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back to the horizon--"when I lost contact with my capital. Thought it was the
atmosphere or some such thing. Then I
caught a garbled distress call and nothing more."
"I've been trying to save some of my people all night. The ladulta told me you
were coming up, so I
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waited here till dawn, hoping I could rescue some more victims and then link
up with you and get some answers."
"If she wants a war, she has one," Tulana finished darkly.
"We've got to get back to Asmara and organize," Leti said. "Once she's home, I
think she'll open a portal that we will not be able to contain."
"She's halfway back already," Tulana told her.
"How do you know that?" Mark asked.
"A ladulta died to find out for me. Damn it, she murdered him. His mate called
the news up to us; it came in just as I got word that you had landed out
here." Mark felt a ripple of anxiety, and Tulana shook his head.
"Sul's with the ship. They've got their blood up, I've never seen them this
mad before. In my realm, to kill a ladulta is a capital crime. They've never
had anything like this happen to them before."
"It's still a capital crime," and as Tulana spoke, the ladulta circling the
raft started a bone-chilling chant.
"Can you people fly another hour?" the prince asked. "
Cloud Dancer's closing in from the west. Once we land on it, we could come
about and get another hundred and fifty miles closer to the coast while you
rest."
"We could try," Mark replied, feeling for the first time in two days that
perhaps they might have a chance after all.
Mark woke from a dreamless, exhausted sleep to see Leti kneeling beside him.
"Time to move," Leti whispered, smiling wanly at him.
Mark could not help but notice that she had seemed to age overnight. Her
features were drawn, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot from exhaustion and
fear. Standing, she stepped to Walker's side and gently touched him on the
shoulder.
Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Mark stepped out of the cabin he had been
sharing with Walker and
Kochanski, and climbed the ladder onto the windswept deck. Ikawa was already
awake, looking toward the sun which now hung low on the western horizon.
"Sleep well?" Ikawa asked, holding out a flask of wine. Mark took a mouthful,
swished it around, and spat it over the railing.
"I could sleep for a week," he said.
"When this is over with," Ikawa replied, trying to smile.
"It always seems that there's a next time, though. On Earth there never seemed
to be enough time just to sleep. Then the war of Sarnak, and now this. Damn
it, can't we just have peace?"
"You have to play the cards life deals you, unfortunately," Ikawa said
quietly.
The response caught Mark off guard. Yet as he thought, he knew that it was
moments such as this that somehow gave a purpose beyond life itself. He still
did not know what had happened to Allic, to Jartan, and to Storm. Was she
still alive, or was this action of Patrice's tied into a far broader plan
which in a matter of days could spell his doom and the end of all he had so
come to love? Never had her love for him seemed so precious. If only he could
be with her, he thought wistfully. If only he was sure he would see her again.
"The samurai understands the intertwining of life, of death, of peace and war,
and how one does not exist without the other," Ikawa whispered. "Chances are
we have already lost. Tulana just told me that the ladulta say she has almost
reached the mainland. We will not be there for another day."
Mark could not respond.
"Yet we still have this moment," Ikawa continued, "and we will still try."
"And if we lose?"
"Then it is all gone--this world, this beautiful world which I love now far
more than where we came from.
Knowing the evil we are about to face has made me love this place far more
than I could ever have imagined, because I realize how fragile it truly is. I
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think I understand how the gods who created this must feel, why Jartan will
die himself to protect it. Because if it was never threatened, we would not
know how precious it truly is. Your Norsemen knew this in the Dark Ages, when
even Valhalla would have its final day, and thus the moments of goodness were
all the more precious. If we understand that, then how precious those whom we
love and call our friends truly are. And how terrible the burden we now carry
to protect it for others, even it means that we shall die and never know its
pleasures again."
if
Ikawa looked over at Mark as if suddenly embarrassed.
"We better get the men ready to move out," he said evenly.
Unable to reply, Mark smiled. Their gaze held for a moment in mutual
understanding.
The rest of the men came up from below, some cursing and groaning, others
quiet, all with anger in their eyes as Tulana broke the news that Patrice was
even now reaching the mainland.
"Well damn it, let's get some flying done," Walker said, rising into the air.
Together, the group ascended into the afternoon sky, Leti and Tulana in the
lead. Turning westward, they disappeared into the clouds.
"Just what the hell am I going to do now?" Allic muttered to himself, peering
up over the lip of the cave where he had remained hidden for the last two
days.
The fortress was aswarm with Gorgon's minions. Where they had come from he had
no idea. They must have remained hidden on another part of the world and come
back.
The attack had been brutal and stunningly swift. Half of his garrison gone
under the swarm of the first overpowering strike. There was nothing to do but
run and hide.
He looked at the rest of his men. Dejected, they sat huddled in the darkness.
He could hear the rasping wheezing of their breath.
There'd been no water since this morning. The filters on their masks had long
since clogged and become next to useless.
His fantasies floated now between the nightmare bodies and a cold glass of
water--it wasn't even wine anymore or brandy, it was simply water. There was
nothing here at all to work with, nothing he could coax and change with his
powers into something they could drink. Perhaps Jartan could have pulled it
off, but where the hell was he?
"My lord."
Allic looked back.
"Edwinna's dead."
He looked into the shadows where a sorcerer sat, still cradling the woman's
head in his lap.
There was nothing Allic could have done to save her. He had drained what
little strength he had left into her, but the horrifying burns had simply been
too much for him to master. In another time, another place it could have been
done all so simply--but not here.
He cursed silently at his impotence.
A shadow winged through the blood-red sky, and he froze.
The demons were still looking for them. Yet it was not those searches from
above that worried him. As long as they kept their shields off and hid in the
cave, they would be safe; the landscape was a massive catacomb of such
warrens. Yet there were other searches as well.
Cautiously peering over the rim again, he saw a team attempting one.
A demon stood on a low rise not half a mile away. Beside it was one of the
nightmare perversions of humanity, a man with four legs, but no arms. Its head
was bent low to the ground; then it rose, hesitated, and turned to one side.
The creature moved into a hollow and disappeared from view, the demon
following behind it.
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It had taken Allic a while to realize that the creature was trying to find
them by scent. Ever so gradually, the demon--and their monstrous slaves--would
close the circle around them, flushing the sorcerers into the air where the
finish would be short and deadly.
Allic slid back into the darkness of the cave.
What would kill them first--the demons, or the lack of water?
Jartan must know by now what had happened. What the hell was delaying him?
At the moment, Allic almost didn't care. They were going to die, and when the
time came, he would lead one last sortie and take some of Gorgon's minions
with him.
Chapter 14 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]