a sickening sight.
Other warriors behind them, the sectathon helped him along a corridor riven with cracks, the tiger floating ahead. They ascended a stairwell, each step a nightmare of agony.
“Lord Spring,” Probing Gaze ordered. “Fetch a medacor, if you can find one. If not, anyone with some trace healing talent.”
“Yes, Lord Captain.” Ascending around them, the man disappeared.
“Medacors needed elsewhere,” Guarding Bear said, delirious, losing consciousness briefly.
Probing Gaze eased him to a step. “We're going to wait right here, Lord General.”
“How bad is my leg? Feels crushed, like a compound multiple fracture. Medacors needed elsewhere.” Consciousness swam in rough seas of pain, weary and exhausted, no land of healing in sight.
“Below the knee…” Probing Gaze shook his head. “Above the knee, the bone's intact. The flesh has only scrapes and bruises.”
“Anyone here a pyrathon?” Guarding Bear whispered.
A warrior stepped forward, bowing. “Yes, Lord General Bear.”
“What's your name, Lord?”
“Searing Flame, Lord General.”
“Lord Flame, I need you to cauterize the stump after the Lord Gaze cuts off my leg below the knee. Can you do it?”
“Lord, uh, I can. Uh, are you, uh, sure—”
“Look at it! Medacor's going to take it off anyway.”
The warrior nodded, swallowing his fear.
“Good, Lord Flame. Thank you. Let's get up to the next level first.” Guarding Bear struggled to stand, several sets of hands helping in the crowded stairwell. He resumed the grueling ascent, every step an agonizing ordeal. The tiger watched them from the level above. Finally, they reached the upper landing.
Guarding Bear looked at the tiger. “Why are you still here?”
'We can help each other again. You have a leg to heal. I have a spine. How flexible is your talent?'
He muttered an imprecation. “I don't know. I've never tried to heal anything with it. I might do more harm than good.”
'You do have a talent for that, don't you? It's not even a psychic talent. Are you willing to try anyway?' the tiger asked.
“You're funnier than a tom-cat with his penis stuck in a pussy!”
'I assure you, that's not very funny. I'm not your enemy, human. My mistress is your enemy only by the accident of her paternity.'
The tiger was deliberately reminding him who'd fathered her mistress. How did the tiger know that? Guarding Bear wondered, frowning. Shrugging, he said, “Let's try it. Who's first?”
'You. Ready?'
Guarding Bear nodded. Energy enveloped him. Harnessing it, his talent converted it into the hundreds of trace talents needed for healing. Heat infused his leg. He looked down. Discolorations blotched the skin, but most of the pain was gone and the leg looked whole. He eased his weight onto it. It held.
'My turn, human,' the tiger said.
Guarding Bear gestured. Energy swirled around him. Again he converted it and directed it at the tiger's hindquarters.
'Well done, human.' The tiger now stood on all fours. 'Not perfect, but adequate for a little mobility.'
“Good. Infinite desiccate your womb and abort your whelps.”
'And wilt your stalk and shrivel your sack, human. I truly hope we don't meet again. You're the second most disgusting creature I've ever met.' Turning, the tiger padded slowly up the stairs.
Chuckling, Guarding Bear limped toward the stairwell too. “Let's get out of here, eh Lords?” The leg didn't function perfectly, but it functioned. Slowly, the group ascended.
When they reached ground level, they joined the warriors retreating from the fortress. The tiger must have taken a different route up, Guarding Bear thought. “Scan the upper levels for warriors, Lord Gaze.”
Probing Gaze looked at the ceiling. “Only twenty-seven left, Lord General, and they're all coming down.”
“Good, and thank you for your help, Lord. Good work, men!” He gestured them to leave, staying there to greet the retreating warriors with encouragement and praise. Blood and dust covered most of the warriors. A few had injuries, but not bad ones.
When the last warrior passed him, Guarding Bear walked to the gaping hole in the side of the mountain. He looked back once more before he left the fortress.
Somewhere above him was his ancient enemy Scowling Tiger. During the ordeal through the rubble, Guarding Bear had given deep thought to his thirty-year feud with the bandit general. In the bowels of the mountain, in excruciating pain, the collapse of death impending above him, the General had reached a decision. Thirty years of thinking along set lines, of reaching the same undeniable conclusions, rebelled against his decision. Even so, rubble all around him, Guarding Bear knew he could step out of his uncompromising desire for Scowling Tiger's death.
He wanted their feud to end. Whether the bandit general also turned aside was immaterial. Looking up at a ceiling of stone, he smiled.
Infinite be with you, Scowling Tiger, thought Guarding Bear.
Chapter 24
Sleep refreshes the mind and recharges the psychic reserves. The need is inherent in our very neurology. Six senses we have, six ways we receive information. By the time we process the sensory input from one set of receptors, we fall behind in processing the other five. Since talent is a primary source, we rely heavily on psychic sensory data, often ignoring our other senses. While we have adapted some to this sensory overload, we cannot so completely adapt that we no longer need sleep. Every hundred years or so, someone decides to experiment. The result is always the same. The Wizard or Wizards who implant themselves not to sleep quickly develop a mental disorder, usually hallucinations, and certainly psychotic behavior.—Sleep: Who Needs It? by Hibernating Bear.
* * *
“All right, now, Flowering Pine. There's the crown. Not much farther. Push!” Shading Oak said. Supporting the exhausted woman, the Matriarch had her arm across her back and held up her leg.
The flame-haired woman cried out as the baby slid from her into Soothing Spirit's hands. Putting the boy in her arms, he closed his mind, expecting the psychic bestowal. The two Matriarchs closed theirs as well, having helped at many of their daughters' birthing beds.
Flowering Pine twitched and writhed, almost dropping the newborn. Her face changing, she closed her eyes. With a sharp nod, she bestowed half her reserve on the newborn boy. A contraction quickly followed. She bore the second twin so fast that Soothing Spirit lunged to catch him. Lifting the baby, umbilicus still attached, he placed him in his mother's arms. Again, she closed her eyes. Nodding, she bestowed upon the second twin the pulse of energy needed to awaken his talents.
Smiling, sniffling, Flowering Pine lay back, looking down at her sons. Then she fainted, the infants rolling from her arms. Bubbling Water caught one and Shading Oak the other. The two Matriarchs frowned at each other across the unconscious mother.
Dawn was an hour away.
; “Let's clean them up, Lady Oak,” Bubbling Water said. “The Lady Pine won't sleep long.”
Nodding, Shading Oak pinched off the umbilical cord and seared the end. Clearing mucus from the baby's mouth and nostrils, she inflated his lungs with a first breath. He cried weakly on the exhalation.
Bubbling Water's twin bawled on his.
“The Lady Pine has wet nurses ready, Ladies,” Soothing Spirit said. “Shall I have a servant find them? She might not wake up for awhile.”
The Matriarch Water looked at him, puzzled. “Why do you say that, Lord? Five hours of labor must have exhausted her.”
“True, Lady Matriarch, and she depleted her reserves in bestowal. I looked into the Lady Pine's medical history, though. She's subject to seizures, fainting spells, palsies and other neurological disorders. Since we can't probe her, we really don't know if the strain of childbirth aggravated her disorders. Did you see her face as she gave the first twin the psychic gift?”
Both women nodded. “She changed,” Shading Oak said, frowning.
“So we don't know how long she'll sleep,” Bubbling Water said. “Lord Spirit, can you duplicate the immunities usually found in colostrum?”
“Yes, Lady Water, I can. Good idea. She can try to breast-feed after she wakes. I pray the twins haven't become so accustomed to regular milk that they won't take her colostrum, eh?”
Nodding, Shading Oak looked at Bubbling Water, who also nodded.
“In the next room I have all the supplies. After the Lord Emperor, uh, moved the Lord Hawk, I turned the room into a temporary nursery. Whatever the twins might need is there.”
The two Matriarchs followed the Imperial Medacor from the private infirmary room. Spectators crowded the corridor leading to the next room. Everyone admired Flying Arrow's sons. What insipid sounds we make over babies, Bubbling Water thought, smiling.
“Please, everyone, move back to the main infirmary,” Soothing Spirit said. “Lord Sky, would you find the two wet nurses?”
“Yes, Lord Medacor,” said the assistant medacor Cloudy Sky.
In the second private infirmary room, Lurking Hawk's erstwhile cell, the Medacor dug into a cabinet. From it, he pulled out pairs of caps, nipples and graduated bottles. “I'll need some milk for a base. Lady Matriarch, I detect prolactin in your blood. Are you breastfeeding Rippling Water still?”
The Bandit (Fall of the Swords Book 2) Page 26
