Keepers of the Flame (46 page)

“I
know,” he said.

Wait!
Power amplified
Sevair’s mental voice. People checked.
The Master is here. I can sense him.
If you kill the mutant soul-sucker, or when you kill all the horrors, he will
leave
.
We want him.

There
were only two knots of monsters left, both surrounded. Nuare swooped down on
the mutant soul-sucker, snatched it up, smacked it against a boulder.
It is
dazed but alive.
The roc sped to where Calli and Marrec were checking
volarans. Nuare dropped its prey.

Luthan
used the mental broadcast band next, calmly, incisively.
Faucon, you and
your teams report to the medica unit now! Any with slayer spine wounds may be
the next sickness victim. Sevair, find the Master. Divert him. Marshalls and
Chevaliers split to confine the horrors. Toy with them until I give word we
have the Master.

They
were flying close to Faucon’s teams. Elizabeth’s gaze fixed on her lover,
scanned his armor, looking for wounds. Nothing on his neck. His face was whole,
but his expression grim. She saw him stare at the man at his right. The one
showing a split shoulder seam of dreeth dragon leather, and a round acidic hole
in his upper arm.

Faucon’s
major domo. The man who was like a father to him. Broullard.

T
rusting Mud,
Sevair closed his eyes, tilted his head, searching for the warped personal Song
of a man he’d once known well. Familiar but not. It had taken nearly the length
of the whole battle for the Song filtering through his brain to make sense.
Sevair swung Mud toward a mass of heavy brush.

Then
Nuare was beside him, and Sevair controlled Mud’s instinctive fear of the roc.

Nuare
clicked her beak and projected her thoughts.
He is here watching. He has
another diseased-sprout and an “eye.”

“Eye?”
Sevair said, flying high.

Eye.
A small Powerful pebble to be implanted in someone. To see and report back to
the Master and the Dark
.

“That
could explain some things,” Luthan said, joining them. His volaran ignored
Nuare. “Like every time our Exotique Medicas try something new, the Dark wards
the next Chevalier seed against such a procedure. Surely one or several of
their solutions should have worked.”

“Huh,”
Sevair said. Pure glee rocked through him. “He was my assistant. I
trusted
him and he betrayed me. Now he’ll pay.”

“Wait!”
Luthan circled until he was face to face with Sevair. “What if we implant this
‘eye’ on
him
? If we send it back and keep a link with it, we may learn
what’s going on.”

Sevair
grinned. “I like that. We’ll do it. More suffering than a fast death.”

Luthan
matched his smile, nodded. “And I like a man who thinks on his feet, makes
quick decisions. Can you draw his attention so we can plant our own eye?”

“Ayes,”
Sevair said with harsh satisfaction. He and Mud landed, and he told her to
stay. He used Power to glide over the ground, to bend branches away from him.
If he’d wanted to question and kill the man, he’d have unsheathed his knife and
come from behind. He rushed forward and grabbed him. “Got you!”

The
Dark’s servant was monstrous, no longer a man. But he’d been a secretary,
helping with city business and architectural plans. Sevair had worked with
stone and hammer for decades.

After
a brief struggle, Sevair had his ex-journeyman’s thick throat between his
hands. He squeezed. Even a monster’s eyes bulged, and they flashed with fear,
which was gratifying.

“I
think I owe you something for all your good service,” Sevair said and tightened
his grip, wondering how much he could damage the thing. “Perhaps I should give
you to the roc. You know a roc now lives in Castleton, don’t you? Likes to eat
sangviles. You ever send more and we’ll bring in a fleet of rocs. This
particular roc might like Master-flesh too.”

As
Nuare’s shadow fell over them, the Master shuddered.

The
huge bird dipped, rose.
As easy as filleting fish, to open a small slice in
his scalp. You have distracted him well,
Nuare said.
I put the “eye” in
his scalp. He will not notice it.

Since
the man’s hair seemed crawling with vermin, Sevair didn’t think so either.

We’ll
check
,
he returned with relish.
I’ll shake him and you can see whether it falls
off.
He did so.

The
eye remains,
Nuare said.

Let
him go
,
Luthan said.
You’re killing him. We want him alive so the “eye” can see. Let
him escape.

Sevair
lessened his grip just slightly on the man-horror’s throat. Turning his head at
thrashing bushes, Sevair said, “Luthan is that you? Does the Singer want this
one? I don’t know that she’s ever interrogated a Master with one of her
Songquests. Might be interesting to see what sort of shape he’s in afterwards,
eh?”

Luthan
crashed through the brush. The man-thing-Master flung himself away from Sevair.
Cloth ripped and he was gone, disappearing in a stench of smoke.

“Well
done. I think he soiled himself, my friend.” Luthan clapped Sevair on the
shoulder, then continued quietly. “It was the right thing to do. If we killed
him we would not have been able to understand the Dark, in all its alien
impenetrably. He will translate the entity’s actions for us when he instructs
the horrors. And a more competent Master might have arisen.” Luthan lifted his
head and gazed beyond Sevair into the past or a future-that-never-was. Then
Luthan looked east. “The border is very close to being complete, only a few
holes. Some weak points, but we can leave and invade the Dark’s nest soon, Song
willing.”

But
while they’d been handling the Master, they, too, had been distracted.

A
woman shrieked. Bri or Elizabeth. The men whipped around, plunged through
broken branches of scrub, just in time to see a dreeth materializing above the
medical station and plummet down, wickedly sharp beak primed to stab.

T
he dreeth was
diving straight toward her! Elizabeth flung herself aside, fell, scrambled.
Fire flamed from the dinosaur-bird’s mouth, singeing grass, her hair. She
rolled, crawled. A pair of female Marshalls stopped the dreeth. They fought,
slashing at head and wings and horrible claws.

Too
close, too close, too close.

The
thing opened its mouth, fire spewed. One of the woman-volaran pair was simply
incinerated. The other screamed, she and the volaran fell. She’d put her sword
in the dreeth’s wing and as they plunged, it came down, too.

Then
Bri was there. Patting her all over. “Are you okay? Elizabeth? Elizabeth!”

“I…”
Her voice was scared down to her gut.

The
Marshall! She forced her weak legs to stand, her knees and ankles to move. She
was running to the dreeth, frantically looking for the woman and volaran.

Gone.
A dark depression in the ground showed where they’d hit and died. Shadowy
batons rose to mark the Marshalls’ passing; the real ones lay dull. The women
and volarans had sunk into the soil so soon. Or was it hours? Time passed so
oddly.

Then
Bri was screaming, waving a long dagger, shooting toward the thrashing dreeth.
“You tried to kill my
twin
!”

Chevaliers
and Marshalls around the monster moved aside for Bri. What was the
matter
with them? Didn’t they see she wasn’t made for this sort of life? Yelling words
even Elizabeth couldn’t understand, Bri stabbed the dreeth. Its truck-sized
head jerked, swiped at her.

Sevair
jumped on the horror’s neck. A horrible snap. He had a hammer and hit the
skull. His knife sawed the neck, severed it. The dreeth shuddered and the blood
pumping from a foot stump stopped.

Sevair
glared at Bri, blood shimmering on his knife blade and his hammer. Because of
her he’d used his cherished tool to kill. Fierce triumph glinted in his eyes.

“I
will fight for you, Bri. I will always fight for you.”

It
was a promise as much as a statement. Almost a threat.

Elizabeth
shook so she could hardly walk, but heard her name called over and over again.
Faucon. Broullard. She’d been looking for a net to carry Broullard. His best
chance was at the Castle, where Zeres and the medicas could form a circle.
Again. Must
not
be futile.

The
Marshalls’ circle was broken again, with the loss of another old pair. It
couldn’t be mended until they dealt with their raw grief.

To
Elizabeth’s surprise, Bri was organizing the medicas—none of them had died,
thank God—though a wildness showed in her eyes.

Faucon
supported Broullard. Everything had happened so quickly. Broullard’s hand
tightened around Faucon’s as he made to put him aside.

Elizabeth
shook her head. Since she wanted to keep on shaking it “NO!,” fold onto the
ground and cry, she straightened her spine and walked to them.

Bri
was talking to the roc, pointing to a net.

Carry
a net
.
Nuare snapped her beak in dislike.

“Please!
Just this once!”

Nuare
turned a baleful eye on Bri.
I have helped much this day.

“Yes,
but he’s important to my sister’s mate.”

Elizabeth
wavered toward them, spoke through cold lips. “Please, lady roc.”

Nuare
snorted.
Very well. You ride, your twin rides me. We will go FAST! Use
Distance Magic. Be there quick.

But
Bri had already thrown her arms around Elizabeth, gave her a quick hug, gave
her energy, Power. Bri’s dagger was back in its sheath and she was focused on
healing.

As
Elizabeth should be. She managed a jerky bow to Nuare. “Thank you,” she said.
Put a hand on Faucon’s shoulder, giving and receiving comfort.

“Let’s
go!” Bri said, and tugged on Elizabeth’s hand to an already harnessed Nuare.
When had that happened? Things were happening too quickly for Elizabeth to even
see
. She’d have to take hold of herself. She was a doctor, goddammit,
trained for emergencies, clear thinking.

But
that was in the hospitals of Earth. She kept her back turned from the
battlefield as she climbed onto the roc. Battlefields were not for her.

T
o Bri,
everything moved
fast
—her heart pumped quickly, her breathing was nearly
panting, and Nuare zoomed. When they reached the Castle, it was ready for them,
doors held wide and strong soldiers to take Broullard and run through the keep
to the healing room.

The
bed was clean and Broullard was placed gently on it. Bri and Elizabeth set
their hands on him. The tumor was already large. Gray tendrils strangled his
organs. Bri and Elizabeth connected with the medica circle and Sang.

This
was their battlefield and they fought valiantly, shrank the mass from fist
sized to a lima bean, snapped the threads with starfire, drowned them. Still
they lost.

“Broullard.”
Bri barely recognized Faucon’s voice. “My friend, my father. Stay.”

Broullard
fought, too, like the excellent Chevalier he was. But he was slipping into
death.

“Anything!”
Faucon shouted. “Spare no Power. I will give anything that he might live.”

Beside
her, Zeres tensed.

No
, she sent to
him, but he didn’t reply. Faucon could restore Zeres’s fortune. Zeres himself
was gaining respect every day.
No!

He
didn’t listen.

Zeres
gathered Power, took all the excess in the circle.
Sang.
Flung himself
into space and embraced the vision of the universe, the stars exploding around
him. The gray tendrils shriveled, the bean diminished to a new pea.

Everyone
pushed Power into Zeres. Then he plucked the mass away from where it nestled
near Broullard’s heart. With too much force. Broullard died. The deadly seed
broke open, a hideous black wormlike thing darting out, latching onto Zeres’s
energy, lodged in him, unfurled more tendrils.

He
had given his all to destroy it, had nothing within him to battle it.

Bri
focused the circle on Zeres. Threw herself into the healing starstream, opened
herself to the huge force between the stars. Lost control and tumbled around in
the Power she’d called as if she’d swum into a riptide. She gasped, floundered,
struggled to control it so she could heal. She grabbed the healing starstream,
planted her feet in the river, and
fought.

She
used
everything.
Everything she felt instinctively about healing with
her hands, every tiny drop of knowledge from alternative medicine, every smidgeon
of western medicine. All she’d learned on Lladrana of chimes and chakras.

Sought
out the evil gray threads of death, broke them again and again as they created
a web. They reformed.