The Fireborn Chronicles

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The Fireborn Chronicles Page 20

by Mary Andrews

Rael grinned. “I knew you'd get the hang of it. Do whatever you need to do, but get him here in person.” He pointed toward the com switch.

  “You sure he's still there?” Mallory asked.

  “I know he is."

  Mallory allowed a big smile to spread across his face. “This is going to be fun.” He reached for the com switch and then paused. “What do I get from this—assuming I survive, of course?"

  “Whatever you can take and hold, but know that I will be watching what you do with it, so you'll have to fly straight from now on."

  Mallory glanced over at Tristen again. “What a find you turned out to be, my little one.” He snapped his fingers, beckoning her to stand closer. Ira bristled; Mallory snickered, and Rael shook his head. The com switched on.

  Harbringer glared from the screen before speaking. “Mallory Switt,” he began in a slow controlled voice. “It seems that you have been trying to get my attention for the last couple weeks, or have you just refined your death wish of late?"

  Mallory sat undaunted as he waited for Harbringer to notice Tristen standing behind him. “Ah, I see you've noticed my lovely slave.” He reached back and took her hand into his. “She has only just returned to me—poor thing.” He kissed her hand gently. “I don't know how your minions managed to lose her, but she's proven to be most resourceful.” He released Tristen and turned his full attention to the screen. “In fact, she has brought an even more amazing man into my service. He simply glows when he works and, as you've seen, he sure can stir things up—major league devilment wouldn't you say?"

  Unexpectedly, Harbringer smiled. “You have Commander Pointe?"

  “Yes, and we've had great fun examining his potential, but sadly, I've come to realize that this is just out of my league. Sooner or later, there's got to be Gov intervention, and I couldn't survive it ... but you can. So here's the deal. You give me this one little planet, and I'll give you the universe.” Mallory grinned. “Hard to beat a deal like that."

  “I guess it's only fitting that you be saddled with cleaning up the mess you've made there any way.” Harbringer nodded thoughtfully. “Done. I'll have all the documents drawn up and arrive to transfer properties within the week or so. I will contact you with specifics when the time comes. Mind that you keep my property safe."

  The screen darkened and retracted into the desk. Mallory sat silently staring at where it had been a moment before. “Well, that was fun.” He leaned back into his seat and sighed. “But you realize that he can afford the best assassins in the universe."

  Rael laughed out loud. “Quite the contrary, Mallory you'll never be safer than right now. Nobody would dare touch you for fear of losing me. Besides, he probably wants to kill you himself when he gets here anyway."

  “Guess you're right, but if I survive I'm set for life. I can't wait to see how this turns out.” He turned his thoughts to Tristen. You've always brought me luck, little one.

  Not always, Ira interjected.

  Rael measured the room's silence. “You know this is why telepaths are not invited to parties.” All three of them turned toward him.

  “How do you know we were speaking?” Mallory asked.

  “Tristen, was there a dialog?” Rael asked.

  Yes, sir.

  “Tristen told me. I hope you're not bickering though, because you've got three days tops to effectively learn how to defend yourselves as a unit.” He gave them a moment of silence to let it sink in before continuing, “Well, I think I'm going to clean up a bit and then maybe try to track his progress while I monitor incoming flights. Don't disturb me unless it's important. Laynald's handling local reconnaissance and he'll give you a heads up if anything looks suspicious. Any questions before I go?” They remained silent, so he left.

  He's right, Tristen thought to them. Mallory, we share a history that Ira does not appreciate. You should not taunt him. It is dangerous. Mallory did not reply but he watched her cross the room to sit next to Ira on a couch. And you, Ira, have to learn the difference between a conflict of opinion, a battle of wills and a matter of fact. Mallory is who and what he is. We cannot change his integral self. Only he can do that. We can force our thoughts on another but not our wills.

  Ira looked at her knowingly. I can.

  But you haven't. You know it's not safe to alter that deeply.

  Ira shrugged. “We are assigned to capture Harbringer. Mr. Switt is ordered to assist us. Nothing more or less, is necessary.” He stared at Mallory pointedly.

  Mallory nodded his agreement. “No problem here. What do you want from me?"

  How would you defend against him? Tristen asked.

  “I'd step out of his way,” Mallory stated flatly. “Remember those body guards of his?” He turned to Tristen. “There was something unnatural about them. They were big men, but I never saw them coming, and their presence felt ... cold."

  I can shield from them, Tristen added, but they'll just go physical, and I'm afraid they'll want to take Ira out the minute they see him.

  “They'd be stupid if they didn't,” Ira agreed.

  Mallory stared at Tristen for an uncomfortably long time. “I held you back last time, didn't I, little one?” Tristen nodded. “Could you have taken them?"

  Possibly, but I don't think they'll give me much of a chance now, and we still don't know what Harbringer is capable of doing.

  Ira sat quietly in thought. “Do we have anything that belongs to him here? Like any personal possession—something that he has touched or held?"

  Mallory thought for a moment and then pulled open a desk drawer and began to shuffle through it until he found an envelope. “Here it is.” He withdrew a small metal card and tossed it across the desk toward Ira. “How about a business card? After our little ‘discussion’ last time, he threw this on my desk and walked out. I've had it in my briefcase for quite a while now. I didn't really have much desire to ever call the bastard back, but you never can tell...."

  Ira looked down at the card. “Where does he carry his cards?"

  “Breast pocket, of course, in a really nice metal case—looked really expensive. You know how those Corporate Warlords are."

  Tristen crossed by the desk, retrieving the card, and sat next to Ira on the couch again.

  “Seal the doors and stay put,” Ira said. “If anything happens, do not touch me. Call the commander.” He looked to Tristen. Do not follow me. You will feel the draw, but stay separate from me. Keep your distance. He looked down to the fine metal card. It was paper thin with touch-activated information. Its tiny letters glowed in Tristen's hand. Ira smiled to himself. It was a good thing that Harbringer was so rich. Electronics and metals were the best conductors and had excellent memories. He could not have asked for much better.

  He slipped off a glove and took the card from Tristen's hand. She stood up and moved away from him as he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Soon only the sound of his beating heart filled his senses and shifting his sight, he opened his eyes again. With the little card shimmering and pulsing in his hand, Ira concentrated and watched as the elemental signature patterns became apparent. The metal held one pattern and the electronics another and layered over them—like fingerprints—he discerned the shadowy frequencies of living beings. He sought out the strongest of them and smiled. Yes, that's the one. Immersing into it, he phased, and matching it completely, he allowed himself to lift away ... float freely ... away from where he was ... toward its echoing source. It drew him as sure as a magnet draws steel. Oblivious to distances, sooner or later, like-unto-like was inevitable. He longed for it, searching for what seemed like an eternity until suddenly, he was there.

  * * * *

  He heads toward the exit ... it looks like a cargo bay; boxes, crates, equipment all secured to the floor and walls. It is a ship. Up ahead, the bay door slides open. Two of his platinum-haired bodyguards wait on the ramps below. They are always alert. They are scanning at all times. Two more are flanking him. They leave the ship, moving as a unit with no wo
rds exchanged. With a quickening pace, they set out through the market district—six guards in all. Soon four of them fan out, moving invisibly among the crowds while the other two provide escort for Harbringer.

  * * * *

  Ira fled Harbringer's form and raced back to the shifting astral plane with its multitude of resonant trail lines. Resuming his own form, he returned to where he had started. His eyes opened again to Tristen's worried face.

  Are you all right? she asked him.

  He's here! Still reeling from his sojourn, Ira stumbled to his feet and rushed to the inner chamber doorway. “Rael, Rael!” He threw it open. “He's here!"

  Temple plates glowing, Rael looked up toward Ira. The flickering slowed and then finally stopped. “What's wrong Ira?"

  “Harbringer's here! He's in the marketplace on his way here now. I recognized the marketplace. Tell Laynald. Hurry! He has an escort of six guards; two visibly with him and four shadows. They are all powerfully built, long white overcoats. They have platinum hair tied back in corporate style. They are a telepathic unit of some sort—very, very tight."

  “Are you sure, Ira?” Rael began. “I've been monitoring travel plans and listings."

  “He knew you would, but he didn't expect me to ‘seek’ him out. Maybe he doesn't know what I can do. But I ‘saw’ him leaving his ship and heading this way. He may have routed his message to come from space, but he is already here."

  Rael's temple plates glimmered. “Laynald's been warned.” He looked past Ira to where Tristen and Mallory stood watching. “I hope you all got your game up. I'll stay in here and monitor the room. If you can't control or kill him, I'll broadcast a signal that should disrupt his telepaths. I know it won't do you much good, but at least you'll be expecting it. I'm going to talk to Laynald real quick here so you might want to pull that door shut some to shield from my signal.” He smiled. “I know you're all probably well on your way to a headache anyway by now.” He waved them on. They closed the door behind them.

  Mallory headed straight back to his desk, dropped into the chair and began rummaging through one of the drawers.

  Ira and Tristen followed him but did not take seats. “Ok, we are out of time now,” Ira was saying. “Harbringer should be here in less than fifteen minutes. If anybody's got any ideas, now would be the time to share them."

  Mallory looked first to Ira. “Nothing?” then to Tristen, “If he walks in and sees the two of you, he would be stupid not to put you both out of commission first and sort things out later, and if either of you falls, you both fall, right?"

  Tristen nodded.

  He reached into the open drawer and pulled out a slave collar and tossed it across the desk to her. “Do you trust me, little one?"

  She picked it up and examined it distastefully. What are you thinking of doing?

  Mallory's attention turned to the door. Too late; put it on; they are here! He motioned for them to take their posts against the wall behind his desk and started toward the door. Ira slipped on his dark glasses, grimacing at the sight of Tristen wearing Mallory's collar again. Mallory paused before the door and looked back at them, follow my lead and take your best shot.

  Mallory opened the door to find Harbringer poised to knock. “Mr. Harbringer?” Mallory backed away as two bodyguards pressed their way in. “What a surprise!"

  “Apparently not.” The rest of the entourage pushed into the room and toward Tristen and Ira. Both of Harbringer's initial guards stepped aside to allow him clear passage to the chair before the desk. He seated himself there comfortably, focusing his attention across the desk on Tristen. “So you've come to me at last,” he said to her. “Where is your target? Where is Commander Pointe?"

  He is in the next room, Overlord.

  “Summon him to me now. I'll wait."

  Tristen sent the call, not certain that Rael would actually receive it from the other room.

  He's watching us on the surveillance cams, Ira reminded her.

  The door slid open. Rael entered, seemingly oblivious to everyone in the room except Tristen. He approached her with a fervor that put Ira on edge.

  She waited until he stood before her. She smiled at him kindly and touching his shoulder, turned him to face Harbringer. This is your master now. She stepped away from Rael and nodded to Harbringer.

  Harbringer leaned back in his seat and looked him over. “So you are Rael Pointe?"

  “Yes, sir.” Rael found himself struggling to appear docile. A myriad of unfamiliar feelings flashed through his mind. This was harder than he had thought it would be.

  Harbringer studied him before speaking again. “You know who I am, don't you?"

  Rael found himself rooted where he stood, unable to speak.

  Ira, still standing at his post against the wall, considered helping Rael.

  No, Tristen warned him, do nothing.

  An eerie smile spread across Harbringer's face. “You are strong willed, aren't you?” He looked over to Tristen. “Release him, and stand by."

  You are free, Rael, take care, she thought to him.

  Rael openly glared at Harbringer, “You're the bastard that killed my mother.” He walked over to the desk and sat down across from him. “So what now?"

  Harbringer's smile faded as he studied Rael from across the desk. “How much do you think you know about what's going on?"

  “You tell me,” Rael snapped.

  Harbringer looked him in the eye. “Perhaps I should. Come on.” He stood up. “I have something to show you. In fact, I guess you will all need to come.” He turned toward Mallory who was still standing by the door. You won't mind a little business trip, will you? I still want to discuss some of your choices of late."

  Mallory shrugged nonchalantly. “I'm looking forward to it,” he lied.

  Tristen shivered at the thought.

  “This is quite a group you have brought me, Mr. Switt. You don't have to be psychic to feel their power and the unity they share. I could almost believe they breathe in sync.” Harbringer turned his attention to Ira. “And so, let's look closer.” He studied Ira's stiff-backed silence and noted the way he gravitated toward Tristen even from a distance. “Remove the glasses."

  Ira removed them slowly but did not meet his gaze.

  “A rogue talent! Where did you find him?” Harbringer paused. “You got them all—the whole squad? How?” He looked back to Tristen. “How can she bind him?"

  Mallory grinned and strolled toward Harbringer despite the menacing attentions of one of the big bodyguards. He wondered how anyone could tell them apart; selective breeding was definitely involved there, maybe even cloning.

  “Damnedest thing,” he continued casually, “seems that my little one over there,” he smiled at Tristen, “when she was captured by this Dark Ops team, she managed to retain her control over the good Captain here. So, she positioned herself to complete her mission through him. But you're right; she couldn't bind a Wall Master. Watch this.” He looked purposely at Tristen and smiled. A paralyzing jolt shot through the collar, and both Tristen and Ira dropped to their knees in pain.

  “Pretty good, huh?” Mallory continued, “She couldn't bind him so she bonded with him!” Ira glared at him from Tristen's side. “Go ahead get up, both of you. I've made my point.” He turned his back to them and finished. “Not bad, huh? Two for the price of one."

  Harbringer seemed more cautious now, keeping an eye on the others. Nodding toward Ira, he noted, “He doesn't like you very much, does he?"

  “No, he doesn't love me like my little one does.” He flashed her a tender smile.

  “Well you are resourceful, aren't you? We are definitely going to have to have a long productive conversation very soon.” Harbringer reassessed the team members.

  Ira and Tristen both rose from the floor and drew closer to where Rael still sat behind the desk.

  Such strength, Harbringer thought to his men. Watch them closely. “Wasn't there supposed to be one more member of this team?"

 
; “It seems he didn't make the transition and ended up dead, but still three out of four isn't bad."

  “No, I guess not. You and the rest of this remarkable team can follow my guards here.” He motioned for Ira and Tristen to join Mallory. They hesitated, reluctant to leave Rael behind. “Oh don't worry,” Harbringer told them. “He's coming too. We'll be right behind you.” He looked back at Rael. “This is a family field trip you know, but I think we'll not be walking this time.” Michael, arrange for transportation, he instructed one of the guards. At the speed of thought the orders were given.

  Rael, still sitting at the desk, took the moment to send a message of his own. His temples flickering beneath silver hair drew the attention of one of the guards. Rounding the desk in a flash, he backhanded Rael across the face. Rael lurched to his feet.

  “Who are you calling?” Harbringer asked from behind the guard, who stood his ground precariously close to Rael.

  The desk com beeped indicating an incoming message. Harbringer punched it on to receive the message. The image of one of the young guards appeared on the screen. “Sorry sir, we were cut off. Where do you want the vehicle to meet you?"

  “Disregard the order; we've already made arrangements.” Harbringer slammed the com off. He glared at Rael, “From now on, no more transmissions from you. If I see so much as a flicker of those temple plates, you'll find yourself in stasis until I'm ready to deal with you. Do you understand me?"

  Rael nodded.

  “All right, let's get going."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 14

  Outside the main entrance, Laynald patted the young attendant on the back. “Good job. Your lord will be told of your service here, now make yourself scarce for about half an hour. I don't want you anywhere near these elite guards."

  The young man smiled back at him. “Yes sir, it's about break time any way."

  Laynald returned his attention to the arrival of his own sleek glider-class unit. “This will do fine,” he told the attendant and pulled away from the club to stand watch for Harbringer's procession from a distance. From two blocks away, he watched as they entered their conveyances: dark windows, rich black sheen, built for comfort ... nice rides. He sometimes followed and sometimes preceded them as they cruised closer and closer to what he knew had to be the port.

 

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