Prosperine: The Adventures of the Space Heroine Hickory Lace: Books 1, 2 & 3 (The Prosperine Trilogy)

by PJ McDermott

  “Then Saurab is more stupid than I credited him. There’s no way the admiral would let these guys go free and risk the truth getting out.”

  Gareth’s eyes had remained on the floor all this time. Now he looked at Jakah while speaking to Hickory. “I feel sorry for him. Saurab did the only thing he could to save his friend. He wasn’t to know the admiral would betray him.”

  Hickory glared at him, her eyes blazing and her muscles rigid. “And what about the Teacher? He’s just an alien, dispensable. Is that it?”

  “Uh…Hickory,” said Jess.

  She turned on Jess, unable to control her emotions. “No! It’s not right. He’s the one in this whole shemozzle that deserves to live. He’s a decent person and can do more for this planet than a dozen admirals and High Reeves put together.”

  Jess rose and put her arms around Hickory. “It’s alright. Kar’s still alive. We all know what Saurab did was wrong, but he did it to try to save his friend. Now he’s failed, and I don’t believe there’s much future for either of them.” Her eyebrows knitted together. “I think he and Jakah are just pawns in the admiral’s game.”

  The anger faded from Hickory’s eyes. We’re all pawns in his game. She looked to the Dark Sun, sitting at the table with his head in his hands. “Jakah, I promise we’ll try to get you out of this mess.”

  “Saurab?”

  “Saurab, too.”

  Rescue

  Portus held his hand in the air. They had arrived at the entrance to the keep where the most dangerous criminals were held. An iron gate barred their way. A flickering light came from inside where two Erlachi guards sat at a table playing a board game with dice. The sound of laughter drifted out as one of the participants moved a wooden piece.

  “That’s two games to me and twenty krypos you owe me, Hector,” said the victor.

  “One more, then, Lykos. Double your money or lose it,” urged his opponent, emptying some coins from a pouch onto the table. He looked over Lykos’ shoulder and nodded briefly as he saw Portus signal to him. “I tell you what—why don’t we have some ale first? I happen to know there’s a very fine brew stored in the pantry. I’m sure they won’t miss a jar or two.” He stood up and his chair rattled on the stone floor. “You go and pour me one and I’ll set up the board, eh?”

  As soon as his partner had disappeared around the corner, Hector sped to the gate and unlocked the padlock. “Hurry, he’ll be back soon.”

  The gate squeaked as Portus pushed it open and the others filed through. Albetius paused a few moments to whisper some words of thanks to the guard and then followed the rest down the hallway.

  They passed some cell doors, half of which were occupied by drunkards and other low-risk miscreants who were being held overnight. At the end of the corridor, a stone spiral staircase led down to the lower levels holding the most dangerous criminals and political prisoners. They slipped past the entrances to the first two, each of which had two Erlachi guards watching over the prisoners.

  The third level was the basement. Portus sneaked a look through the doorway, then motioned the group to fall back. “Four guards in there,” he whispered, holding up four fingers and then one. “Only one of them guaranteed.”

  “Which one is ours?” said Albetius quietly.

  “He’ll reveal himself when you go in,” he said, then addressed the others. “Remember, you need to be quick and quiet. Otherwise, we’ll all end up down here.”

  Albetius discarded his cloak and took a deep breath. “Ready?” he asked.

  Hickory nodded.

  Albetius strode into the room.

  The guards stopped talking and stared stupidly at him.

  “Who…?”

  “It’s the king!”

  “What?”

  “It’s the king come to free us from the tyrant, Sequana.” The speaker moved backward, away from the other three.

  All stood frozen for a second. The corporal was the first to recover. “Traitor!” he shouted. He drew his sword and hacked at the loyal supporter. The stroke went clean through the guard’s chain mail vest and opened a gash in his chest. He slumped against the wall, a surprised look on his face, then collapsed to the ground.

  Hickory, Gareth, Jess, Jakah, and Portus all rushed in with drawn swords and took up position surrounding the three soldiers.

  “Put down your weapons, all of you, as you love your king,” commanded Albetius in a loud voice.

  One of the three hesitated, looked at his fallen comrade, cast aside his sword, and stooped to help him.

  The corporal and the fourth guard shouted an alarm, but their words were cut short as Gareth and Jess bounded forward and plunged their swords into their necks.

  Albetius knelt by the two loyal guards and comforted them. “You will both be rewarded when this fight is over and I am returned to the throne,” he said.

  “There are others here, imprisoned for their loyalty to the crown, Majesty,” said the injured soldier.

  Portus and Jakah, who were searching the cells, called out at the same time, “Here! Open this one!”

  Hickory retrieved the keys from the corporal’s belt and ran to open the doors. Saurab was first to emerge, blinded by the brightness of the guardroom. He put his hand up to his eyes, saw his partner, and beamed. “Jakah, thank the gods you’re alive.”

  Hickory unlocked the next cell door and peered inside. The Teacher lay on a rough bed of cane and straw matting. A strip of bloody cloth was wound around his waist, and his hands rested on his stomach. Hickory gave a small cry and dashed to his side. “Teacher?” She brought a shaky hand to her mouth.

  The naur’s eyes fluttered and then closed again. A faint smile played on his lips. “We meet again.” Hickory bent close to his mouth to hear the whisper. “Do not blame Saurab…he did this for love, not hate.”

  Jess, peering over Hickory’s shoulder, asked, “How is he? Is he alright?”

  Gareth removed the bandage from the wound and blanched. He pursed his lips. “We have to move him out of here and find medical help—straight away.”

  “He will die if we do,” said Hickory.

  “He will die if we don’t,” said Gareth.

  They lifted him, bed and all, into the light and Portus examined him. “He is weak, yes. But he may yet survive if we get him to a physician quickly. We must do what is necessary. Albetius and Jakah, you must lead us out. The guards on each floor will need to be dealt with quickly.”

  “There are loyal Erlachi on each level who must also be freed,” said Albetius.

  “Wait.” Saurab bundled his way forward, his face grim. “It is my fault you are here. I will deal with the guards.”

  “Pardon me, my friend, but you do not look strong enough,” said Albetius. “ Jakah and I will pay this debt on your behalf. You must help carry the Teacher.”

  Saurab, Hickory, Gareth, and Jess each took one corner of the makeshift stretcher and followed Portus.

  Albetius and Jakah dealt swiftly with the remaining guards on the next two levels, rendering them unconscious. After Portus had waved the bed past the doorway, Albetius freed the prisoners they found, political or otherwise. He opened the last door and was about to turn away when he heard a faltering voice.

  “My king. You have returned…”

  Forclav shuffled through the doorway, clothing in rags, dried blood on his face and his back hunched over.

  Albetius’ voice broke. “My friend, what have they done to you?”

  “I am alive, Majesty, which is more than can be said for many.” He stumbled forward. The King caught him and clasped him to his chest. “We will share many stories of these days in the years to come, old friend. Come.” He helped him over to Portus, who nodded and lifted Forclav’s arm over his shoulder.

  “They will all rally to my cause,” declared Albetius confidently.

  Even if they do not, they will keep the peacekeepers busy, thought Hickory.

  Hector greeted them at the top with the news that Lykos had ta
ken ill after consuming his second jar of ale and had gone home. He shrugged. “I thought it best he not be here when you returned. It is a temporary sickness. He will be well in the morning although he will have a painful headache.”

  The prisoners dispersed into the night with orders from Albetius to rouse friends and relatives and meet again at the city square an hour before dawn.

  They carried the Teacher and Forclav to Portus’ house and fetched a physician who cleaned and dressed their wounds. He placed a poultice of herbs, tree bark and wet bread over the gash in the Teacher’s side to help draw any infection.

  Hickory was gratified to see both patients open their eyes and thank them before falling into a deep sleep.

  The Sword of Connat

  Hickory and her team set out for the palace two hours before sunrise. A mist had descended, but still they kept to the shadows as they crept down alleyways and across lanes towards the king’s former residence. At this time of night, all should have been dark, and the streets should have been empty. However, lights could be seen behind many a curtain, and they spotted one group of heavily armed Erlachi silently scurrying towards the square.

  “I think the Pharlaxian is in for more than one surprise tonight,” whispered Jess.

  When they reached the palace precinct, the outer gates stood open and unguarded.

  “Long live the insurrection,” said Gareth, smiling grimly. They crept around the inside perimeter of the parade ground until they reached the gardens, and then crawled through the bushes to get to the palace wall.

  “Saurab, go check the left wing. See if you can find a way in. Jakah, you take the right. If you see anyone, don’t engage. Understand, Saurab? Do not engage,” said Hickory.

  Saurab returned a few minutes later. “There’s an open window about a hundred yards down. I climbed inside, and it’s an empty library.”

  Hickory unfolded the map of the palace interior that Albetius had drawn. The others crowded round as she pointed out the route. “The throne room is directly above the library. It will be heavily guarded. The residential area leads off that, in this part here. Got that? We won’t get a better opportunity.” She looked up at the rustle of some leaves. “Here’s Jakah now.” She went over the plan one more time and then said, “Good luck to everyone. Stay alive. Let’s move.”

  The library was dark but not so black that Hickory couldn’t see the body of the nauri lying in the corner. She glared at Saurab.

  He raised his shoulders and spread his hands in apology. “She objected to me borrowing a book. What could I do?”

  Hickory pressed her lips together and padded towards the door. It opened silently, admitting a shaft of light from the corridor outside. She poked her head through the gap and looked both ways. The hall was deserted. One by one, they came out of the library and flattened themselves against the wall. Won’t do us much good if anyone walks down this corridor unless they’re blind. They crept along the wall for twenty yards until they reached the main lobby. She could hear conversation float down from above. Nauris guards.

  An ornate staircase with rich red carpeting rose up to double doors outside the formal function room. From there, the staircase curved left and right, ascending to the third level and finishing in the atrium that provided access to the throne room itself. The most dangerous part of the climb, where they were more likely to be spotted, was just before to just after the function room doors.

  Hickory motioned for Jess, Gareth and Jakah to stay behind while she and Saurab crawled snake-like up the staircase.

  The muttering from above grew louder, and Hickory froze. She turned her head to look up, but saw no one and continued her interminable climb. When she reached what she had assessed as the danger point, she paused, her breath coming fast and her heart thumping in her chest. She looked behind her for Saurab and saw him grin at her. The idiot is actually enjoying this! Suddenly she had an uncontrollable urge to laugh. She turned away and forced herself to concentrate.

  She moved even more slowly until the head of a nauri came into view. The guard was leaning back against the balcony rail, facing away from her and talking to someone Hickory could not see. Hickory signaled for Jess, Gareth, and Jakah to come up behind Saurab.

  Silently, she progressed to the platform. Now she could plainly see the nauri at the railing. She was tall and athletic-looking. Her hair was pulled back from her forehead, and she had a sword and a knife in her belt. She was laughing at something one of the other guards had said.

  Hickory quickly covered the last few yards to reach the blind spot and waited until Saurab arrived. “How many?” she mimed.

  He shrugged and held up three fingers, then five, then ten.

  I hope the hell it’s not ten. She started on the final leg of her journey to the atrium, crouching against the wall until there were only a few steps left to the top. Saurab tapped her on the leg. When she turned, she saw that the others had crossed the platform and were now lined up behind Saurab. She nodded.

  Perspiration covered her face, and she left damp marks on the steps where she had placed her hands. She wiped them dry on her tunic. She would need a firm grip on her sword.

  She reached the final step and stole a quick glance with one eye. She signaled with her hand to Saurab. Four. There were three leaning casually against the double doors, along with the one at the railing. She raised her thumb to those behind her. Ready. She signaled four fingers, three, two, one, and leaped to her feet, the others quickly behind her.

  It took a second for their presence to register with the nauris and another for them to react. By the time they had shouted an alarm and drawn their swords, Hickory and Saurab were among them, slashing and cutting and creating havoc. The other three arrived, and for a moment they held the advantage until two more nauris bounded up the staircase, responding to the call for help.

  “Hickory!” yelled Gareth as he forced one nauri back to the balcony. “You need to go get the Sword!”

  Hickory looked around frantically. There were six nauris to contend with. If she left them, they would be severely outnumbered.

  “Go!” yelled Saurab as he parried a thrust from his antagonist.

  Hickory pushed hard at her opponent and nicked her on the leg. That’ll slow her down. Then she broke away and pushed through the throne room doors and shut them behind her. She found two chairs and jammed them against the handles. Even if Saurab and the others can’t hold them off, it should give me a little time.

  A scream penetrated the room, and Hickory felt a cold chill go down her back. That sounded like Jess. She was tempted to return to the fray but knew she had to go on. She gritted her teeth and ran across the room. The entry to the private apartment was behind the throne.

  Hickory pulled aside the curtain covering the door and turned the handle.

  Sequana sat on the edge of the bed facing her. His head was bowed and his hands gripped the sword of Connat. Blood flowed down its length and pooled about the point, which rested on the floor. His face was grimy and bloody, his feathery hair plastered to his head and his long black cloak crumpled and soiled. Three of his personal guard lay dead on the floor in front of him.

  He shifted his gaze from the dead nauris to Hickory. His eyes were red-rimmed and narrow. They gleamed with barely suppressed excitement and anticipation.

  They were the eyes of a madman.

  Hickory gasped. Her legs felt as if they were anchored by blocks of stone.

  Sequana’s lips parted and a ferocious snarl emerged. “Hickory Lace—have you come to pay homage?”

  Adrenaline flooded through Hickory and she stepped forward, raising her sword in both hands, preparing to fight.

  “I have come to retrieve the Sword, Sequana. To return it to its rightful position in the temple of Balor.”

  Sequana’s face was suffused with anger. “You dare! The Sword is mine by right of conquest. I will not let it go.”

  “You stole it after you lost the battle, you did not win it in combat.” S
he held her voice steady, even though she could feel the blood pumping through her veins.

  “It is mine, I tell you. It speaks to me, and I to it. We are a marvelous weapon. None can stand against us.” His eyes strayed to the nauris and the glitter was supplanted by pain. “These were the best of the best, but they wanted to take my Sword away. Ha!”

  The naur had killed his own, probably because they tried to save him from this madness, but she had to try to talk him into surrendering the Sword. “You would do well to lay down the blade. It has affected your mind, but it is possible you may yet recover if you give it up.” She didn’t really think so. According to Connat’s own words, the Sword possessed a quality that magnified the strengths and weaknesses of the bearer. Connat had also written that the Sword had spoken to her and it had taken a massive effort of will to resist the lure of its promises. The Pharlaxian had been with the Sword too long, and with each barbaric act, the Sword had strengthened that piece of him, which in the end had led to this.

  Sequana inclined his head and seemed to consider her words. His face reflected an internal battle, one he was always destined to lose. The Sword knew his weaknesses too well. He scowled at her and rose from the bed. “You will not take my Sword, Earth woman, but you will feel its power.” He raised the weapon high and brought it crashing down, missing Hickory and shattering the chest beside her.

  Hickory fell back and Sequana followed, swinging the Sword in an arc, left to right. It slit Hickory’s tunic and she felt it scratch her waist. He lunged at her and she deflected his thrust with a sharp strike of her blade. He countered by forcing her weapon back with his guard. She smelled his sour breath as he butted her with his head.

  She fell to the ground, momentarily stunned.

  He stood over her, a wicked grin on his face. “You are no match for me, Earth woman. Prepare to die.” He raised the Sword and brought it down ferociously. Hickory raised her own blade defensively, and the Sword smashed into hers, numbing her arm. Connat’s Sword slid down and cut into her thigh. She rolled to one side, leaped to her feet, and hopped backward, favoring her wounded leg. The blood gushed from the cut, and Hickory thought an artery might have been severed, but the flow stopped to a trickle although the pain remained.