Quest For Earth

by S. E. GILCHRIST

  ‘Guards?’ asked Sherise.

  ‘None. I fear the Half-deads have other matters on their minds at present.’

  Their eyes met in grim understanding. Footsteps approached. Sherise crouched and shuffled sideways into darker shadow, noticing that the Freeber male followed her example. They waited in silence while a creature dashed past, disappearing down another tunnel.

  She said, ‘Can you get your people out? I suspect there is an armaments cache here and I must destroy it.’

  ‘This I can do. Give us thirty minutes to be clear.’

  Sherise rummaged in her satchel and pressed the last of her phials into the man’s hands. ‘Give your people one each, it will help with their pain.’ She handed over her other weapon. ‘Here, take this. But note it does not kill, only stuns.’ She gave him a quick lesson on its operation and a few minutes later, he lifted a hand in farewell and hurried off.

  Thirty minutes, meaning thirty sectons. She counted down the time in her head while she activated her knife. It failed to respond. Where was it? Her heart went into rocket mode while she wasted precious minutes groping about in the dirt until her fingers closed over the handle. Although her knife would be of use only in close combat, it would have to be sufficient. She would save her supply of uron charges for the blast she hoped would destroy whatever weapons remained in the barrows. First, she needed to confirm their location.

  One hand pressed to her side, the other touching the slimy wall, she crept along the tunnel as it snaked deeper into the earth. She tripped over an object that crunched under her foot. A human bone, dry and brittle with age. She gritted her teeth. These creatures had no respect for the dead.

  The torches were now spaced many footsteps apart and it was difficult to see the way ahead. Perhaps she should activate her magfen lamp? But if she did, any hope of surprise would be lost.

  She took another few cautious steps toward a curve in the tunnel, where light glowed. Sherise pressed against the rock and peered around the corner. The tunnel opened onto a wide ledge. Beyond, lay a well of impenetrable darkness. She suspected a chasm was the cause of the darkness. With no torches burning on the far side, there was no way of judging its depth nor its width. A wave of dizziness swamped her. If she fell … she squeezed her eyes shut and mouthed a short prayer mantra. Head clear, she took a second, longer scrutiny of the small plateau.

  Found it. Thank you, Cercis.

  Even better, no sign of the Half-dead.

  Here was the opportunity she had prayed for. She hurried towards the containers piled high in the middle of the plateau. The catches of one box were unlocked. She cast a swift glance about and, assured there was no one else present, prised open the lid. She cringed at the squeal of rusty hinges, so loud in the silence. Balancing the lid with her head, she burrowed amongst the contents. She held up a weapon to examine it in the light of the burning torches before tossing it inside and closing the lid.

  She sat back on her heels and stared at the case. The light reflected off a glint of metal. Sherise edged around the pile of boxes and, just in time, captured her gasp of surprise. Her shaking hand touched the screen of a Darkon stealth-signal jammer. So this was how their signals were intercepted. And, if there were more of them, possibly explained how they’d been unable to detect any other fortress cities on the planet.

  Data flickered across the small screen revealing it was active. How much time had passed? Too much, she suspected, and it could take a while to disengage the jammer’s security. I’ll deal with this later. No larger than the size of a compu tablet, she was able to quickly stash the jammer inside her medie satchel.

  Sherise grabbed a handful of sand from the ground and scrubbed her palms to remove the sticky residue of blood and sweat. Hands dry and heart pounding, she removed the uron charges from her belt and coded in the count-down sequence. After a quick survey she chose the best position for optimum effect. She clambered over a container and placed the bomb in the centre of the stack. Her concentration was so great she failed to detect the soft thuds of footsteps until it was too late. She looked up and her mouth dropped open.

  The last person Sherise expected to see emerged from the tunnel.

  ‘You!’ Ever so slowly she rose to her feet, keeping her hands curled near her thighs.

  The Priestess stopped and raised her painted brows, her gaze as merciless as a draptile. Behind her trooped into view a group of her minions, the Half-dead.

  ***

  ‘I could ask what you’re doing here, but I’ve guessed,’ drawled the Priestess. She lifted her hand and waved the surging creatures back. They jostled a pace behind her. Even from that distance, their stench was unmistakable.

  How could the woman bear their proximity? Sherise stepped over the box and edged away from the cache. Her mind raced. How to distract the zealot and make her escape? Mindful of the time ticking with relentless precision she rapidly considered and discarded several possibilities. Her chest felt as if pinched by giant clamps. Her enemies were too many, her options too few, with nothing to fight with but her knife. Sweat trickled down her face like a river of tears.

  A Darkon never retreats.

  Her blade snicked into her hand. She ran her thumb over the warm metal. Oh, great goddess Cercis, give me the strength to drag the Priestess with me into the after-life.

  ‘Somehow, I doubt it,’ said Sherise, pleased her assured tone did not reflect the trembling within. ‘I have come for you.’

  A ripple passed over the other woman’s face like a flutter of wings over the surface of still water. ‘How did you know?’

  Sherise shrugged. ‘Until now, I did not realise it was you who smuggled our weapons to the Half-dead, but the instant we met, I recognised you.’

  For a long moment, the Priestess stared. Then she laughed. There was no mirth in the sound, only icy disdain. ‘This is nonsense. We’d never met before that day in the temple.’

  ‘Affirmative. However, I have known, intimately, someone who is as alike to you as blood kin; another woman who betrayed her family and people for greed. She was my father’s sister and thought beyond reproach. Marja El Ferin was a traitor to my people. You remind me of her.’

  Useless to think she could reason with a fanatic. Sherise wiped her damp face with her sleeve, took another step forward, balanced her weight between both feet and found her centre. Block your pain, Maaka’s voice slipped into her mind. I am here.

  Hope surged with the strength of morning sunshine, chasing the shadows from her heart. The touch of his hand against her face, the tenderness of his lips, and the expression on his face when he spoke of his love for her, fuelled her determination to live.

  By the cloak of Cercis, I will not die like a slimebug deep within the earth. Not now that I have him in my life. Her heartbeats slowed their frantic rhythm. The panic in her mind vaporised is if burnt to ash by a solar flare.

  ‘I will give you a chance of life,’ the Priestess said. ‘Diffuse the bomb you’ve armed and I will spare your life.’ She indicated the creatures waiting at her shoulders, their mouths stretched wide in feral anticipation, glassy eyes burning with blood lust.

  Sherise snorted. ‘Why not show how powerful you are? Fight me alone.’

  The woman’s gaze dropped to Sherise’s chest for a moment.

  She knows I have sustained damage.

  ‘Fine,’ the Priestess spat. ‘Throw your life away if you wish. I can disarm your bomb myself and the Half-dead will feast long on your flesh. Or even better, I will throw your body to your imprisoned friends and watch while they devour you.’ She cocked her head to one side and smirked. ‘I see from the shock on your face the mutant has not told you. You shudder and despise the Half-dead and yet they and your friends are the same.’

  Surely she did not mean …?

  The Priestess folded her arms inside the wide sleeves of her long tunic, her face as smooth and cold as sheet-ice. ‘They’re so easily turned into their brothers, the Half-dead. They, too, have been know
n to eat the flesh of their dead. This is why Maaka wants to destroy my pets. He fears what he will become.’

  Were these false words spouted by a honeyed tongue to cloud her thoughts? Or could this be the last secret Maaka had feared to share? An eerie wind whistled down the tunnels and blasted across the ledge, whipping sand to prick her exposed skin. She felt Maaka’s presence, sensed his desperate longing for her understanding reach out with pleading hands while nightmares shrieked inside her head.

  A slow smile spread like poison over the Priestess’ face. She purred, ‘Why would I lie? Under the skin, they are the same.’

  Wrong answer. Maaka is nothing like these creatures. Her cold body tingled with renewed life and warmth eased the throbbing pain weakening her body.

  ‘They could never be the same. I know this here.’ Sherise touched the place above her heart. ‘And if this is the secret Maaka has kept from me, I do not care. Once I, too, was imprisoned on a planet, starving; I had no other choice but to do the same if I wished to survive. You have failed to shock me.’

  ‘Then you will die, alien.’ The Priestess muttered an aside and swept her hand forward.

  Three creatures raced towards Sherise, their swords smeared with dried blood. Two remained at the Priestess’ side.

  How many more in the tunnel?

  No time. Sherise leapt forward and the Half-deads hesitated. She ducked beneath the lead creature’s sword, rammed her knife deep into its gut and slid sideways. She sliced at the next Half-dead’s face. It screeched, jerking its head back as Sherise punched her clenched fist up into its jaw in a classic undercut. It collapsed with a thump to the ground. She heard shrieks coming from the tunnel and the striking of steel against steel.

  Maaka is here. The other creature, where is it?

  She spun round, pain clenching her ribs and she swallowed her moan. Her eyes sought the remaining creature only to find it disappearing down another tunnel.

  From behind her, the Priestess’s hands wrapped around her legs and pulled. Tackled, Sherise slammed to the ground. Agony seared through her body. Lights flashed. She could see nought. Sherise dragged in a breath that hitched in her throat and kicked with both feet, exultant when she made contact with a body. She swept her arm in a wide arc, felt slight resistance, and then the slick slide as her knife slashed into the skin of the Priestess’s face.

  Blood splattered onto the rocks as the Priestess screamed. The sound added to the cacophony of noise ringing throughout the cave. Sherise rolled to the side. Her lungs were on fire and felt as if they were broken bellows as she struggled to breathe. She kicked again but found only empty space. The other woman’s fist struck her ribcage and the remaining air in her lungs belched out as pain flashed white hot through her body. The ripe smell of fresh blood filled her nostrils. Her stomach heaved as nausea churned in her belly.

  ‘Stand Sherise! Get on your feet.’ Maaka’s bellow cut through the buzzing in her ears.

  Teeth clenched, she willed herself to breathe. She pressed one arm against her chest and lurched upright, holding her knife at the ready. Fresh blood leaked from where her teeth clenched into her lower lip. Air wheezed through a throat as tight as if constricted by a coda worm. She focused through swollen eyes and searched the area. She caught a brief glimpse of Maaka, grim-faced as he battled the remaining Half-deads in the tunnel.

  Her stomach heaved. Did the earth move? Sherise clutched her head and staggered in a semicircle to see the Priestess within one pace of the weapons pile. A wave of darkness washed over her and she fought her body’s insistent demand to collapse. Reeling on her feet, she pushed through her fatigue as she saw the woman fling open a container lid and reach inside.

  Sherise lurched forward. As the Priestess lifted the plitza gun, Sherise kicked the weapon from her hands. The woman sprang, her fingers curled into claws, her face contorted with rage as she reached for Sherise’s throat.

  But Sherise pivoted to the side and with one last effort, kicked the Priestess in the kneecap. Screaming, the woman fell to the ground.

  Her heart pounded and Sherise buckled to her knees before sagging onto her backside. Tears tracked down her cheeks. I cannot rise. I am done.

  Time slowed. The world receded and she watched the other woman scrabble amongst the stones and clods of earth. Sherise saw the gun the same instant the Priestess did. The other woman pushed onto her hands and knees.

  Dazed, the roaring in her ears deafening her, head throbbing, Sherise frantically sought something with which to defend herself. She still clutched her knife.

  Sherise raised her head.

  The Priestess scuttled on hands and knees towards the plitza gun.

  As if she was on a planet many galaxies afar, Sherise heard Maaka’s shouts but made no sense of his words through the buzzing in her head.

  The Priestess closed her fingers over the handle.

  Lifted it.

  Turned.

  Aimed towards the tunnel.

  Towards Maaka.

  No! Sherise threw the knife. The metal flashed as it flew through the air. With a whump, it hit the Priestess in the centre of her back. The woman collapsed in a puddle of robes.

  Sherise slumped onto the ground. She shook so hard she feared her teeth would fall from her mouth, but she could do nought to stem the tide of emotions swamping her exhausted body. What was it she needed to remember?

  Maaka’s strong arms encircled her waist and he lifted her up to cradle her against the sharp tikka armour. He murmured soothing sounds as he carried her away, shielding her from the grisly sight of the Priestess’s final moments. His voice dragged her back from the oblivion her body craved.

  ‘The bomb. There were others … We have to find them … get them to safety.’ Was that wispy sliver of noise her?

  ‘Be easy, my sweet Sherise. I passed them on my way through the tunnels. They should have reached the surface by now. Rest for a moment, while I organise our escape route.’ He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose and propped her against the cave wall.

  She held back words of denial when his touch left her. Through heavy and gritty eyes, she watched him race across the short space of ledge and rummage amongst the weapon cache. He balanced a weapon on his shoulders, aimed skywards and a moment later a nix missile whooshed through the air to explode against the ceiling.

  Debris of rock and sand rained down.

  I am such a fool, I have forgotten my helmet. Sherise berated herself as she ducked her head under her arm. A moment later, Maaka lifted her onto her feet and hustled her to the centre of the small plateau. She wanted to hurry but her body refused to co-operate. Dust which filled the cavern as thick as smoke stung her eyes and choked her throat.

  She coughed, a heaving spasm that burned through her ribcage.

  ‘Wrap your arms and legs about me. Do not let go,’ he ordered.

  Her mind was so woolly it was difficult to concentrate, but she responded to the command in his voice and did as he instructed. The next instant she felt him grip her tight around the waist and heard his faint grunt as he took her weight. A tug and they were lifted into the air, whizzing upwards towards the ceiling.

  Sherise tilted her head. The strike had blasted a hole through the rock and bright blue sky beckoned through the cloud of dust. They whizzed to the surface, attached to a thick metal rope which appeared to be hooked into the rock above. As they neared the top, Sherise didn’t need Maaka’s muttered ‘Hurry!’ to move.

  She clambered over his body, his hand on her backside pushing her upwards. She hauled herself up and over onto the hard-baked surface. On her belly, she scrambled back to the edge of the hole, reached her hand down and grabbed a fistful of armour.

  She pulled with all her strength and determination.

  The next moment, Maaka joined her. He released the rope from his belt and they staggered to their feet.

  They had only lurched a few paces when the earth beneath them erupted in a shuddering roar.

  Sherise shri
eked as she hit the ground again. Maaka scooped her close and his weight pressed her down as he protected her with his body. Rocks and clumps of dirt thudded against his back and the surrounding area.

  At last, the deluge of debris ceased.

  Maaka eased his weight from her and, with a careful touch, lifted her into his lap.

  ‘Do not cry so, my Sherise. ’Tis done and you have been so courageous.’ He stroked away the wetness from her cheeks, his fingers trembling as they touched her skin with such gentleness; she cried even harder.

  ‘I was so afraid I would lose you,’ she said in a choked voice.

  Loud, gulping sobs engulfed her as she flung her arms about his neck and held tight. The pain in her ribs ignored. She needed his strength against her, his warmth, the firm touch of his hands, to remind her that he still lived. His familiar scent, now mixed with sweat and the pungent stench of battle, filled her lungs as she snuffled into the curve of his neck.

  Maaka eased her away from him. ‘You are injured; I have felt your pain these past hours. Tell me and I will tend to you.’

  She battled her tears and smiled. Her lips trembled for a moment then settled as the adrenaline surging through her bloodstream dissipated, overwhelmed by joy.

  ‘One very sore rib, cuts to my skin and bruising; I will be fine. But you, have you sustained any damage?’ She reared away to run her hands over his arms and pat down his torso.

  He grinned but his eyes remained dark with concern as he studied her. After unhooking a bladder from his belt, he offered her a drink. ‘Nothing that cannot be mended.’

  The last of her anxiety slipped away, leaving her feeling giddy and with a crazy urge to laugh. She took a large mouthful and enjoyed the cool liquid as it slid down her parched throat. ‘Do you think there is any chance of a long sleep far from this madness?’

  ‘No rest for me as yet, but for you I may make an exception.’

  Before she could respond to his gentle teasing, she heard the pounding of booted feet over the earth. Alarmed, she tried to activate her knife before remembering it remained buried deep in the body of the Priestess. She wanted to retch. She shuddered and swallowed.