Vasu stood on the wall and waited— hopefully—for their return.
STAR OF THE GUARDIANS
Volume One
The Lost King
by Margaret Weis
Even before Margaret Weis teamed up with Tracy Hickman, she had several writing projects in the works. Now, more than ten years in the making, Star of the Guardians is finally published. It's the page-turning tale of the man known as the Warlord and his search for the lost heir to the galactic throne.
“Ah, Dr. Giesk. I was beginning to think you might fail me.”
The deep baritone voice was emotionless, almost pleasant and conversational. But Dr. Giesk shuddered. Failure was a word the Warlord never spoke twice to
any man. The doctor could not remove his hands from the controls of his delicate equipment, but he managed to give the Warlord a beseeching look.
“The subject proved unusually resistant,” Giesk quavered. “Three days, my lord! I realize he was a Guardian, but none of the others held out that long. I can't understand—”
“Of course you can't understand.” The Warlord stared down impassively at the man on the table. He laid a guantleted hand upon the quivering chest of the man with as little regard as he would have laid that same hand upon the man's coffin. Yet, when the Warlord spoke, his voice was soft, tinged with a sadness and, it seemed, regret.
“Who is there left now who understands, Stavros?”
The gloved fingers touched a jewel the man wore around his neck. Hanging from a silver chain, the jewel was extraordinarily beautiful. Carved into the shape of an eight-pointed star, the gleaming jewel was the only object worn by the naked man, and it had been left around his neck by the Warlord's expressed command.
“Who knows of the training, the discipline, Stavros? Who remembers? And you. One of my best.”
The man on the table moaned. His head moved feverishly from side to side. The Warlord watched a moment in silence, then bent close to speak softly into the man's ear.
“I saved your life once, Stavros. Do you remember? it was at the Royal Academy. On a dare, you had climbed that ridiculous thirty-foot statue of the king. You were what—nine? I was thirteen and she …” the Warlord paused, “she would have been six. Yes, it was soon after she came to the Academy. Only six. All eyes and hair, wild and lonely as a catamount.” His voice
softened further, almost to a whisper. The man on the table began to shiver uncontrollably.
“Fascinating,” murmured Giesk with professional interest, monitoring his instruments. “I haven't been able to elicit a response that strong in three days.”
The Warlord moved his hand up to the man's head, the gauntleted fingers stroking back the graying hair almost caressingly. “Stavros,” commanded the Warlord, his helmeted visage bending over the man. “Stavros, can you hear me?”
The man made a slight moaning sound. A froth of blood appeared on his ashen lips.
“Be quick, my lord!” cried Dr. Giesk, “or you will lose him!”
The Warlord brought his face so near to that of his victim that his breath touched the man's skin, displacing the bubbles of blood and saliva on the gaping mouth.
“Where is the boy?”
The man shivered, fighting with himself. But it was useless. The Warlord regarded him intently. The gauntleted hand moved to rest upon the cold white forehead.
“Stavros?”
In a wild, tortured shriek, the man screamed out words that made no sense to Giesk. He glanced at the Warlord uncertainly.
The Warlord slowly rose and straightened. “Well done, Dr. Giesk. You may now terminate,”
FIRE SEA
A Bantam Spectra Book
SPECTRA and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are
trademarks of Bantam Books, a division of
Random House, Inc
eISBN: 978-0-307-48488-8
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Random House, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
v3.0
Fire Sea Page 43
