With difficulty, Mike looped his arm around her waist. “You allowed him to die the way he wanted, as a warrior in battle, saving all of us. Death by poison arrow would have been agonizing, drawn out.” He struggled for air. “No dignity.”
“Orders, sir?” Everett said, sliding the last few feet to take shelter behind the boulders with them.
“You can’t travel, Mike.” Johnny’s voice was tight, betraying his worry. “We can’t move you, likely you punctured a lung in the fall, given the symptoms. And I’ve got no meds.”
Through a haze of pain, Mike glanced at the terrain beyond the jumbled boulders providing them temporary shelter. “Bring the drone in here, probably enough clearance. Keep a sharp watch. There could be roving patrols.”
“Or more villagers,” Johnny added. “Plenty of tracks in the loose soil along the stream, as if regular traffic goes through here.”
“Just our luck on this damn mission,” Mike said. His chest was tight. He couldn’t draw in enough air no matter what he did, and the pain on each inhalation was crippling. Lack of oxygen in his bloodstream was making him lightheaded.
Everett was checking his blaster charge, lips compressed in a tight line. “Call the drone?”
“Right. Don’t need fastlink, set it to respond to my com when I was in the flow two days ago.” Mike tried to unfasten the small pocket on his lower pants leg where the com unit was, but couldn’t make his hand stop trembling. Reaching over, Johnny fished the small device out, closing Mike’s fingers around it.
Shutting his eyes, he concentrated on pushing the pain away so he could send the drone a clear signal. Activating the com, Mike let the unit carry his mental command through the atmosphere, to the waiting roboship. The first attempt failed. Opening his eyes, Mike licked his lips. “Give me a minute.”
“How about a sip of water, from the stream?” Shalira asked.
Half-raising one hand, Johnny shook his head. “Bad idea. He’s got serious internal injuries.”
“Oh.” She subsided, glancing at Mike with obvious concern.
He didn’t have the energy to spare for reassuring her or telling her any lies about how great he felt. It was more important to call in the drone that would ultimately save her life. Allowing his head to fall back into her lap, he keyed the com one more time and sent the most basic signal he could, as hard as he could, against the blackness and the headache threatening to overwhelm him. The acknowledgment from the AI on the roboship reverberated in his head and he let the com fall to the ground. “The drone’s coming.”
“Well, all right, situation is improving,” Johnny said with obviously forced good cheer. He retrieved the com unit and shoved it into his own pocket. “You rest till it gets here. Everett and I’ve got the guard duty.”
“Yeah, good plan.” Mike licked his dry lips and stopped trying to stay alert, now that his one vital task was accomplished. He stared at Shalira leaning over him until the blackness closed in and he passed out.
She choked back a cry of protest as Mike lost consciousness. Johnny did a rapid check as best he could without his medical supplies. Shalira could tell from the grim expression on the sergeant’s face that the situation wasn’t good despite his attempt to be positive. His frown told the tale.
“As long as we get him to the roboship pretty soon, he’ll be okay. I can stabilize him in the sick bay and when we transfer to the Andy, the ship’s doc will slide him into the rejuve regenerator. He’ll be good as new.”
“Really? I only want the truth,” she warned.
“I wouldn’t lie to you, princess.” Johnny squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not great, but it’s not hopeless, either. We’ve both come back from worse injuries than this. Mike’s tough. The Sectors rejuvenation technology works miracles.”
“How long before this drone arrives?” She stared at the clear blue sky.
Checking his wrist chrono, Johnny gave her a crisp answer. “Twenty minutes.”
“Is there anything we can do for him in the meantime?” Mike was pale and he was barely breathing. There must be something.
The sergeant shook his head. “Probably best he’s unconscious right now. No matter how carefully we carry him to the drone it’ll jostle his ribs.”
Holding the major’s limp hand in hers, Shalira nodded.
“We can’t ever catch a break on this damn planet,” Everett said. Crouching lower, he pointed with his blaster. “Here comes the canyon patrol.”
“If we stay quiet, maybe they’ll ride on by and never know we’re here,” Johnny whispered.
“Won’t the drone landing scare them away?” Shalira asked, putting her lips next to his ear as a party of three riders and ten foot soldiers proceeded along the stream, a few yards from where they crouched.
He didn’t take his attention off the enemy. “On any reasonable planet. The way our luck has been running on your world? Anyone’s guess.” He didn’t sound hopeful. She sidled away, moving to the rear, to give Johnny and Everett room to fight.
Out in the canyon, the soldier in the lead came to a halt, squatting and examining the ground. The rest of the column stopped. Their discipline wasn’t very good as the men milled around, disturbing the sandy soil until an officer shouted an order.
“Damn, we should have erased the tracks,” Johnny said, as the point man gestured in their direction. “We’re practically out of charges and ammo.”
“Might have been more suspicious to have no tracks at all, as marked up as this area was. Don’t second guess yourself, sergeant.” Everett squared his shoulders. “We’re not likely to prevail in hand-to-hand combat, not with these odds, but I’m not going out easy, not today.”
“Your Highness, stay down,” Johnny said over his shoulder. “If we can hold them off for twenty minutes we might make it.”
The officer in charge of the patrol was staring in their direction, eyes narrowed. He said something to his companions, and a soldier took a large shell horn from his belt, blowing three blasts.
“Calling for help? From where?” Johnny reconnoitered.
“Maybe there’s a secret path from the plateau,” Everett said. “Or reinforcemnts farther down the canyon.”
The soldiers were dispersing in an organized manner, apparently planning to outflank the hidden escapees. With a shudder, Shalira realized the strategy was probably going to work, since their only defense was the thin ring of boulders at the cavern’s entrance.
The officer shouted in their direction, his gaze sweeping over the rocks, obviously searching for them.
Maintaining his unbroken surveillance, Johnny asked, “What did he say?”
“I’ve no idea,” Shalira told Johnny. “I don’t speak his language.”
“Suggesting we give ourselves up,” Everett said. “I have enough words to know that.”
“Which we ain’t doing.” Johnny fired a targeted round, killing the enemy officer, who toppled from his horse. Shrugging, he said, “They know we’re here, obviously, figured I might as well induce a bit of fear in the ranks over there.”
Temporary chaos was taking hold, as the remaining soldiers scrambled for cover on the other side of the stream. “Bought us a few minutes, while they regroup,” he said with satisfaction. His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he checked the remaining charge in the blaster. “They rush us, or get reinforcements before the drone arrives, we’re not getting out of here.”
“Yeah, we need some heavy duty firepower or more explosives,” Everett agreed.
Shalira felt a cold breeze on the back of her neck. Next moment she had the sensation someone whispered her name. She glanced at Mike, but he remained unconscious. Half turning, she scanned the cave stretching behind her, wondering if there was an exit. Not that they could leave, with the drone on its way to them, but neither did she want to be surprised by an attack from the rear.
Blinking, she realized her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her - there was a glow in the gloomy recesses of the cave. Rising to her feet, she
crept cautiously toward the light. Behind her she heard Johnny say something but her ears were full of the whispering she’d heard before, in the chamber with the giant statue of Tlazomiccuhtli. Goosebumps made her skin crawl as she came around the last rocky outcrop and confronted another effigy of the Nathlemeru deity. The voice in her head grew louder, and there was harsh, triumphant laughter.
Closing her eyes, the only defense she knew, she tried to back away but felt as if she was standing in glue. She caught her balance with an effort as she tripped over loose stones.
You are mine, little oracle. And I will have the heart of your warrior, as I was promised by Ishtananga before he died. And I’ll loose the cherindors in your family’s precious scepter on all who oppose me.
“No!” She screamed her protest out loud. Blinking, she stared at the statue, which was about eight feet tall, semidetached from the cave wall. The sculptor had made this representation of Tlazomiccuhtli somewhat less graphic than the one in the main temple in the plateau above but the effect remained horrific. She saw bleached human bones lying on the ground around the statue. Apparently the Nathlemeru conducted sacrifices here on occasion as well. Bad luck had drawn them into another place of its influence over humans. Voice trembling, she tried to deny the reality. “You have no power over us.”
But I do. Your goddess owes me. And through his fears, one of your companions has given me mastery over him. Watch.
She heard Everett yelling and next moment Johnny came walking past her, blaster in his hand but aimed at the cave floor. His face was slack, as if he was asleep. He stumbled over the cave floor, dropping the outworld weapon. As he headed toward the statue, one hand fumbled with his belt knife. Horrified, unsure if Tlazomiccuhtli was going to try to make the soldier kill himself or her, or even Mike, helplessly comatose in the cave entry, Shalira grabbed the sergeant’s arm as he shuffled past.
“Johnny, you have to fight this off,” she hissed.
He stopped walking but the moment she moved her hand away, he lifted one foot to take the next step. Wondering where Everett was and why he didn’t come to investigate, she snagged the back of Johnny’s shirt and he paused again.
Red snakes of light had materialized from thin air and were writhing around the statue of Tlazomiccuhtli, becoming more and more solid, developing eyes and mouths. She wished she could close her eyes again rather than look at them but was afraid of what might happen if she cowered like a child.
“My goddess owes you nothing, and neither do I,” she said. “You have no power over me.”
Wait until you’re in the grip of my servants, wait until I touch you myself and then tell me I have no power. Perhaps I’ll make you sacrifice your warrior to me yourself. How much you humans have forgotten in the millennia since the world began. The cherindors were my dogs of war originally, until your ancestors won their loyalty with the help of ten treacherous gods. Pavrimaia was my lover in the days of chaos, before your puny race arose.
“I refuse to believe anything you claim.” Shalira got a better grip on Johnny’s shirt, trying to pull him back a few steps, away from the enemy.
Believe or not, it’s true. We divided the world, she and I, blood and war versus peace and love, with the river as our boundary. But she promised me oracles who could speak to both of us, carry our commands and desires to those who worshipped us. And you are the most important one, the one of royal blood, the one the spirits of the last remaining cherindors reached out to. I must have you. I’ve waited a long time for you to come.
“If I surrender to you, will you let the soldiers go?”
“Shalira, no!” Mike was there, white faced, staggering, leaning on a stalagmite, blaster in hand. Clearly he’d expended every ounce of his remaining strength to come to her aid. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Stay back,” she said, putting out her free hand as if to block him. “Tlazomiccuhtli’s trying to ensnare us all to our doom.”
“Fuck that.” With a shaking hand he raised his blaster and shot the effigy in the middle of the forehead.
Even as the sizzling energy hit the stone, the swarming red snakes flew to absorb the fire, growing in size as they took in the offworld power.
Clutching his ribs, Mike sank to one knee.
Shalira pulled the scepter from her belt. Hadn’t she boasted to Mike a few days ago how she could channel the old powers? Even the enemy admitted the scepter was a thing of power. She shook off the memory of what she’d been shown – the last emperor to venture into the Djeelaba taken prisoner carrying this very symbol, dying a terrible death on the Nathlemeru altar. The scepter hadn’t helped him. Maybe the power of the old legends was exhausted? Cradling the scepter in her hands, she stared into the depths of the huge purple gem. Deep in the facets, tiny red and blue sparks whirled. She tried to summon the attention of the entity she believed dwelt within. “You need to help us if you don’t want to return to Nathlemeru hands, owned by their god,” she whispered.
The sparks twirled faster inside the stone but Shalira didn’t detect any response.
Risking a quick glance at the idol in the grip of the red snakes, she saw the deity was still fighting to become a physical presence in the cavern. She didn’t have much time before she’d be confronting Tlazomiccuhtli in all his might. Refusing to admit defeat, she tried channeling the cherindor power again. “Why are you hesitating?” she whispered. “We’ll be dead and you’ll be recaptured.” In sheer frustration she gave the scepter a shake. “No one else of my bloodline will ever venture here. I’m your last chance.”
A different voice resonated in her head now, rough, a growl. Are you worthy?
In her mind’s eye, she saw the vision of her ancestor’s last moments replaying, as he wept, on his knees, begging for his life, betraying his own men, giving up the scepter, all in a futile effort to avoid death on the Nathlemeru altar.
We refused to help him, said the cherindor’s voice. Greedy. Weak. Unfit to rule. Unfit to command powers like ours.
“But then you were trapped here.”
Silence from the cherindor scepter for a moment. Are you worthy? The question came reverberating through her head with weary doubt.
She wondered what answer the spirit of the scepter would accept, even as she could tell from the shouts of the enemy and the cursing from Everett at the entrance that a final assault on their inadequate defenses must have been launched. Trying to keep her voice from shaking, Shalira said, “I’m the Princess of Shadows in this time, the last person alive who can channel the powers you draw from.”
Princess of Shadows? A strange title to claim, if what you wish is to wield my powers.
Anger burning in her veins at the entity’s mocking tone and hesitation to help her, she said, “Very well then I’m the Empress of Mahjundar at this moment, with you in my hands and I command you to help me save my warriors.”
The giant gemstone grew hot under her palms, but Shalira bit her lip and hung on. A wind rose inside the cave, swirling the dust, keening through the boulders. She concentrated on trying to harness the power, shape the energy into a weapon to launch at their enemy, hopefully with more effect than the Sectors’ blasters.
There was the boom of a small explosion.
Shielding his eyes as if by reflex, Johnny cursed. “What the hell?”
A wall of translucent purple light now stood between her and Tlazomiccuhtli, stretching from wall to wall of the cavern. Like an uncanny spider web, strands composed of motes of light emanated from the stone in the scepter.
The spirit of your cherindors can’t defeat me. The ancient god’s voice in her head was derisive, amused. The red snakes began writhing their way down the statue’s body. “You’ll all die here. The power imbued with the stone can only delay me, never defeat me.” The deity’s voice had become audible, not just in her head. With horror, she saw a faint image of Tlazomiccuhtli standing in front of the stone statue, becoming more solid by the second. The snakes latched onto the shadowy version
of the god as if feeding him their energy.
How am I going to do battle with a god? Shalira got a better grip on the remnant of the scepter’s staff. She risked a quick glance at her two companions. Mike was slumped on the rocky ground, unconscious again and Johnny crouched beside him, seemingly dazed but at least not taking any action to harm either himself or his cousin. She heard the whine of a blaster from the entrance and knew Everett was keeping the human enemies at bay. The other fight, it seemed, was up to her.
Tlazomiccuhtli straightened, hands on hips, drawing in a gusty breath as the red snakes, now pale and thin, withered and fell away to writhe on the cavern floor. “Victory shall be mine, Oracle. First you feed me your life and power, then the warriors die, after which I’ll direct my Nathlemeru to take up arms against the people on the other side of the river. Your goddess and her kin have withdrawn, no longer worshipped or even recognized. Which leaves a void for me to step into at long last.”
Cracks began to form in the sheet of purple illumination between Shalira and the deity. Sections of the light sizzled and vanished. It wouldn’t be more than a moment or two before Tlazomiccuhtli could touch her.
A fleeting thought crossed her mind. She wondered how well Empress Maralika’s strange new pantheon of gods would fare against this monster from before time. Cupping her locket in her free hand, Shalira rolled her shoulders, attempting to channel whatever power the scepter could or would feed her. “You have to get past me first and in this moment, I’m the Empress and Defender of Mahjundar.” Claiming the titles felt right but it was sheer bravado and she knew it. “I call on Pavmiraia to help me.”
A cool breeze, smelling of the lowland flowers, blasted through the cavern.
“I stand at your side,” said a new voice.
Nearly dropping the scepter, Shalira realized the goddess had joined them.
The newcomer put her hand over Shalira’s on the half destroyed shaft of the royal insignia. The goddess’s touch was cold but tingling energy flowed into the princess, making her giddy, making her feel as powerful as if she were ten feet tall, with strength to match.
Mission To Mahjundar (A Sectors SF Romance) Page 28
