by Frank Morin
The man was smarter than he pretended, but sometimes he got stuck on an idea. He had hated Tomas for leaving the company and always considered it an act of betrayal. Worse, it was only after Tomas resigned as captain that Anaru won that coveted position.
“I’ve been on special assignment in recent months.” That much was true. “My investigations have unearthed clues that might help lead to Gregorios.”
Shahrokh hissed at the hated name, but it was Anaru who spoke. “The Tenth is assigned to hunt down the rogue. What were you doing on our turf?”
“It was not my primary objective,” Tomas said. “I ran across a heka cell that turned out to be connected with Mai Luan.”
“Leave her alone,” Shahrokh said harshly, destroying any chance Tomas could draw the conversation around into a warning of Mai Luan’s intentions. “Her research is of paramount importance.”
“Of course, sir.”
He swallowed the next words he planned to speak as Shahrokh’s gaze wandered to the fireplace and his eyes drooped closed. Tomas and Anaru stood silent for three minutes before Shahrokh shook himself out of the stupor and looked up at him.
“Tomas, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I need whatever information you gathered about Gregorios.”
“It’s our job to catch him,” Anaru interjected.
“You haven’t been able to find him,” Shahrokh said. “Time is short and we need that rogue terminated.”
“I’d be happy to pass on the information I have to the Tenth,” Tomas offered.
“No. The legion has never been disgraced by failure before. As of now, your other duties are on hold. You will resume command of the Tenth with Anaru acting as your second. You are ordered to find and terminate Gregorios. Am I clear?”
“Completely.” Tomas maintained his calm expression only with effort. This was a change he hadn’t expected, and it complicated his position immensely.
“We can take him without any outside help,” Anaru protested.
“I cannot afford to take the risk,” Shahrokh said. He huddled lower in his chair and his voice dropped to a hissing whisper. “Asoka’s teams failed. All of them! He was too close to the traitor. Might be compromised.”
“But sir—” Anaru tried again.
“No. You’ve all failed and now he returns just in time to threaten our very existence. He must be removed. Tomas was your greatest commander and I need him again.”
“Yes, sir.” Anaru spoke without hesitation but the glare he directed toward Tomas over Shahrokh’s back could have melted holes in solid stone.
Great. If Anaru didn’t spark a riot and lynch him, they would kill him for sure when his intel failed to produce Gregorios.
“I’ll put everything on hold,” Tomas assured the old man, “and report to the barracks first thing in the morning.”
“Good. Now suit up. You have work to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
He should just leave, should give Anaru time to cool off, but that glare could not be ignored. “Make sure the roster and status reports are ready for my review,” he told the angry giant. “And I’ll see if I can get you boys up to speed.”
“Excellent,” Shahrokh said, completely oblivious to the seething fury of the man standing right behind him.
Tomas left and tried to look unhurried as he beat a hasty retreat toward the elevator. Anaru probably wouldn’t attack him outright, but he needed to give the man a little time to deal with the insulting demotion.
Besides, Tomas needed his battle suit.
He was in such a hurry that the fact that Shahrokh’s secretary was not at her desk didn’t bother him. He barely glanced at the slender figure seated in a plush chair in the corner of the waiting room.
Instincts honed from years of fighting heka and rogue facetakers kicked in and snapped his thoughts into focus. He stopped in his tracks and turned toward that slender figure as she rose to her feet.
“Hello, Tomas,” Mai Luan said with a hint of a smile.
A crowned queen was never treated with more reverence than I was by those whole-souled western boys...And for seventeen long years I was just their little sister, sharing both their news of joy and sorrow from home. They didn’t care that I’d got a better rune, and I didn’t rub in the fact none of them could manage another.
~Annie Oakley
Chapter Forty
“Tomas, aren’t you full of surprises?” Mai Luan asked as she slowly approached.
“You have no idea.” Tomas resisted the urge to retreat. He could never outrun her anyway. He considered going for the pistol concealed at his hip, but she was too close. Even if he managed to draw it before she ripped his arms off, a simple handgun wouldn’t do more than give her justification for killing him.
“Where did you find a doctor with the skill to patch that wound?” She looked genuinely curious. “I thought I’d covered all the bases.”
“You’re not as clever as you think you are.” He lacked the proper weapons to beat her, but that didn’t mean he’d cower.
“On the contrary, I’m far more clever than a simple mortal like yourself.” She spoke it as a simple truth. “You ruined my first torture for Sarah. The next one won’t end as quickly for either of you.”
“I will kill you,” Tomas said evenly. Her words sparked a blossoming rage.
“Save your bluster,” Mai Luan said, patting his cheek. “I hear we’re going to be working together.”
“Never.”
“We’re not so very different,” Mai Luan teased. “You want to keep the council locked in the downward spiral that’s killing them. I’m just taking a different path, one that will actually grant them new life. For a time.”
“As slaves to you?”
“They’ll be alive,” she hissed, dropping her facade of good humor. “That’s more than they deserve, and more than anyone else is offering, isn’t it?”
“I won’t let you do it,” he promised.
Mai Luan leaned closer, her voice a fierce whisper. “Try to stop me, and I’ll denounce you to the council. How long do you think you’d last once they learned you’re allied with Gregorios?”
“What about Gregorios?” Anaru asked as he exited Shahrokh’s office.
Mai Luan smiled and Tomas forced down his anger. He needed to pick his battlefield, and this wasn’t it.
“We need to find him,” Tomas said.
Mai Luan winked. She started to turn away, but paused and frowned down at his shirt. “You have a new rune.”
Tomas retreated, but Mai Luan snatched him back. He stood several inches taller and weighed at least forty pounds heavier, but she didn’t struggled to haul him close. She lifted his shirt to inspect the healing rune.
Tomas pushed at her hand with all his strength, but couldn’t budge it.
“That’s how you survived,” she said. “But where did you find one with a rounon gift in time? And one skilled enough to compose a higher healing rune?”
Anaru approached with a frown. “You marked Carl’s body?”
Mai Luan laughed and released Tomas. “That’s how you fooled me for so long. You’re wearing another mortal’s form.”
“What did he fool you about?” Anaru asked, his already suspicious mind latching onto the phrase.
Tomas groaned inwardly. He hadn’t wanted Mai Luan to know the truth about him. Now she held his life in her hands again. Any more information she shared with Anaru could easily lead him to find the truth.
“You speak with a forked tongue,” Tomas growled at Mai Luan, smoothing his shirt.
“Name the rounon,” Mai Luan countered.
“You consort with rounon unknown to the council?” Anaru asked.
“In time of great need,” Tomas said. “If I hadn’t, the rumors of my death wouldn’t have been just rumors.”
“Who?” Mai Luan pressed.
The council regulated anyone with rounon gifts. Those who embraced the heka practices were eliminated. Hunters were tracked, and news o
f hunters in Rome would create a stir that might lead the enforcers to learn of Gregorios’ recent visit to Jerusalem.
Any mortals possessing a rounon gift who had not yet embraced a heka cult might be recruited to serve the enforcers, but everyone needed to be registered and monitored. It seemed Mai Luan hated the idea of unknown mortals with soul powers outside of her control as much as the council did.
When Tomas didn’t respond, Mai Luan said, “Speak before I lose my patience. Sarah’s too new to have any useful contacts.”
“Who’s Sarah?” Anaru demanded, looking angrier about being ignored.
“A useless mortal,” Mai Luan said, still grinning. “One I will soon eliminate.”
“Leave her out of this,” Tomas said. “You have work to do for the council.”
“Oh, that’s well in hand,” Mai Luan said. “Sarah owes me a debt, and I’ll collect every ounce of it in blood.”
“We’ll see about that,” Tomas said. He yearned to throw himself at her, but she’d only beat him to a pulp.
“Say hello to Sarah for me,” Mai Luan said. “I expect to see her soon.”
She headed for the exit, and Tomas watched her go, filled with hot fury and towering frustration.
Anaru stepped between him and the retreating Mai Luan. “Tell me about this rounon, and this Sarah.”
“Sarah’s a private matter,” he snapped. “We’ll deal with the rounon after we find Gregorios. He’s priority number one. Stay focused on that mission.”
They were running out of time at every level. Mai Luan held every advantage, and soon she’d become unstoppable. There had to be a way to block her. As he pushed past Anaru and headed for the elevator, he considered possible options.
He had to strike now, while Mai Luan considered him cornered and helpless.
I sometimes feel that I live the life of an actor more than any who perform in the companies throughout London. Every war, every treaty, all present a false front. The extremes of negotiation I must embrace are concealed from even my closest counselors. But it must needs be, for I am eager for my second life and the truth must be protected. The superstitions of the commoners, fueled by the hated hunters, would trigger civil chaos should they learn that facetakers move among us.
~Queen Elizabeth I
Chapter Forty-One
Tomas took the elevator to the second basement level. It emptied into a long storeroom crowded with shelves piled high with boxes, bags, and other containers. Half of the long fluorescent lights strung above the shelves were out, leaving the room in twilight. It smelled of dust and of mold. The air was probably older than most of the items waiting to be cataloged.
Tomas threaded through the piles of artifacts, antiques, and historical treasures to a small office at the very back that had once been a broom closet. A tall young man whose short-sleeved shirt barely contained his heavily muscled form sat squeezed into a swivel chair behind the desk. Papers and invoices crowded every available space, nearly overwhelming the old, blocky monitor. Almost hidden by the clutter, he typed with frantic speed on a hidden keyboard.
“Hey, Carl,” Tomas called.
The young man started in surprise and upset a tall stack of papers. Only by a lucky grab fueled by superb reflexes did he manage to salvage the stack. He glanced up and the smile that was starting to form on his face crashed into an expression of dismay.
“Please, not yet,” Carl whined.
Tomas leaned over the desk and displaced another pile of papers. As Carl scrambled to prevent them from triggering a general avalanche Tomas said, “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”
“I am,” Carl insisted as he rebuilt the disrupted papers into unsteady mountains. “But your timing is terrible.”
“You’ve already gotten way more time than we planned.”
“That’s the problem. Just last week I met this super-hot doctor fresh in town from Sweden.”
He swiveled the monitor, knocking a teetering stack off the desk.
Tomas peered at the close-up photo through the swirling paper blizzard. “I see what you mean, but I’ve got a new mission and I need it back.”
“Can’t you give me the weekend?” Carl begged. “You can have it on Monday.”
“I don’t have that much time.”
“Come on, man. Give me something. She’ll never go out with me if you take it back.”
“I got you a scar,” Tomas said. He lifted his shirt high enough to show it off. The solid scar looked a month old already. The smooth lines of the healing rune encircling it magnified the rough outline of the knife wound.
Carl winced, but then his eyes bulged in wonder. “No way! You got me a rune?”
“It was a knife wound,” Tomas explained. “Would’ve killed me otherwise.”
“That’s awesome,” Carl grinned. “But I was told I couldn’t handle any runes. It wouldn’t take.”
“Probably true, but I’ve bonded with them before and it worked for me. If it hadn’t, I’d be dead.”
“Wow. Think it’ll work for me too?” Carl prodded the rune with a finger.
“It should. Now that it’s sealed to the body, you should be able to get it to attune to you. Might take a while, but I think it’ll work.”
“Awesome! I can’t believe you got into a knife fight wearing just my wimpy frame.”
“I’ve been working out.”
“Me too. Just like we agreed. I’ve got to admit though, I’m not looking forward to the switch. I can do things now I never dreamed of.”
“Try,” Tomas said. “Now that my muscle memory taught your mind what’s possible, you can train your own muscles to do some of it.”
“Really?”
“It’s actually a training technique we use to speed up learning new moves.”
“Thanks.” Carl pumped his hand but his enthusiastic smile faded after a moment. “It won’t be enough though. Not at first.”
“It’s the best I can do.”
“Come on,” Carl begged. “I’ll do anything!”
That was exactly what Tomas was waiting for. “All right. Do me one favor and I’ll arrange another loan some time soon.”
“Yes!”
“Just for a few hours.”
“I’ll take it. What do you need?”
Tomas rose and led the way toward the door. “Come on. You’re going to help me fetch something. Bring your keys.”
Mortals annoy me. So busy scurrying around in desperation as their pitiful single lives run out.
~Asoka, facetaker council member
Chapter Forty-Two
“No,” Alter commanded. “Harder. You have to want to hurt me or you’re wasting our time.”
The two of them stood where he had caught her fist before she could hit him in the nose. He pushed Sarah hard and sent her stumbling.
She settled back into the stance he had taught her. He was annoying her enough that she really did want to hit him and wipe that smug look off his face. The two of them had trained hard for a couple hours and she was feeling exhausted but thrilled at the same time. Tomas was right. Alter approached training in a very different way and focused his teaching on brutally direct tactics.
They had jumped right into sparring and every move was aimed to disable opponents in the most painful way possible. Every blow drove for soft spots like groin, throat, knee, or nose.
“You don’t have the luxury of trying to fight anyone,” Alter had said. “You’re not big enough or well trained enough to beat most normal men, let alone an enhanced kashaph. Your only hope is to surprise and hurt them enough to escape.”
The moves made sense and Alter was a surprisingly good teacher, although he was enjoying the workout with her a little too much. It wasn’t her fault that the only exercise outfit she could get was a too-tight loaner from one of Quentin’s staff. The biggest hindrance was that if she ever really connected with any of the punches or kicks he urged her to throw at him, she could do some serious harm.
Not that she
had hit him yet.
She decided that needed to change. So she launched herself at him with the determination to bring the pain. He noticed the change and grinned as he swatted aside or dodged her blows.
“Good. Harder.”
Sarah lunged, trying to close the distance and slap his grinning face.
Alter abruptly changed directions, grabbed her hand and twisted her around, off balance. Before she could recover, he had locked her arms around her own torso and held her trapped with her back pressed up against him. His powerful arms held her tight in an almost-embrace.
“Stay balanced,” he said softly into her ear as she struggled in vain to free her arms and break away. “Or your opponent can gain the advantage.”
She stomped on his instep and he yelped. His hold loosened just a bit and she yanked her right arm free. She spun and tried to punch him in the throat.
He caught her fist. “Good improvisation, but you should’ve made a clean break so I couldn’t trap you again.”
Sarah tried to knee him in the groin.
Alter caught her knee and stepped close, too close to hit effectively. With his hold of her fist in one hand, and her leg with the other, he pulled her against him to keep her off balance and vulnerable.
He started to make another condescending comment so Sarah threw her weight against him. As he stumbled back, she wrapped her other leg around his and tripped him to the ground.
They hit hard but he flipped her over like a child and ended up on top, pinning her.
“Nice move,” he said.
“Not good enough. Let me up.” She struggled to push him off but he held her in place a couple seconds more, his gaze intent. He started to lean in closer, clearly tempted to kiss her.
So she head-butted him.
She didn’t really expect to connect, so she threw every ounce of strength into the move, hoping to get him off. She did connect, and actually felt his nose break under her forehead. She was only a little ashamed at how good that felt. Her forehead stung from the impact, and she cringed to feel his blood dripping down her face.
