Firestorm (3 page)

"Are you going to sit there all day and stare at me, or get on with the purpose of this meeting?"

Raina's dry inquiry pierced Marissa's romantic haze. The wind, whipping in and out of the vine-twisted bower, plucked at the wavy tendrils of hair softly framing Raina's face, blowing one curling lock loose and into her eyes. With an irritated motion, she brushed it away.

"Well? I'm waiting, Marissa."

Marissa swept aside an old, dried uva leaf that had drifted down onto the lap of her gown and sighed. "Yes, I suppose it would be the best—to get it over with, I mean. But where to begin?" She paused, pursed her lips thoughtfully, then plunged in. "We need you to return to Incendra."

Raina's head jerked around. She went pale. "What did you say? Surely I misheard."

"Oh, I knew I'd make a muddle of this!" Her friend threw back her head and closed her eyes. Then she exhaled a deep breath and riveted her gaze on Raina. "The Volans. We need a stone from Incendra that we think can be used to keep them away. And two Incendarians must go back to Incendra to retrieve a supply of that stone. You are one, and the other . . ."

"Go on," Raina urged sharply, when her friend's voice faded. This scenario was taking an unexpected and most distressing turn. "Who is the other?"

Marissa nervously glanced away.

"Marissa, who is the other?"

"A monk," the chestnut-haired woman sighed. "A monk of Exsul, to be specific. He, too, is an exile from Incendra."

"A monk?" Raina gave a disparaging laugh. "A man? Gods, Marissa, you know how I feel about men, much less some puling monk!"

"I'd hardly call a fifth-degree Grandmaster warrior monk 'puling'! And especially not one such as Teague Tremayne. Surely even you've heard of him?"

"Yes, I've heard of him," Raina muttered. "But I still don't care if Grandmasters of the fifth degree are said to possess unusual powers." Her mouth twisted in disgust. "All those tales are but a crock of barsa dung, I say."

"They're said to be capable, in the proper meditative state, of invulnerability to pain and injury," Marissa offered, beginning to grasp at anything to convince her friend of the monk's worth. "A talent that could well be an invaluable asset."

"And a lot of good that'll do me if we're set upon and I have to wait for him to go into his meditative state." Raina sighed and shook her head. "Face it, Marissa. We'll be long dead before he becomes invulnerable, much less wakes out of his trance to help me."

"Well, there are also rumors of his mental powers," Marissa added disgruntedly. "Like mind reading, for one, and some not so savory, like—"

"An ability to coerce or destroy minds that don't bow to his will?" Raina gave a snort of disbelief. "It's all monkish boasting, I say, and meant to intimidate and control. For all their exalted principles, these monks are no different than any other man. Liars, manipulators, hypocrites!"

"He is a strange one," her friend admitted, "even for a monk. But one way or another, they are bound by rules that forbid doing harm to further their own needs or desires."

"How reassuring. Not only is he a man, but a strange one, at that."

Marissa frowned. "I don't quite know how to explain it. There's just something . . . different . . . about him. Not that he doesn't seem a good and brave and fair man," she hastened to explain when Raina cast her a skeptical look, "it's just that he seems rather sad. Perhaps he, too, left Incendra under tragic circumstances."

"What have you told them about me?" Panic tautened Raina's voice and filled her heart. "You vowed never to tell anyone why I left Incendra. It's no one's business, and I mean for it to stay that way!"

"Oh, no, Raina. Never." Marissa took the red-haired woman's hand. "I never told anyone—not even Brace— about what happened to you. And I never will!"

"Fine." Raina withdrew her hand and leaned back. "I couldn't bear the shame of other . . . men . . . knowing that about me. I hate them all as it is. If they began to look at me . . . that way ... I swear I'd cut out each and every one of their hearts!"

"Brace wouldn't do that," Marissa hastened to her husband's defense. "He'd—"

"Pity me?" Raina laughed, the sound raw and ragged. "I couldn't bear that, either. I want nothing from men, Marissa, save to be left alone to live my life as I wish."

"Well, at least you'll get neither lust nor pity from this monk. He is forsworn to keep himself apart from women." She cocked her head. "In fact, I couldn't imagine a more perfect partner for you, if you must be forced to take a man for a partner. He doesn't want you and you don't want him, yet you're both trained warriors and Incendarians in the bargain."

"I never said I agreed to this mission," Raina growled. "You presume too much, even for our—"

"Ah, there, here she comes now!" Marissa exclaimed in relief, noting the approach of the woman she'd been expecting. As the woman walked up and halted before her, Marissa stood and extended her hand. "Come, Cyra. Allow me to introduce you to Raina."

Raina rose and eyed the other woman warily. She was small and delicately boned her piquant face and shoulders framed by a cloud of pale blond hair. If her simple garb of white overtunic and long blue skirt covered by a three-quarters'-length light gray open coat hadn't proclaimed her to be of the scientific bent, the sweep of her dark brown eyes as she scanned Raina did. The look had been sharply assessing and analytical. For all the outward semblance of delicate femininity, the warrior woman realized, this was not some submissive or ignorant female.

"Raina," Marissa intruded into her friend's thoughts, "this is Cyra Husam al Nur. She is one of Bellator's— and the Imperium's—most brilliant geophysicists. Cyra is also the person who developed the hypothesis for the device that might well be the Imperium's salvation."

"Then you're a woman worth knowing," Raina said extending her hand to the blond woman. "I'm a Sodalitas."

Cyra took Raina by the arm and clasped her hand-to-elbow in the traditional Imperial greeting. "I've heard of you, Raina. Your exploits as leader of that warrior women society have preceded you. I couldn't be more pleased that you've agreed to this mission. It's dangerous enough without sending some inexperienced—"

"I've agreed to nothing."

The scientist paused and cast Marissa a quizzical look. "But I thought—"

"Raina is correct," Marissa hurried to explain. "She hasn't accepted the mission as yet. We had only just begun to discuss this." She motioned to where two cushioned, brown-and-white mottled marmor stone benches sat at right angles to each other beside a large, copiously spewing fountain. "Come, let's move over there, where we can all talk in more comfort."

They followed her in silence, settled themselves on the benches, then looked up expectantly at Marissa, who still stood before them. Behind Raina and Cyra, the water burbled and splashed as it tumbled from the gaping mouth of a stylized stone rapax looming on its stone pedestal high above the large, circular base of the fountain. In the fading warmth of the dying sun, a cool breeze slid over their skin. Marissa repressed a tiny shiver, glanced from one woman to the other, and swallowed hard.

"Cyra was part of a scientific expedition to Incendra about six cycles ago," she began, focusing her gaze on Raina. "The ruler of the kingdom of Farsala requested the Imperium's help in locating a deep vein of precious aureum that reputedly ran through the vast Ar Rimal desert. While there, she made the acquaintance of the leader of one of the desert tribes"—she slanted Cyra an enigmatic look—"who led her to some caves at the base of the Barakah Mountains. These caves are quite unique in that they arc—"

"Guarded by firestorms," Raina dryly supplied. "I don't need a geography lesson on my own planet, even if I did leave when I was but fifteen cycles old. Just get on with explaining what Cyra has to do with this little quest to Incendra."

"Fine," Marissa muttered flushing in anger. "I intend to do just that, if you wouldn't be so impatient."

"Sorry," muttered Raina in return. "This is making me very uncomfortable, that's all. The sooner we get to the end of it, the better."

"Yes, perhaps it would be best to get this over with," Cyra briskly interjected. "I found some very interesting crystalline formations within those caves," she said, picking up the thread of the discussion. "A rare form of a high-frequency resonating type of stone, to be exact. The only other kind I've ever encountered were at the pools of Cambrai."

"The pools of Cambrai?" Her interest finally piqued Raina leaned forward, her forearms coming to rest on her outspread thighs. "But that's where the stone for the Knowing Crystal was mined. Are you saying this Incendarian stone is made of the same kind of crystal?"

"Not exactly the same kind of crystal," Cyra admitted, "but very similar. It's why we need it. The theory is that the Knowing Crystal kept the Volans at bay all these hundreds of cycles while they roamed the universe, seeking out and decimating other galaxies. It seems too great a coincidence that the Volans never once encroached on the Imperium until about four cycles ago, when Marissa and Brace managed to destroy the Knowing Crystal in the pools of Cambrai. We now think the stone of power must have been instrumental in keeping the Volans out of the Imperium."

"So now you want to create another Knowing Crystal." Raina slowly shook her head. "I'm not so sure that's wise."

"We're designing a device that'll utilize only what we believe are the neurologically disruptive aspects of the stone while screening out the other, potentially more troublesome properties. And since the two forms of crystal are different in many ways, from their hardness, color, and transparency to their specific gravity, electrical properties, and magnetism, we hope to avoid re-creating the same problems we encountered with the Knowing Crystal . . ."

"A very nice theory," Raina agreed, "with us, once again, the unwitting test cases."

"There seem few other choices, Raina." Her hands locked behind her back, Marissa began to pace to and fro. "The Volans aren't going to wait around for us to sort through all our options. We have to make the best decision we can with the time and resources available."

"And what of the electromagnetic storm about Incendra?" Raina rose and strode over to confront her. "I won't be much good to you if I arrive on Incendra dead."

"We've a Volan spy ship specifically designed to carry the occupants through the field safely. It seems strange that they possess such a craft, almost as if they, too, were planning on infiltrating Incendra."

"Or had their own purpose for the crystal in the firestorm caves," Cyra supplied from behind them.

Raina wheeled. "If that's the case, time is of the essence."

The blond woman nodded. "Exactly. And why we want two Incendarians to go. As natives, you'll both be more easily able to blend into the population. You know the land and language, and have a vested interest in preventing the Volans from succeeding with whatever nefarious plan they might have in mind for Incendra."

Raina laughed bitterly. "A vested interest? In that you're mistaken, Cyra. I don't care what happens to Incendra. When I left it fifteen cycles ago, I left nothing of value behind. Nothing, do you hear me?"

The scientist glanced questioningly at Marissa. "Then perhaps we must look further for another to accompany Brother Tremayne. I know it'll be difficult, finding another Incendarian quickly, but if she's unwilling—"

"I said I was unwilling to help Incendra," Raina snapped a fierce resolve forming within her. "I didn't say I was unwilling to help the Imperium. Moraca is part of the Imperium, and my sister Sodalitas live on Moraca. If I truly am so vital to the success of this mission, I'll do it for them—and for Marissa and her family—but never, ever, for Incendra."

Cyra eyed her intently, then nodded. "Whatever your motive, I respect it." She offered her hand. "And I wish you success."

Raina took her hand and shook it. "When do we depart?"

Marissa and Cyra exchanged hooded looks. "Within the week, if all goes as planned. We still await the monk's decision."

"He hasn't decided yet?" Raina's mouth twisted derisively. "His purported courage and altruism are most inspiring."

"Brother Tremayne arrived earlier today," Marissa explained. "He requested a short time to consider all aspects. He'll give us his decision on the morrow."

"Oh, he will, will he?" Raina's hands clenched at her sides and her chin lifted a notch. She, who had suffered unspeakable degradation and the cruelest of betrayals at the hands of Incendarians, was willing to go, yet this monk hesitated? "Perhaps I just might be able to hasten his journey through his terrible dilemma a bit."

She turned to Marissa. "Where is this indecisive holy man to be found?"

Marissa glanced toward the mountains towering over Rector. Already they were swathed in shadow. "Up there," she said, gesturing toward a tiny point of white illuminated by flickering light high on the mountainside. "Monks of Exsul never remain within the walls of a city after nightfall. They are forbidden to sleep among the laity. And it is also forbidden," she added, with a quelling look at Raina, "that any woman disturb a monk once he sequesters himself for the night."

Raina's gaze lifted to the mountains. "And when, sweeting," she asked with a taut, secret smile, "have I ever cared a whit for the laws of men?"