“You know,” she said, “upgrades...”
They followed the Katak tracks into the thickening woods. Sir Golan, in full armor, led the search party with Squire behind him. Mel and Silandra walked together. The noises from the town faded into the background.
“Why did you say only you could sense Sisa?” Mel asked.
“Only Sylvan women are psi sensitive,” Silandra replied. “Mothers and their daughters are especially linked.”
“Can you feel her now?”
“Only weakly.”
“But at least that means she’s alive...” Mel said.
“Oh, yes,” Silandra smiled. “If I didn’t sense her at all, I don’t know what I’d do right now.”
“You two must be pretty close,” Mel said.
“Sisa was always independent,” Silandra said. “She doesn’t like how aware I am of her feelings. She calls it spying.”
“I never knew my mom.”
“No?”
“I was an orphan,” Mel went on. “I never knew either of my parents.”
“I’m sorry.”
“But Sisa’s father is still around...”
“Bragor is a good father,” Silandra said. “He loves Sisa very much.”
“It must drive him crazy knowing he can’t understand her the way you can.”
Silandra laughed softly until it became a sigh.
“It’s not always a blessing,” she said. “When she’s happy, I’m happy, but when she’s sad, I can’t help but feel sad too.”
The search party wound their way between the larger trees, cutting through brush with Sir Golan’s sword. The trail cut by the Katak before them made the going easier and, Mel hoped, faster. The tracks themselves, four-toed feet, slightly webbed, were easy to distinguish from Sisa’s own tiny soles.
“How far are we from Gowyn?” Mel asked the robot.
“My GPS says approximately three miles,” Squire replied.
“Good to hear your satellite tracking is still working.”
“I must admit that Sir Golan is not well-versed in technology,” Squire said. “My capabilities have often proved useful to him.”
“Are you saying he can’t use a computer?”
“It’s not that he can’t. He simply chooses not to.”
“Why?” Mel asked.
“He prefers the simplicity of less modern things.”
“But he has you, doesn’t he?”
“He’s not a Luddite, Miss Freck.”
“Sorry,” Mel replied. “I’m sure it’s nice to have you around.”
“One would hope,” Squire said, “but I faithfully endeavor to be useful whenever I can...”
Sir Golan stopped suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Mel asked.
“There’s been a battle,” he replied, pointing Rippana, his sword, at several mounds sticking out of the leaves and grass. Drawing closer, Mel recognized some of the shapes as Katak corpses.
“Sisa!” Silandra started but stopped herself. “No, she’s not here. I can still sense her elsewhere.”
Among a stand of birch trees, froglings and fungus creatures lay motionless, spears stuck into the ground like poles marking a burial place.
“These are sporemen,” Silandra said. “This is their territory.”
“Perhaps they didn’t approve of trespassers,” the knight said grimly.
Something moved, snapping a fallen branch. Sir Golan was instantly on guard.
In the midday shadows, a large mound with four trunk-like legs moved toward them. At the end of a long neck, a face like a thick flower with four petals turned in their direction. The petals peeled open, revealing a structure like a starfish full of teeth.
“Get back!” Silandra shouted. “It’s a Kamal Maut!”
Sir Golan took a step backwards while Mel hid behind a tree.
“According to my translation,” Squire said, “that means Death Lotus.”
“Thanks,” Mel said. “Very helpful.”
As if ready to roar, the Death Lotus opened its maw wider, but instead of sound, a cloud came pouring out.
“Spores,” Silandra said. “They’re poisonous if you breathe them in...”
“I can’t get close without passing through the cloud,” the knight said.
“Maybe you should’ve brought a gun!” Mel shouted, still behind the tree.
“Didn’t you mention upgrades to my system?” Squire asked.
“Of course!” she replied. “Use the displacement field.”
“I fail to see how that would—” Squire began.
“Just do it!”
A dome of blue energy, with Squire at the center, burst into existence, enveloping the party beneath it.
“Now, walk toward that thing,” Mel said.
The robot started toward the Death Lotus, while Sir Golan remained in between. As Squire got closer, the toxic spores collected against the outside surface of the dome.
“Keep going!” Mel urged. “Just don’t let its mouth puncture the dome...”
The displacement field pushed against the creature, bending inward like a hand pushing against a balloon.
“You can attack it,” Mel told the knight. “The field is one-way.”
Sir Golan took a swipe at the Death Lotus, cutting into its mossy hide. Spurts of blood sprayed against the outside of the dome.
“Now I have you!” the knight shouted, sending his sword through the barrier and into the creature.
The Death Lotus staggered as its front legs gave out, falling clumsily on its side.
“Splendid!” Squire said.
Mel came out, brushing herself off.
“Yeah, well,” she said, “it works against solid objects as long as their mass isn’t too big. I figured it would work in this case...”
“But you weren’t sure?” Sir Golan asked, his eyebrow raised.
“Consider this a field test,” Mel replied.
Sisa felt sick.
The froglings had waded into the sporemen, killing them all while losing several of their own. Sisa wanted to throw up, but the head Katak who had survived kept tugging at her bindings, pulling her along.
The forest floor beneath her feet became damp as the land turned swampy. Also, the daylight began to fade and Sisa found herself tripping over roots lurking in the gloom around her feet, now soaking wet. The noises changed, too, as insects and lesser amphibians filled the air with a cacophony of different cries.
When Sisa saw the first skull, she didn’t recognize it at first. A series of long stakes, each crowned with a skull, led the way into the Katak village where campfires drew the froglings home like moths. Huts, made from driftwood and held together with mud, were nestled on bits of land surrounded by pools of water.
The townspeople came out to greet the arriving band of raiders. They gathered around Sisa, peering with wide eyes at her strange appearance. They took her to the center of the village where a large bonfire was burning. On the other side of the flames, from an earthen lodge larger than the surrounding huts, a Katak with black and yellow skin came tottering out. A vest made from dried reeds hung on his chest and he carried a staff with yet another skull on the end. Sisa wondered where they were getting them all.
He swayed back and forth from one webbed foot to the other until he was next to the girl. He looked her up and down, only then giving a loud, approving croak. His breath smelled so rancid, Sisa nearly choked.
What do you want from me? she asked, reaching into the old frogling’s mind. Distorted images flooded back to her.
Sisa screamed.
“Something’s wrong,” Silandra said.
“What is it?” Mel asked.
“I felt Sisa crying out,” Silandra replied. “Her thoughts were of something horrible, grotesque...”
Sir Golan stopped, both he and Squire looking back.
“Ladies?” the knight inquired.
“I think we should hurry,” Mel said.
“Without question,” Sir
Golan replied, “but we’ve lost the trail in this swamp...”
The forest, and the solid ground from which it grew, had turned to doughy mosses and muddy ponds filled with intractable reeds. The webbed footprints ended at the water’s edge.
Silandra focused her mind, her brows furrowed as she stared into the deepening twilight. She pointed.
“That way,” she said.
The knight started off again with Mel and Silandra following, but Squire remained where he stood.
“What is it?” Sir Golan asked, stopping.
“Terribly sorry,” the robot replied. “I appear to be stuck.”
The robot was in the process of sinking, the mud coming up to his shins and rising.
“This is quite embarrassing,” Squire said.
Mel shook her head at him. “The ground’s too soft.”
“We need to hurry,” Silandra said.
“Well, we can’t just leave him like this!” Mel replied.
“Go on without me,” Squire pleaded. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine here... alone in the dark.”
Sheathing his sword, the knight picked up a fallen branch and wedged it into the muck around the robot’s leg.
“While I press down,” he said, addressing Mel and Silandra, “you two push until we break the suction of the mud.”
The two women glanced at each other and then, together, began pushing on Squire as the knight laid his weight on the log. After a few attempts, the wet ground made an unappetizing sound and the robot came free.
On his back, Squire was emphatically appreciative.
“Thank you so much!” he said. “I was sure this would be my grave, neck deep in a bog.”
“Forget it,” Sir Golan said.
“As you wish. Deleting data file...”
In the mind of the Katak chief, Sisa saw a face, although it was more skull than alive. The eyes, suspended in the otherwise empty sockets, blazed fiery orange. With no lips, his teeth were bare, grinning a horrific smile. What skin remained was wrapped tightly like paper dried over centuries.
She heard her screams before realizing she was the one screaming. The chief poked her with his staff and she stopped.
The chief spoke to his tribe and the Kataks squawked in apparent approval. Sisa wasn’t sure what he said, but she thought it meant something like tribute or maybe gift. Or was it sacrifice? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
The frogling leader who had dragged Sisa halfway from her home to the Katak village became agitated. He grunted and pointed his spear at the girl and then back the way they had come. Sisa got the feeling he wasn’t happy with whatever arrangement had been made. Perhaps the cost of the warriors that died was too high a price to pay, but the chief was having none of it. With his staff, he gestured at Sisa and pointed in the other direction, deeper into the swamp. Eventually, the warrior relented, pulling on her bindings again. Along with two other Katak, he led Sisa away.
They walked down another trail away from the village. The natural light gone, one of the froglings lit a torch. Hemmed in by darkness and vegetation, Sisa couldn’t see much beyond the bobbing light. She became aware of shapes looming on either side of the trail. Most were about three feet tall but with smooth curves, making them unnatural in a jungle of jagged edges. They also leaned at odd angles as if a disturbance had pushed them up out of the ground. It was only until the frogling with the torch came closer to one that Sisa saw them for what they truly were. Like stone ghosts, they were gravestones that had sunk into the marshy ground. An immense cemetery, countless ages old, that time had flooded and forgotten.
Behind her, coming from the village, an explosion pierced the darkness.
Silandra said the Katak were normally peaceful, but Squire was finding that hard to believe as spears came flying out of the darkness. Up ahead, the bonfires of a village were visible.
“Should I use the displacement field?” Squire asked Mel.
“No!” she said. “It’s too weak. Use your energy shield...”
“My what now?”
“The thing in your arm!”
Surprised, like finding he had an extra elbow, Squire noticed a button on his left arm. He pushed it and a field of translucent energy, three feet tall and two feet wide, materialized. He lifted the shield, deflecting a spear harmlessly into the underbrush.
“Get behind me,” he said and both Mel and Silandra took cover at his back. Meanwhile, Sir Golan remained at the front, diverting incoming spears with his sword.
Mel reached into her satchel and removed a spherical object, slightly larger than her tiny hand.
“What’s that?” Silandra asked.
“A stun grenade,” she replied. “It creates a blast but it shouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Mel chucked the grenade toward the village. A moment later, one of the bonfires exploded in a shower of burning logs. Several froglings fled in a panic, their bodies covered in flames.
“Oops...” Mel said, her eyes widening.
“Let’s go!” Sir Golan shouted, rushing forward.
By the time Squire and the others reached the knight, Sir Golan had dispatched the defenders and had their chief on the ground, the tip of Rippana at his throat.
“Don’t kill him!” Silandra cried, gripping the knight’s shoulder.
Sisa’s mother knelt beside the elder Katak. The chief murmured a low croak, his eyes glazed by age. Silandra remained still, focusing on the frogling.
“What’s she doing?” Squire asked Mel.
“Talking with him,” she replied.
“Telepathy?”
“I guess so.”
“Can you upgrade me with that?” Squire wondered.
“I don’t think robots can use psionics,” Mel said.
“It would be nice to know what people are thinking.”
“Maybe...”
Silandra stood, but the old chief was no longer breathing, his eyes still open but lifeless.
“What did he say?” Sir Golan asked.
“There’s an ancient cemetery farther to the West,” Silandra replied. “They’ve taken Sisa there.”
“Did he say why they kidnapped her in the first place?” Mel asked.
“I’m not sure,” the Sylvan went on. “Some kind of offering...”
“To whom?” Mel asked.
“He said a strange, decaying man came to the village one day promising everlasting life if the chief gave him a sacrifice. The chief was old and dying, so he agreed.”
“A lot of good that did him,” Mel said, giving the dead chief a light kick.
“Please, let’s hurry,” Silandra urged. “I sense her fear.”
“Onward!” Sir Golan shouted.
With the warrior in front, Sisa in the middle, and the two other froglings in the back, the group followed a meandering path through the cemetery. Sisa, pulled along by the Katak warrior, kept a telepathic link with him so she could understand what he was thinking.
Keep moving, he said in her thoughts.
What is this place? she asked.
The garden of the dead, he replied.
After a few minutes, they reached a crypt of white marble, tilted slightly, with a pair of torches burning on either side of the entrance. From the interior, multiple creatures appeared through the doorway. Each was humanoid, hunched over, and at times using their hands to steady themselves as they moved. Their skin, where not covered by filthy rags, looked diseased and partially rotted.
Ghuls, the warrior said.
What do they want? Sisa replied.
You.
Sisa shrank away but the warrior yanked her back.
“No!” she said aloud.
In the distance, in the direction of the village, her mother’s voice cut through the night.
“Sisa!”
The girl struggled against the Katak warrior, but the other two froglings pushed her from behind.
“No!” Sisa screamed.
The Ghuls, three in all, met them just outside t
he crypt. The warrior chirped something from deep in his throat, handing the girl to the nearest of the creatures.
Sisa screamed again and, in the distance, her mother’s voice began shouting her name. The girl could see a light approaching, but still far off. She kicked at the Ghul, but he was surprisingly strong. He dragged her toward the crypt entrance.
“Sisa!” shouted Silandra’s voice.
“Help! Help me!”
Past the threshold, the stench inside the tomb filled Sisa’s nostrils. She made another lunge toward the entrance, but the Ghul gripped her arm tightly as the other two tugged at the heavy metal door.
Seeing the warrior still outside, Sisa thrust her thoughts into his.
Don’t do this! she yelled.
It’s already done, he replied.
She heard her mother still calling her name as the door shut. Then there was only silence and the entombing dark.
Chapter Fourteen
Sylvia Flax could smell Walter Ruggles’ aftershave. Hunkered down in the chilly, unlit hold of a Celadon starship, she recognized it instantly and knew he was somewhere among the other passengers, all held captive in the darkened room. Apparently, he had survived the pirate attack after all.
When Flax first got a whiff of Ruggles’ cologne, she was sitting in his cabin on the Jewel of Amann. It was one of several things about him that annoyed her.
“Why do you wear those glasses?” she had asked, sitting in his room.
“To see,” Ruggles replied matter-of-factly.
“Obviously,” she said, looking up from her datapad, “but why not get your eyes corrected?”
“I have astigmatism.”
“What about implants?”
“Not on my salary...”
Flax sighed, tilting her head.
“You’re quite a catch, Mr. Ruggles,” she said.
At that moment, the ship rocked sharply, and an alarm went off in the corridor. The jolt knocked the datapad from Flax’s hand. It slid across the floor and under the bed.
“Well, shit!” Flax said.
“It’s the IDEA people!” Ruggles shouted in a panic. “They found me!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Flax replied.
The lights flickered and Flax felt the artificial gravity fluctuate. Her stomach turned.
Ruggles was heading toward the closet.
Imperium Chronicles Box Set Page 43
