Being of the Field (44 page)

In the midst of her daughter’s peril and with naught to do but await an outcome, Qusay-Sabah Clarona felt it was time she had a little heart-to-heart with her viceroy. The queen retreated to a small antechamber off the main council room to speak with Jalila alone.

Not long ago she would have handled her viceroy’s treachery differently, but at that time her instincts and thoughts were being controlled by the Phemoray. Today, her reasoning mind and judgment were her own.

‘My queen,’ Jalila said in greeting and bowed to hide her apprehension at being summoned into such an intimate situation with her royal highness.

‘Come in, Jalila. Sit down.’ The queen motioned for the other woman to take a seat on the lounge beside her, which she had never, in her fifty-year reign, invited her viceroy to do.

Jalila warily complied with the request and attempted to read her queen’s thoughts—usually this was impossible, as the crown of Phemoria cast a psychic shield around whoever wore it, but the queen was not wearing the crown today. Jalila honed in on the queen’s inner dialogue to hear…

What is it that you fear I know?

Jalila suppressed an urge to gasp as she sat beside her monarch. ‘Is something the matter, majesty?’

The queen forced a smile to inform her. ‘I have found love…’

This was the last thing Jalila had expected to be discussing. ‘That is well, majesty.’

‘…with a man,’ the queen added. ‘I believe you too have a male lover,’ the queen advised and watched the colour drain from her viceroy’s face. ‘I don’t know what Khalid promised you, but he has kidnapped my daughter, and plans, I assume, to produce a daughter with her through whom he can finally control Phemoria.’

Jalila was horrified and infuriated and immediately stood up, unsure how to react. ‘Shall I summon the Valoureans?’ She decided to keep her poker face.

‘He told you that you would rule, didn’t he?’ the queen surmised, and didn’t await an answer. ‘The truth is, he hates women and is protected by a like-minded masculine thought-form…just as the Phemoray granted me additional power and protection because of our mutual hatred for men.’

‘And now that you love a man?’ Jalila posed.

‘Has my power gone?’ The queen guessed at her interest. ‘You love a man, yet your power is unaffected,’ she bluffed, challenging Jalila, for the queen was still psychically bereft from being hit by Kalayna’s psychic neutraliser.

‘
Love
is a very strong word. I would have said
use
. Make no mistake, majesty, I love Phemoria and any alliances I have formed have been for the benefit of our people.’

‘Khalid does not care about our people,’ the queen stated, quashing her viceroy’s belief, ‘and although I thought I was acting in their best interests during my reign, I see now that I was certainly not. How many happy families have been destroyed due to our absurd laws!’ Thinking about the loss of her own family for fifty years brought tears to the woman’s eyes. ‘I won’t be ruled by the forces of hate any longer, I can assure you. If I could have taken that crown from my head, I would have handed it to you long ago, happily. The Phemoray are a curse and I will be overjoyed to be rid of them.’

Jalila was stunned and wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. ‘I agree,’ she stated uncertainly. ‘That is why I sought Khalid, to help rid the planet of your royal line and the witches you answer to.’

The queen smiled, appreciating her viceroy’s honesty. ‘I can well understand why you did what you did,’ the queen said. ‘I would have done the same thing in your place…but I gather Khalid did not
mention he is my half-brother, and part of that royal line you seek to expunge.’

The news winded Jalila. Hardly able to breathe, her fury at being lied to began to surface nevertheless.

The queen had recently come to wonder if Jalila had an amulet to protect her from psychic scrutiny. It was only after witnessing how easily Khalid had kidnapped her daughter from under the noses of so many psychics that the queen now suspected that Jalila had acquired her protection from her association with Khalid. ‘All Khalid really wants is to claim the inheritance he believes is rightfully his. I now suspect that Khalid has an amulet that prevents him from being discovered psychically and you are the only one who might know what that amulet is…I believe you carry such an item also.’

‘Why should I help you?’ Jalila folded her arms defiantly and allowed her true colours to show. ‘So that Phemoria can remain a sovereign-ruled nation, at the mercy of one power-hungry insane family? No, I don’t think so.’

‘If you help me…’ The queen stood to look into her viceroy’s eyes so that she might know she spoke honestly. ‘…the royal line of Phemoria will end with me and I will hand over to someone our citizens choose to elect.’

Jalila’s arms dropped to her side once more, as she was pleased with this arrangement. ‘No offence, but can I have that in writing.’

‘You shall have it,’ the queen stated, and held her hand palm out towards her viceroy as a peace offering. Jalila placed her palm against the queen’s to seal their deal.

Jalila then reached inside her vest to expose a metal amulet she wore. ‘This was a gift to me from Khalid. It was made from the melteddown ignition keys of the ships of Dead Man Downs and it has shielded me from the psychic sight of the Phemoray. Khalid claims to have one just like it, but I have never seen it on his person. If he is separated from the amulet, he will be open to psychic attack and able to be found with a thought just like any other soul in existence.’

The queen was very grateful to Jalila for disclosing this information, and was about to state as much, when Jalila added: ‘You should also know that he has stolen the crown of Phemoria.’ The fact that Khalid
had taken it and left her to explain the disappearance made her seethe even more now. If she’d only known the truth about him, she would have slit his throat long ago.

The queen shuddered. Why had Khalid stolen the crown? ‘It is well known that the crown will kill a man—’

‘Khalid is well aware of the legend,’ Jalila confirmed.

‘Please, no,’ the queen whispered as her panic trebled. ‘He can’t mean to put it on Taren’s head?’ The thought of her daughter suffering as she had suffered was intolerable. ‘The Phemoray would never align themselves with a man.’

Jalila wasn’t so sure. ‘Not even if he’s giving them what they want?’

Before Taren had even manifested in the next location, she could feel the cold dread of the place they were approaching.

Much like the Abyss of the Obstinate on Phemoria, the ruined spaceship in which she found herself was oppressive in the extreme. Even with her psychic powers defunct, she could sense this place had seen great human suffering—a pile of skeletons in the corner seemed to confirm her instinct.

‘Welcome to Dead Man Downs,’ Khalid advised, dumping her on a lounge and moving to the bar. He placed his new weapon upon it and fixed a drink.

Taren had read the dark and sordid legend of Dead Man Downs and never in a million years thought it would in any way relate back to her.

‘Being a scientist you are aware of cosmic order, and this place is the polar opposite for that witch pit on Phemoria. Every soul here is a male who hates the women of Phemoria to the core, just like I do.’

Taren really didn’t like where this conversation was headed. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want you to give me a daughter,’ he advised, raising an empty glass to her. ‘Drink?’

Taren’s heart started beating rapidly; she was appalled by the suggestion. ‘But you’re my uncle.’

‘Half-uncle, really.’ He tossed the empty glass aside, not bothering with her drink. ‘Hold her down, boys,’ he instructed his ghosts as he gulped down a shot.

‘What the…’ Taren yelped as she felt a great force bear down on her, pinning her back against the lounge. She struggled, but it just became stronger. ‘What happened to the wedding?’ Taren panicked, overwhelmed by her predicament.

‘I’ve never really been one for formalities, so I thought we’d just skip to the consummation part,’ he quipped, stripping off his jacket.

Taren felt ill. ‘Azazèl!’ she cried out as Khalid undid his belt.
Think girl, think.
There had to be a way to turn this situation around.
The banishing stone.
She still carried it on her person, just as Dr Portus had advised her to do. It was in her pocket, which fortunately was located right next to where her hand was pinned down the side of her body. She scrunched the fabric up with her fingers to draw the pocket over her hand and searched frantically for the stone.

‘We’re all alone, sweetheart,’ Khalid said triumphantly as he came towards Taren. ‘There’s just you, me and the ghosts of a thousand vengeful men.’

She felt the stone at her fingertips. Grasping it in her hand, Taren held it tight and closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the nightmare.

The pressure immediately lifted and her world slowed to a dreamlike state. She remembered her previous experience beneath the spell of the banishing stone as a veil rose between herself and her physical reality.

Beyond the misty veil, Taren witnessed her present reality unfolding ever so slowly. When Khalid moved towards her, Taren rolled off the lounge to avoid being trapped beneath him and noted that she seemed to be shedding a lot of light in the darkness of this place.

She is of the line of those Phemorian whores who launched us to our death!
Taren heard a man say, but it was not Khalid.

Within the misty veil of the banishing stone’s spell, she saw the ghosts of dead men venturing out of the shadows and into the light she was exuding—so many gaunt, harrowed faces.

A bit of light ain’t going to stop us from tearing you apart!
said another.

Where…the…fuck…did…she…go?
Khalid demanded slowly, infuriated out of his mind.

Taren wasn’t sure who was more ominous: Khalid or his ghostly crew.

The ghostly hordes gave a war cry and rushed towards her, but an atmospheric disturbance in both the inner and outer world, sent the spectres into retreat as a wave of force radiated out from around Taren.

Before she could wonder how she would defend herself without her Powers, Starman and Lucian manifested with their backs to her.

‘
Where…is…she?’
Starman droned as he looked around in slow motion, as did Lucian.

‘How…the…fuck…did…you…get…here?’
Khalid spotted them and did up his trousers.

Taren came up behind Lucian to make him aware of where she was, when she noted Khalid extend his hand towards the bar. Taren dropped her stone back into her pocket to ensure Zeven heard her warning. ‘Starman, the weapon on the bar!’

Zeven was startled to see Taren appear and by the time he’d comprehended her warning, the weapon was already airborne and heading for Khalid. ‘Mine!’ Starman exerted his will, and the weapon changed course to land in his possession. ‘This is a weapon?’ He boggled at the design of it.

‘So you’re the one.’ Khalid sized up his competition with disdain.

‘I guess so,’ Zeven said, flattered that his reputation preceded him.

‘One of my abandoned bastards, no doubt,’ Khalid taunted and Zeven was totally pissed off at this claim.

‘Just because we have the same ability doesn’t mean—’

‘PK only runs in the royal line of Phemoria, so either you’re one of mine or you’re an abandoned son of Qusay-Sabah Clarona,’ Khalid advised him with a grin. Zeven was rather taken aback by the news, so Taren was not about to mention that the queen had denied having any sons.

‘Enough,’ Lucian growled. He grabbed the weapon from Zeven’s hand and fired at Khalid, who vanished before the pulse hit him.

Khalid’s laughter echoed through the abandoned chamber. ‘You can’t defeat me here, this is my domain.’ The lights and air-conditioning cut out. ‘Get ’em, boys!’

Even in the darkness Lucian could see the ghosts as they sprang from the walls all around them, and the first to shoot past Starman served him a hard punch to the jaw sending him reeling.

‘Bugger this!’ Starman found his sensibilities quickly and willed the lights and air back on—he was stunned to find the room empty of any but his colleagues. Zeven received another punch to the jaw, much to his invisible adversary’s amusement.

A few of the phantoms took a dive at Lucian and Taren, but the captain saw them coming and dropped to the floor with Taren.

‘How do we combat a foe we can’t see?’ Starman yelled, frustrated in his attempt to get close enough to his comrades to get them out of there.

‘Duck!’ Lucian warned, as the pilot was about to be hit again and Zeven was quick enough to dodge the strike.

‘You can see these guys?’ The captain only smiled, and as the walls had ears and eyes at present, Zeven decided now was not the time to catch up on the personal gossip.

‘What we need is a diversion,’ Lucian commented. He spotted a case on the table, recognising it as the container for the crown of Phemoria, having seen the crown put to rest in it. He grabbed the case down from the table, and noting the lock he turned to Zeven. ‘Starman…’ The lock cracked open. ‘Many thanks.’

‘No!’ Khalid was heard to protest, but Lucian opened the lid of the case, releasing a seething mass of violent female energy onto the battlefield. Lucian fired Kalayna’s weapon in the direction Khalid’s voice had come from and Khalid was rendered visible.

‘There you are,’ said Zeven ominously. In the room, small whirlwinds were building created by the massing of angry spirits.

You dare threaten us!
The seething mass of feminine energy turned its attention to Khalid.
Reap the wrath of the Phemoray.

Khalid backed up and bolted through a door and Zeven attempted to go after him.

Protect the master!
The ghosts of Dead Man Downs flew to engage the Phemoray in battle.

‘Starman,’ Lucian called over all the atmospheric disturbance going on in the room. Objects were now flying everywhere! ‘He’ll know these ruins and he has phantoms supporting him here.’

‘I know what he looks like now. I can find him with a thought! I need to get him while he’s incapacitated.’ Starman jumped over a chair that had come flying at his legs.