Dark Nadir

by Lisanne Norman

  He’d kept close to the foothills where the ground was more even, traveling only at night to avoid capture. It was less risky than crossing the open plains, even though with his ability to control many of his autonomic body functions, he could present no more heat source than the average medium-sized scavenger. Though he lost time by keeping his temperature low and being less mobile, he saved it by not having to run for cover every time a vehicle passed overhead.

  From the air traffic he’d observed since leaving the forest, the search for him was still concentrated there. That meant his ploy with the remains of the skimmer and the pilot had worked and they’d assumed one of the sharp-toothed swamp reptiles had been responsible.

  He studied the map, comparing the distance he’d already traveled with that still remaining before he needed to leave the safety of the hills and head cross-country to the telepath town of Valsgarth. Another four days if he was lucky, six or seven if the rain continued, he thought, brushing stray droplets of water off the map. He’d need all his wits about him then to avoid being picked up by them. He could only pray his modifications to the telepath’s wrist unit continued to blank his mental signature.

  The wind had changed direction and was blowing rain into the opening of his cave. Folding up the map, he stuffed it into a pocket and moved back from the opening. Cave! He hissed his derision. It was barely more than a crack in the rock face, but it afforded him cover from the day’s light and the persistent drizzling rain.

  He could feel the stiffness in his joints as he hunkered down on his heels, wrapping his damp woolen robe more closely against his legs and feet. He was definitely getting too old to be out in the field, his Emperor had been right to retire him from the front line and give him an easier posting. A justified reward, He’d said. Maybe, but he hadn’t liked it any better for that. Guardian to the hatchling princes wasn’t what he’d looked for, though many another would have welcomed it. He sighed, wishing for darkness when he could move on and look for a larger hideout to shelter in till the rains stopped. He might even be able to light a fire, dry out his clothes, and rest in more comfort than this damp animal hole provided.

  His inner clock reminded him it was about time for one of the regular news items on the information net. He turned the wrist comm on, finding he’d missed the first couple of minutes. He listened to the same tedious round of stories. Spring flooding here, a shipping accident there, a robbery, a guildhouse—whatever that was—reopening after being partly demolished in a tribal war in the desert region, and the funerals of bodies found at an archaeological site on the Valsgarth estate.

  That caught his attention and he sat up, putting the comm unit to his ear to hear it better.

  “Funerals were held yesterday for the remains of the ancestral bodies found in the lower chamber of the archaeological site in the hillside under the ruined monastery of Vartra. In two separate ceremonies, the ten Sholans and fifteen Valtegans were cremated. Guild Master Father Lijou Kzaelan officiated for the Sholans, and Sister Tokui Mayasu, Head Priestess of the Green Goddess cult led a short service for the Valtegans. The Sholan ashes will be scattered over the Valsgarth and Aldatan estates as they are believed to be those of founder members of those clans. Valtegan ashes will be scattered in Nazule Bay. Parents are once again advised to be alert for the distinctive bright green la’quo stones. In reality they are a dangerous resinous drug. Should you find any, please hand them in to your Clan Leader or Guild Master.”

  Kezule hissed in anger. Ashes! They had burned the corpses, not buried them decently in the ground! Worse, their final resting place would be at the bottom of some bay! Shola had been a backwater world fifteen hundred years ago, and it was no better now, no matter what technological advances had been made!

  So incensed was he that he almost missed the run through of the headlines as the program drew to a close.

  “Trade treaties have been signed with three member species of the Council of Free Traders at Jalna. These historic documents have brought two new species into the Alliance—the U’Churians and the Cabbarans. The Jalnians join Terra as Associate members. The fourth species, the TeLaxaud, have not yet been contacted, but it is hoped they will soon join the talks.”

  He switched the unit off in disgust. So they’d formed an alliance with other species, had they? It wouldn’t help them once he returned to the past. All this would be undone when he and his unit weathered out the Cataclysm in the mountains as he’d planned. But this time, he’d go back earlier, take all the eggs—keep his wife, too—and set up his own dynasty to rule this world till they could contact K’oish’ik again and reestablish the God-King’s rule on Shola.

  Slowly it penetrated through his cold-fogged brain that if a treaty had been signed, those he hunted would soon be home. He wanted to be on their estate before they returned in order to spy out the land and find a safe hideaway. Then he could plan his kidnap of them.

  Once more, there had been no mention of his escape. Their authorities obviously intended to keep it secret. He allowed himself a sardonic smile. It wouldn’t do to frighten the natives by letting them know that one of their ancient enemies, a more dangerous predator than any they’d met before, walked their world freely, would it?

  He began to shiver and turned his thoughts back to more mundane considerations. Time to deal with the chill seeping into his bones from the damp clothing and the even damper weather. Slowing his breathing, he settled down to wait for dusk, staring out through the unceasing curtain of rain at the hazy alien landscape beyond.

  Chapter 7

  T’CHEBBI roused Kaid some time later. “They’re back,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Kate and Taynar. They’re sleeping now. Had to knock Kate out, went hysterical. Taynar was out cold anyway. I checked them over thoroughly. Tiny wounds where blood and tissue samples been taken—had to look real hard for them on Taynar because of his pelt—but nothing else I can find. If Kate was pregnant, she’s not now. Checked for a contraceptive implant when no one looking, but was no sign she’d been given one.”

  “How come I slept through all this?”

  “Found them in the central room, one we use for Leskas. Left them there.”

  He scrubbed at his face with his hands before sitting up. He felt sticky and uncomfortable, needed a shower. He glanced at his wrist comm. Fifth hour. “You should have awakened me,” he said, hauling himself up and searching for his tunic.

  “You needed the rest,” said T’Chebbi with a shrug, handing it to him. “Only found them half an hour ago.”

  “Anyone else know they’re back?”

  “Yes, everyone. Mrowbay double-checked them.”

  He pulled his tunic on, bending down to pick up his belt, then combed through his hair with his fingers.

  “How are the others taking it?”

  “Subdued,” she said.

  * * *

  Heads looked up from what they were doing as he entered. He could have sliced the underlying tension with a knife. Nodding, he made for the food dispenser set into the far wall.

  Tirak joined him. “Thank Kathan the Primes didn’t keep them long,” he said quietly.

  “It was long enough,” said Kaid, punching in his choice of eggs and vegetables. “They’re a mixed Leska pair, that worries me.”

  “Perhaps they can tell us what the Primes wanted when they wake.”

  “We can ask them,” said Kaid, picking up his plate and pressing a pad for a drink. “Better, I’ll get the information myself telepathically from Taynar. He’s been trained to use his talent, Kate hasn’t yet. That way I can experience what he did.”

  Tirak narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t you do that with Rezac and Jo?”

  “They’re sick, Taynar and Kate aren’t,” he said shortly. He hadn’t wanted to get that close to his father’s mind, but he couldn’t tell Tirak that.

  “Get Zashou to tell you, then. If I understand your family groupings, she’s a wife of his too, and a telepath.”

  “I can now s
he’s mentally up and running again,” he agreed, picking up the glass and moving aside for the captain.

  * * *

  After he’d eaten, he took Zashou aside as Tirak had suggested and asked her what she’d picked up from Jo and Rezac of the night they went missing.

  “Nothing,” she said. “They’ve no memory of it that I’m aware of.” She fixed him with a hard look. “They have their privacy, Kaid. I don’t infringe on it. Frankly, I don’t want to. I’m glad he’s found someone to divert his passion away from me.”

  “You’re being too hard on him, Zashou. Ease up a little. You’re as difficult for him to live with as he is for you.”

  Her amber eyes regarded him thoughtfully. “Why do you always want a reason to excuse him?”

  “I don’t, I feel equally for you both. It’s not a pretty situation for either of you, to be Linked to someone so diametrically opposed to your individual principles.”

  “There’s a mystery between you two, Kaid, and I’ll solve it, believe me. He finds the need to keep defending you. I think we’ve all enough jeggets in our barn without you two starting an affair.”

  He’d not risen to her obvious bait. “If they remember anything, ask them to tell me, please.”

  * * *

  When Kate and Taynar came round, he and T’Chebbi were there to reassure them. Kaid wished they had their medikit because Kate could have done with some kind of sedative. Remembering what Rezac had done with Tesha, he tried the same with Kate, gently linking to her mind and trying to calm her panic. It wasn’t as easy as he’d thought and made Kate somewhat drowsy, but at least she was better able to cope, and so was Taynar.

  With Taynar’s permission, he linked to him and relived their experience. The memories were confusing, fragments of images and sensory input. It would take a lot of teasing through to make sense of them, and though he knew the skills, he lacked any experience using them. He’d have to do it the Brotherhood way.

  He asked for the small table to be left empty so he could work. At first he thought he was having difficulty focusing on Taynar’s memories, then he realized that this wasn’t so. There was something else happening. Other images were intruding, trying to dominate his mind. He began reciting the litanies one after the other, using them to block these thoughts that were not his or Kate and Taynar’s, but they were strong, and determined to dominate him.

  The lights overhead had been so bright, their glare bleaching out every detail of the surroundings.

  With an effort, he pushed his thoughts back to the words he was quietly reciting.

  A sudden bright flash, accompanied by a pulsing sensation filled his mind. It was so clear, so real. Shocked, he jerked upright in his chair, looking round the room for its source. It came again: the flare of light, the pulse. Then again. He gasped for air, suddenly finding it almost impossible to breathe. Roaring filled his ears as the pulse throbbed once, twice, three times more. Pain lanced through his side, paralyzing him with its severity. Against his chest, the crystal he never removed flared so hot it seared him.

  His body rigid with agony, he began to slide from the chair. All he could hear was the quickening beat of a heart, all he could see were the helmets of the Primes watching him as he struggled for every breath.

  A strangled mewl escaped him as he and the chair hit the floor with a crash. He felt himself being lifted and carried, unable to tell which was his reality as he continued to fight for each breath. This is what death’s like, he thought as his body suddenly relaxed and the vision faded.

  The relief was short-lived, and fresh pain coursed through him. Doubling up, he clutched at his side and abdomen, keening his agony, taking his breaths when he could. Never had he experienced pain like this, not in Fyak’s lair, nor in Ghezu’s prison.

  Faces and voices came and went but they meant nothing as the unremitting pain tore through him. After what felt like an eternity, it began to ease. He lay there panting, poised for the next wave, but it never came. Lassitude spread through him and he realized he’d finally been given a powerful analgesic.

  When he came round, T’Chebbi’s scent enveloped him. Gradually he realized he was lying on his side with his head cradled in her lap. The crystal lay against his arm. It was no longer even warm.

  “They brought our medikit,” she was telling him. “I gave you a shot. What happened?”

  “Not me—a vision,” he croaked. His throat was raw from crying out, but deep inside him, a tiny flame of hope had been kindled. It was so tiny, so faint and fragile, he dared not even look at it. “Let me sleep, T’Chebbi. I’ll talk later.”

  “You sure you’re all right? Could find nothing wrong with you but I’ve never seen anyone in such pain.”

  He could hear the fear and concern in her voice, feel it in her mind. He wrapped his free hand around hers and gently squeezed. “Sure.”

  * * *

  Yesterday had been a strange day for J’koshuk. He’d continued to be assigned members of his crew to question, and the sessions had been routine. One look at the four Prime guards in the questioning room, and the sight of him, was enough for most of them. Everything had come spilling out, more than the Primes wanted, but less information than they needed. He’d been bored by it all as he enjoyed having to pry information from unwilling captives. The gossip value of what he was hearing, however, finally piqued his interest and he began to try developing more subtle methods of persuading them to talk than the threat of personal violence. He found this was also a heady experience, though not quite as pleasurable.

  But yesterday, he’d been suddenly stopped and returned to his quarters for the night. In the corridor, he’d passed a group of three guards heading for the Sholans’ quarters. Today they wanted him to see the Cabbarans. They were having problems with them. They refused to eat or some such thing.

  “You will interface with the Cabbarans,” the Prime seated at the desk was telling him. “Discover why they refuse to cooperate with us. For the last three days they do not eat, do not talk. They fail to thrive. This is unacceptable. You will find out why and arrange a solution.”

  “They’re only creatures, not even lesser beings,” said J’koshuk. “Why bother with them? Let them die, they’re of no value.”

  Almost before he’d finished talking, pain lanced down his spine, felling him to the floor. He screamed and writhed there for several long seconds before it stopped. The relief was instant and, shaking, he got to his feet. Resentment boiled inside him. Who were they to treat a priest of the God-King like this? When he got his chance . . . He schooled his expression to blankness as he faced the Prime again.

  “You have no value to us if you do not obey. Go to the Cabbarans and deal with the situation as you have been ordered.”

  “Yes, Seniormost,” he said quietly, inclining his head.

  * * *

  The Cabbaran accommodation had obviously not been living quarters. It was a large room, empty apart from a screen which had been erected across one corner, and the mandatory floor level sleeping units. At first, he couldn’t see them, but as he ventured farther into the room, he saw they were in the beds. A long, pointed head lifted itself from the depths of the nearest bed. Large forward-facing eyes regarded him balefully as the pointed ears were rotated, openings facing him.

  J’koshuk stopped. He hadn’t had the opportunity to look at them closely when they’d been herded onto the M’ijikk. The head was topped by a crest of hair that disappeared down the creature’s back. As it raised itself higher on its front legs—arms, he didn’t know or care which—he could see the brightly colored tattoos on cheek and shoulder.

  “Send messenger now? No good. Take away. Where our crew? Want join them. We are Free Traders. Have rights if captive!”

  J’koshuk was taken aback at the speech. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realized they could obviously communicate, but to hear words, albeit translated by a machine like the Primes used, issuing from the mouths of what appeared to be creatures, shocked him
.

  “Impossible,” he said, playing it safe. “The Primes demand to know why you refuse to eat.”

  “Take us to our crew, then we eat. If not, die. Is simple. No more talk.” He put his head down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes

  “You start eating, then we talk,” said J’koshuk, folding his hands in the sleeves of his robe.

  The minutes ticked by as he waited for the Cabbaran to reply. It was obvious he had no intention of doing so. J’koshuk sighed. Negotiation was not his strong point, not his caste’s calling. Force would get him nowhere in this situation as they were obviously quite prepared to die rather than cooperate. Or were they?

  He turned to one of the guards. “I wish you to pretend to kill one of them,” he said in a voice so low he hoped the Prime could still hear him.

  There was no response, no movement, nothing from the black-suited being that towered over him.

  Praying to the spirits of all the God-Kings since the dawn of time, he stalked over to the sleeping units, crimson robes billowing out behind him in what he hoped was an intimidating manner. He stopped beside the bed next to the one who’d spoken, and pointed down at the inhabitant.

  “Take him,” he said to the guard.

  As the Prime moved forward, the only sound was that of his footfalls as he drew closer to the Cabbarans.

  The speaker cracked open an eyelid, J’koshuk noticed.

  Bending down, the guard’s hand scooped up the Cabbaran, holding him by the loose flesh at the back of his neck. He squealed once, then hung limply in the guard’s grasp, eyes dull, obviously waiting for his end.