Shadow Hunters (14 page)

“The girl?” Jake could not help himself.

Kortanul turned to regard him. “What of her?”

Before Jake could reply, Adun spoke. “Send her to my citadel. I would have all
the high templar understand what it is they are undertaking.”

“For a time,” Kortanul cautioned. “We would have word of her execution
swiftly.”

Jake shuttered his thoughts quickly. He did not want Kortanul to see his pain at
the thought of the young protoss, so proud and steady and vibrant, lying limp
and lifeless. If the Conclave decreed it, it would happen. The templar were
ever-obedient. The child would soon be the vanguard of slaughter, the first of
these separatists to fall for their ideals.

“Oh damn it. Damn it. Zamara, must I realy watch mass murder unfold? I get that it’s a dark time in pro-toss history, but—even the different tribes’ attacking each other was at least an honest mistake. This is …” Jake watched, his head aching even in his sleep, as Adun and Vetraas left the Khor-shakal.

“I show you nothing that is not necessary.” There was an edge to Zamara’s voice.

“Be silent, Jacob.”

They walked in silence for a while. Finally, Adun said, “Even without our minds
being linked, I know that this troubles you, my old friend.”

“It does. I am merely grateful the decision is not mine to make.”

“The girl … she was not evil. She was not even truly misguided. There was an
odd … merit to what she believed, although it seems at first to be directly
against all we know to be right. I need to know more. We, the high templar,
need to know more. The Conclave wishes the threat removed, and I agree with
that. The Conclave truly believes this is the only way. But perhaps these
heretics can be reasoned with. Perhaps they can be reminded of what it means
to be protoss. If they have concerns, perhaps I can allay them.”

“What if you cannot?”

“It may come to that, Vetraas. It may come to eliminating them one by one,
with my own hands, silently so that no one ever knows this threat. The
Conclave is right about one thing: It is an alarming development and must be
dealt with swiftly and quietly. We agree on that.”

He threw Jake a glance. “Never before have I disobeyed the Conclave. The
Conclave need not fear that I will stay my hand for squeamishness. But before I
act, I must know.

“Do you wish to accompany me, Vetraas?”

Jake blinked. “Do you wish to accompany us, Jacob?” Ladranix repeated in his mind. The powerful images that had filed Jake’s mind were gone. Rosemary nudged him and smothered a grin.

“I’m sorry,” Jake mumbled, “can you repeat that?” He wondered if Ladranix knew what had been going on in his dreams. His head throbbed, and he rubbed his temples. He was probably dehydrated, he thought as he gulped thirstily at the water Ladranix offered. It was, as always, metalic and warm, but it helped some. His stomach growled. Ladranix seemed startled. Rosemary laughed, and Jake blushed.

“It is cooler now. A better time for movement. We were able to find you some nourishment, though it is paltry. We are going to scout further, perhaps hunt some prey. If we supply you flesh, can you prepare it for consumption? Until then, this must suffice.” He extended his hands, each one holding something spherical and dark, with a ridged skin.

Sammuro fruit.

Jake stared at it. He recaled Ethan’s comment, recaled tasting the sorbet made from its juice. His tongue tingled at the memory, and over that memory, his own, was that of a protoss who had died long ago—the memory of holding the fruit and slicing it open, to give as an offering. But now here one was, in reality. It was not as large or as attractive as the one he “remembered.” Nothing here was as clean, as verdant, as it had been in the past. Everything that lived here was hanging on by its fingernails, and this little piece of fruit was no exception. Hungry as his growling stomach had proclaimed him to be, he took a moment to run his fingers over the knobby surface of the fruit, the skin thick and hard like an avocado’s. He took the knife Ladranix handed him and began to peel the sammuro. The scent was just as he …

remembered … it, and his mouth watered. The flesh of the fruit was shiny and purple and dripped with juice, and he bit deep.

“Wow, these are good,” Rosemary said beside him, peeling and eating her own sammuro fruit. Jake ate in reverent silence, deeply aware that this act connected the past and the present in a profound way. Inside him, he knew Zamara approved.

“I am sorry there is not more,” Ladranix apologized. “It is dangerous to venture too far without a great deal of preparation. We risk drawing the attention of the zerg if we do. But later, we wil mount a foraging party for you.”

“We have lots of rations,” Jake said. “We’l be al right.”

He sensed unhappiness from the protoss, something deeper than a host’s regret at not being able to supply more food for hungry guests. Jake frowned at Ladranix.

“What’s wrong?”

“Three more of our number are gone.”

“Dead?” Rosemary asked, taking another bite.

“Not dead. They have deserted.”

Rosemary paused in mid-chew. “Where the hel are they going to run? This is the only game in town.”

“No, it is not. There are the Tal’darim. This … has happened before. The safety they offer against zerg attacks is much greater than anything we can provide. And before we disagreed, Felanis and Alzadar were wel respected.” The unhappiness Jake was sensing from Ladranix grew. “Our numbers were far greater in the beginning. The Forged were initialy a few malcontents speaking out against our established way of life out of fear. But over time it has become apparent that we were losing more to the zerg than they.”

“Why didn’t you al go down to the chambers right away?” Rosemary asked.

“It has traditionaly been forbidden to us. So the Conclave declared it, and we obeyed. And truly, it is not our first instinct, to be hidden away in the earth, away from the life-giving rays of the cosmos. It was not the first thing we thought of when we were seeking shelter. Our homes, our cities—what was left of them; what was left of being protoss—that is where my mind turned. I … was foolish. Now not only do we not have the safety of this underground place, but our numbers are dwindling.”

“Let’s roust the Forged then,” R. M. said, brutaly practical. “Kil them, get to whatever technology Zamara’s dragged us out here to find, and kil two birds with one stone: We get what we came here for and you get a safer spot to escape the zerg. Then I guess we try to figure out how to get out of here.”

Ladranix shook his head. “Even if they did not have the superior numbers, Rosemary, we would not do such a thing. Protoss has not attacked protoss in a long, long time.”

Jake thought of Temlaa, lithe and feral and powerful, running through the prehistoric forests of this world. And he thought of Adun, ordered to slaughter every dark templar he could find, and balking at the order even as he seemed to be agreeing with it. It was obvious that Ladranix believed what he said. It was equaly obvious that while the protoss history was not quite as bloody in the past milennium as terran history, it wasn’t as idealistic as the templar liked to think.

That understanding must be a hard burden for you to bear, Zamara … you and
the other preservers.

… It is. But we bear it, because it is our duty. There are many things we must do
because it is our duty.

“Can they be reasoned with?” Jake asked, feeling Zamara’s sorrow as his own although he didn’t quite understand it.

Ladranix shook his head. “No. We have tried. I had hoped to be able to reach a felow templar, but … they shutter their thoughts against us and turn away. They are unreachable, determined to stay apart from their brothers and sisters. They even sound mad sometimes, when they hurl mental attacks at us, speaking of new power and mysterious benefactors. They have no wish to rejoin the fold.”

“Why don’t you join them?” Rosemary asked.

“Unthinkable.” Ladranix’s mental voice was rigid on this issue. There would be no swaying him, and frankly, Jake agreed with him.

“Then it seems we’re at an impasse,” said R. M. “We’re never going to get down there if it’s guarded as heavily as you say.”

Jake blinked. Why hadn’t they thought of this before?

Zamara knew his thoughts as they occurred to him, and she approved. “Unless,” he said slowly, “we know exactly what we’re getting into.”

IT TOOK ROSEMARY ABOUT A NANOSECOND TO figure out what Jake was getting at. She laughed.

“They’l sense me coming from a kilometer away. Besides, why send a human? Can’t one of you protoss do it?”

They can shutter their minds, and they can move quietly,
Zamara said.
But this is
a place that has long been forbidden to my people. It is doubtful they would be
able to concentrate fully on the task at hand.

Jake relayed Zamara’s comments. Rosemary looked at him, clearly expecting him to say something more. He felt heat wash over him. “Um … and, wel, you kind of have more experience at this sort of thing than they do.”

“At breaking, entering, and sneaking around? You raise a good point. You al have agreed to not read my mind, even though I know you can do so easily.” She looked a little uncomfortable. “I, uh … appreciate that. But what’s to stop the Tal’darim from detecting me? You can’t tel me they wouldn’t pick up on a human.”

If she will let me, I can put up a screen,
Zamara told Jake.

“Zamara can put up a screen, to shield your presence from them.”

Rosemary’s blue eyes hardened. In recent days, Jake thought he had seen a bit of a softening, a sense of opening and maybe even trust … maybe even liking … from the beautiful assassin. Now, she looked just like the woman who had had no compunctions about pointing the business end of a rifle at him.

“Like hel,” she said.

As Zamara spoke in his mind, Jake relayed the information. “She won’t need to do any … rewiring to you. And it won’t last very long … just a few hours. Just long enough for you to get in, check it out, and get back to us.”

She didn’t reply immediately. Jake took that as a good sign and continued. “Zamara has an eidetic memory. We can sketch out a detailed map of the inside of the chambers. Zamara knows exactly where you need to go.”

A muscle worked in Rosemary’s jaw. Zamara began to speak again, calmly laying out her plan and providing logical reasons that Rosemary should attempt the endeavor. Jake stayed silent. Zamara paused, and he sensed her confusion and irritation, then understanding as she read his thoughts before he could even form them into words.

Rosemary would have the final word on this. And her decision would not come from persuasion, or logic, or sound plans. If she agreed, then al those things would come into play, of course, and would be vital to the success of the mission. But first, Rosemary Dahl, assassin, black marketer, victim and victimizer, would have to make the decision to put herself in a position of vulnerability for the good of al of them.

That choice had to come from her. And so Jake waited.

“I go in wel armed,” she said at last. “And at the first sign of trouble I either open fire or turn tail. I’m not going to be a hero for you.”

Jake felt the smile spreading across his face. “Do what you have to do to get back safely.”

Her eyes flitted to his, and she nodded. “Al right. So, let’s get cracking on this map.”

Like Temlaa and Savassan before them, Zamara and Jake had to rely on nontraditional materials to draw the map. With their finely honed mental communication abilities, the protoss had had no need recently to write anything down.

Each day was about simple survival. Gone for the most part were the luxuries of art and records and literature. There had been some attempt to make this makeshift refugee camp a place of beauty amid the ruins, but no one had any writing instruments of any sort. That night, a smal party ventured forth into the closest forested area in search of wood for fires and beasts for food for the humans. Rosemary and Jake went with them. Ladranix had been reluctant to permit Jake to accompany them, hesitant to risk the precious preserver he bore, but Jake had insisted.

They took a smal vessel and navigated to an area that was relatively clear of zerg.

The protoss disembarked in silence, their eyes glowing in the darkness, their movements lithe as Temlaa’s on the hunt but with a more elegant bearing, carrying terran rifles instead of spears. Ladranix and the other templar in particular Jake found compeling to watch. Their telepathy enabled them to hunt in almost total silence as they spread out in groups of two, searching for traces of
kal-taar
or the more obvious burrows of the lombads. They employed technology, but also their ancient senses of sound and smel and sight and telepathy, and after about an hour it became apparent that there were no prey animals readily available.

They turned their attention to gathering wood, moving deep beneath the canopy to find pockets that were stil dry. Quickly they found the dead trees and began to hack off dry limbs.

One of the females suddenly started. “Zerg,” she said.

Jake knew what she knew—a smal band of zerg, eight of them, their thoughts manic and bestial, were miling about a short way away. “They do not seem to have noticed us,” she said, “but we should go. Now.”

Jake thought about the two encounters he’d had with the things and agreed wholeheartedly. They hurried back the way they had come, their scout monitoring the erratic thoughts of the beast the whole time. Suddenly she shouted in his mind.