The Atomic Sea: Part Nine

by Jack Conner

  “Any last words?”

  “Please ... don’t put me on display.”

  Lord Onxcor grunted noncommittally. Without another word he swung the heavy blade down, severing Palix’s head at the neck. The head rolled free, and the body sagged, twitching and spurting to the ground, then grew still.

  Onxcor grabbed the head by the hair and lifted it up so all could see it. With bloody sword in one hand and severed head, still dripping, in the other, the tusked giant was the definition of barbaric splendor. “Let this be a lesson to all!” Onxcor thundered. “Too many of you have been doing what Palix did, and this is to put you on notice that from this moment on it won’t be tolerated. These women that you’re gathering are to be the mothers of our children, the gateway to the next generation of the tribe. Would you taint that gateway? Would you tinge it with bitterness and hate, and so corrupt the next generation?” He flung the head to his underlings, who caught it deftly. “Freeze it and put it up—only the head. I’ll do that much for him. Feed the rest to the dogs.” Then, to the gathering at large: “It’s over. Go about your business.”

  Silence reigned for a moment, then the clansmen returned to drinking and feasting. Lord Onxcor glared out at them, sighed and began to return to his throne. Before he could, Asclan signaled his attention. The two exchanged brief words that Risiglon did not translate, nor did he have to. Onxcor ran his eyes up and down Sheridan, Risiglon and Avery, and Avery could see greed enter his face.

  “More bidders?” he said. “And who are you, exactly?”

  Sheridan asked in Ysstran if he spoke that tongue, and when he replied that he did, she said, “I’m Colonel Sheridan of Octung. These are Doctor Francis Avery and Professor Sul Risiglon. We represent the Temple and wish to bring our god home. We understand you have him here.”

  Lord Onxcor nodded. With a harsh look, he indicated a far wall, and Avery turned to see a part of the room he hadn’t noticed before. Chained to a blue-glowing ice wall was the body of the missing Collossum.

  Avery gasped.

  “It can’t be!” he heard himself say. “It’s Uthua ...”

  Chapter 3

  Indeed, Lord Uthua, near-Elder and Mnuthra, the possessor of Muirblaag and hounder of Layanna, hung by chains from the ice wall, covered in countless new wounds. He was a bloody, tattered figure, sagging in unconsciousness, yet he was imposing still, a titan of fish scales and web-fingered claws, needle teeth and muscles. More than that was the power contained within, locked away in some other dimension, or multiple dimensions. Four armed men stood guard before him.

  “He survived,” Avery said. “Damn it all, he survived.” Despite Layanna’s feelings, he had been nearly certain the great fish-man, or the force animating him, had perished after the activation of the Device. Well, at least he had hoped so very, very much.

  “Behold,” Onxcor said, “the god of the fools in your Temple. The god who can’t even get himself out of a set of manacles. I don’t know why your kind wants him back so badly, but I’ll take your money just the same if it’s more than the others can offer.”

  “How did you capture him?” Sheridan said.

  “Did I say it was me that did it?”

  “Who did?”

  “I will say no more about it.”

  “What of any ... items ... he might have had on him?”

  Onxcor’s gaze settled on her, seeming to dig inside of her flesh. It made Avery distinctly uncomfortable, and he marveled at Sheridan’s ability not to squirm.

  “It occurs to me,” Onxcor said, speaking in a slow, measured rhythm, “that I should be the one asking questions of you. Tell me, ah, Colonel Sheridan, is that the way it should be? I have excellent methods of asking questions.”

  Avery glanced around him. Each of the stalagmites that made up the half-circle border to the audience area contained the frozen, twisted body of someone who had died in particularly awful pain, every one tortured until they were almost unrecognizable as human beings, let alone individuals.

  Still with that same maddening (and yet heartening) evenness of tone, Sheridan replied, “I have no more questions.”

  Onxcor actually laughed, long and loud. Still laughing, he offered a hand to the girl, Mixa, that had remained on the icy floor at his feet, then helped her up. She shuddered as he wrapped an arm about her but did not protest.

  “I am most sorry for your treatment, child,” he said. “You are a beauty, and should be cherished. No one here will further harm you. Will you consent to be a woman of the Onix? Will you obey our laws and customs and forswear your previous clan?”

  She only hesitated a moment. “I will, Lord Onxcor.”

  “Then you may address me as my lord from now on.” To his underlings, he said, “Give her a bath. Feed her and clothe her. Have her waiting in my chambers in half an hour.”

  Hesitant, but not fighting it (perhaps that was just shock, or perhaps she knew she could have done far worse than be chosen as the consort of a lord, willingly or not, especially with her entire clan targeted for extermination), she allowed herself to be led along and disappeared into a rear tunnel.

  Lord Onxcor turned back to his new guests. “Tomorrow I’ll give the various parties a chance to bid on the Collossum and will make my decision then. My people will prepare rooms for you and yours, Colonel. Tonight we will celebrate and feast—the capture of a god! It’s not every day something like this happens, and don’t ask me to say I’m sorry it’s the capture of your god. It’s only a shame I’ve decided to sell him. I had toyed with having rare sport with him—rare indeed. He’s strong. I could have made him last quite a while before ... ” He nodded toward the nearest stalagmite. “He would have made a hell of a trophy.”

  * * *

  “Perhaps you would like some food,” Asclan said, leading them away from the throne and its occupant, who had turned his attention to a new supplicant.

  “We’ve already eaten,” Sheridan said.

  “Some drink would go down just fine, though,” Avery said. The last drink seemed to have evaporated completely; his mind was depressingly sober.

  Asclan showed them to a wooden table that was only sparsely populated by Onix clansmen. For that Avery was thankful—also, that they kept well away from him. Asclan signaled the den’s equivalent of a waiter and had Avery and the others order drinks. Sheridan ordered hot apple cider.

  “I’ve got to stay clear,” she explained. Then, looking at Avery significantly: “Someone has to.”

  His gaze strayed to Uthua. “I can’t believe he’s here.”

  “You know him?” Risiglon asked. When Avery said he did, the professor looked amazed. “I’ve only ever met one briefly, in ceremony. They offered the Sacrament, I accepted, and they moved on to the next person in line. How did you meet Lord Uthua?”

  Avery allowed himself a grin. “I killed him.”

  Risiglon stared.

  Drinks arrived, and Avery downed a long sip of his whiskey. It burned his throat, and he was grateful for it. The air in here might be hot by Xlacan standards, but by his any place that was mostly composed of ice and didn’t melt was much too cold ... though it certainly beat being outdoors.

  “Did you know it was Uthua?” he asked Sheridan.

  She blew over the top of her cider, which steamed. She didn’t answer.

  “Well?”

  She sipped. After she’d swallowed and issued a satisfied mmm, she said, “Of course I knew.”

  Avery suppressed the urge to grind his teeth. “What else do you know?”

  A trace of amusement flickered in her steel-gray eyes. “Need-to-know, Doctor.”

  He dashed down a large dose. Instantly his eyes watered. Xlacan whiskey was strong.

  Asclan, who had remained with them—he’d told them that they were his responsibility—had kept silent till now, perhaps not understanding their Octunggen, but he broke in to say, “Your rooms should be ready shortly. Just tell me when you want to leave.”

  They thanked him but didn
’t leave the den. Avery’s attention constantly strayed to Uthua. The terrible god-thing that had almost destroyed him on numerous occasions simply hung from the wall like a slab of meat. If not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, and the steam coming from between his needle teeth, Avery might have thought him dead.

  “Whatever attacked him must have hurt him on some other plane,” Avery mused, careful to speak in Ghenisan, which only he and Sheridan were likely to understand. “Something with extradimensional capability struck him. It’s wounded him so much that he hasn’t been able to bring his other-self over to free himself.”

  “You don’t think our host has the ability to hurt him—at his peak strength, that is?” Sheridan said, and Avery appreciated her use of the phrase our host instead of the word Onxcor. She didn’t want Asclan to know they were speaking of his chief.

  “Our host has impressive means of freezing his victims, I’ll grant you,” Avery said, “but I doubt he’s ever even seen a Collossum before, let alone be able to attack one or weaken one other-dimensionally.”

  “What could have done it, then?”

  “I don’t ... ” Suddenly Avery frowned. To Asclan, he said, in Ysstran, “What other bidders are there?”

  Asclan’s black eyes roved the room. “Like I said, there were two when I left. It looks like there’s more now.” He stopped a passing clansman and interrogated him briefly, then turned back to Avery. “It looks like two other parties have arrived. That brings the total to five, including you.”

  “Who are they?”

  Asclan nodded to someone at a nearby table. “There’s Gaxilg, a representative from the Lixaga Clan.”

  “What would another clan want with Lord Uthua?” Risiglon asked.

  “The Lixagas are powerful,” Asclan said. “They probably see that whoever holds the Collossum will have some clout. Maybe they plan to wait until his price goes up and sell him to someone else. An investment.” He shrugged. “Next is Ambassador Destryn—”

  “Who?” said Sheridan. For the first time she sounded surprised.

  “He represents the Ysstral Empire.”

  “What the hell do they have a stake in this for?”

  “I don’t know, but they had a presence in town what with the fighting. They were lending aid to the rebels, trying to oust you people—not a bad idea, not that we in this clan take sides. The Ysstrals got wind of the god and decided it was worth investigating. Maybe they think having a captive Collossum would be a useful thing. You’ll have to ask them.”

  Sheridan nodded, biting her lip just slightly. It was an oddly vulnerable gesture, and Avery was seized with an impulse to kiss her. He resisted.

  “Who else?” he said.

  Asclan nodded to a group of cloaked and hooded figures in a dark corner of the room. “There’s the mystery party. I don’t know who they are or where they come from. They just showed up out of nowhere with sacks of money and said they want the god and that they’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

  “Intriguing.”

  Asclan hitched his chin at another table, where rough fur-clad shapes sat glaring at the rough fur-clad shapes around them. “Last, there’s the rebels. They heard about the god and decided to horn in, at least that’s what I figure. I guess they think they can use Uthua against the Temple. Hold him hostage until the Collossumists pull up stakes and leave. Good luck, that’s what I say. Then again, you crazy bastards will do just about anything for your gods.”

  “And all the bidders—they’re all staying here tonight?” Avery felt a trace of unease work its way up from the base of his spine at the thought.

  Asclan grinned. “Boss isn’t letting you fine folk out of his sight, is he? Not till it’s over.”

  No, Avery thought. Not till it’s over. But just when or how that would be was something Avery didn’t want to think about.

  * * *

  “So where is the—party from the Temple?” Avery grunted. He and Sheridan were making love in the room they’d been given, and Avery was surprised at how luxurious it was. Though the walls and ceiling were ice, the floor was wooden and the furniture was perfectly comfortable. Especially the bed.

  Sheridan, under him and with her legs wrapped around his hips, ground her pelvis into him, admitting him deeper. “I was—wondering—the same thing. We’re impersonating them, but—if they show up—”

  Acting suddenly, she flipped them over, so that she was on top, but he grabbed her hips and only pumped faster.

  “We would—be—in big—trouble—” he started.

  “—if they—showed up—”

  “Yes. But—”

  “Go slower—almost there.”

  Sweat beaded her firm breasts, and he squeezed one, then thumbed her nipple. She moaned. The walls glowed with a violet light, casting her body with a midnight sheen that swayed and shifted as the colors changed slightly moment by moment, like the light of the auroras.

  “It would raise questions anyway,” she said. “We’re on the same side, after all.”

  “Asclan said he expected them first.”

  “I would have, too.”

  “So where are they?”

  “Good question.” She started back up again, grinding faster and faster. He hardened further inside her, engorging almost painfully. He could feel himself throb, the sensation sending ripples all throughout him, making his head faint and flares burst in his vision. He wore a condom, so he didn’t fear coming inside her, a real problem as he was infected and she wasn’t. Still, he missed the feel of skin on skin.

  “What of—the mystery—party?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, his grip tightening on her hips, then swinging her to the side, so that they rutted sideways. “I was—thinking of—them, too. They’re—”

  “Suspicious?”

  “More than—suspicious.”

  “And the Ysstrals. What are—the fucking Ysstrals—oh yes, yes, ooooooo, the fucking Ysstrals, the fucking Ysstrals, the fucking Ysstrals, the fucking Ysssstrallllls ... ” She cried loudly as she came, then continued to grind against him for long moments until she collapsed. Sweat glimmered on her suddenly flushed cheeks. Starting back up again, she said, her breath surprisingly controlled, “What the fuck are they doing here?”

  “I don’t—don’t—” He held it, not wanting to come, but the sight of her having her orgasm had brought him to the point of no return. Not only that, but the feel of fur both above and below him—he and Sheridan were cocooned in furs—felt soft and luxurious on his skin. That combined with Sheridan’s unconscious eroticism sent him over the edge. With a sudden groan, he exploded inside her, shuddered, then sagged.

  She sighed. “So soon?”

  He wiped sweat from his brow. “It’s the stress. The adrenaline. I’ve been horny all day. Every day since we set down, really.” He shook his head ruefully. “Which is odd because I haven’t been able to feel my cock for most of the time.”

  She laughed and rolled loose. He instantly missed the feel of being inside her. With graceful, fluid motions, she rose from the fur-covered bed and marched to the bar, her muscular buttocks flexing. She was still a little shaky, he was pleased to see. He lay on the bed panting, then rose, pulled off the condom, disposed of it and wiped himself clean. Only then did he join her at the bar, where he poured himself a thick finger of bourbon. Luckily they had that here. They may not have wood in large amounts, but they had booze. He supposed they needed it. Anyone would, living here.

  “They really are taking good care of us,” he commented.

  “Well, they stand to make a lot of money off us,” she reminded him. “Or they think they do.”

  “Little do they know you gave them nearly all we had. I still can’t believe you did that. What if we need some down the line?”

  “Then we’ll have to get funds from elsewhere. I’m not above theft if it will get me where I need to be.”

  “Oh, I’m painfully aware that you’ll do whatever it takes.”

 
; She regarded him darkly for a minute, then let it go. “Anyway, it got us here, didn’t it? Within spitting distance of Uthua.”

  “I can’t believe I’m trying to save him. By all rights I should help Onxcor torture the hell out of him. He’s a monster!”

  “He can help us retrieve the Codex.”

  Avery paused, took a sip and allowed his brain to formulate a coherent thought. Calm, he told himself. I have to approach this next part carefully. The truth was like a horse; if he spooked it it might run away.

  “Yes?” she said, with that same mixture of archness and amusement she had displayed every time he pressed her for information.

  He set the glass down—a gesture of serious intent that she could not ignore. Indeed, he could see the amusement leave her face as she contemplated the glass and what it meant.

  “It’s time,” he said, careful to keep his voice flat.

  “Time for what?”

  But she knew. Of course she did.

  “Time for you to tell me what the fuck we’re doing in Xlaca. Trying to retrieve the Codex, yes, I know, but ... why? What does the Codex do?”

  “It will help wake the Sleeper.”

  He gestured impatiently. “And what will the Sleeper do?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “I’m serious, Sheridan. I need to know. What are we doing out here? If you want my help, my input—which led us here, by the way, just as much as your money—you’ll tell me the truth. What is your endgame? What is Octung trying to do?” He realized he had raised his voice. Furthermore, that he was still naked and flaccid and middle-aged, standing in a room of ice and looking ridiculous.

  Amusement didn’t enter her face. A long breath escaped her lips instead. “Fine.”

  He felt dizzy all of a sudden. “Fine? Really?” He had expected harsh words, even violence, anything but acquiescence.

  She almost smiled. “Really. I’ll tell you. All of it. You deserve to know.”

  He stared at her, waiting for the but. When she didn’t supply it, he said, “But ... ?”

  She smiled, a real smile this time, and squeezed his hand. “No buts. All right, Francis, here it is. Are you ready?”