strongholdrising (34 page)

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He woke covered in sweat and tangled in his sheets, her scent as fresh in his nostrils as if she'd just left his bed. Shuddering, he pulled himself free of the covers and sat up. The dream had scared him, full as it was of dark and disturbing memories. He'd thought he'd buried it so deep in his subconscious that it would never surface, but he'd been wrong.
Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he reached for the pack of stim twigs on his night table. As he pulled one out, he noticed that his hands were shaking badly.
Sticking the twig in his mouth, he bit down on it, the slightly bitter taste flooding into his mouth, bringing with it a brief light-headedness. He cursed himself for not anticipating the nightmare. But had it been a nightmare? Though he might try to deny he'd felt any pleasure, he knew the truth was otherwise. He knew now she'd drugged him. But why? Perhaps to keep him quiet. But why had she wanted him in the first place? Until then, she'd not shown in any way he could understand that she'd been interested in him. Had it been no more than curiosity?
From the moment Rhyaz had given him the message, he'd been afraid of meeting her again. The words might have been written by Kezule, but the General knew that what would draw him to the rendezvous was the scents; Zayshul's, and that of a Sholan. His deepest fear was that somehow, during that insane night, he'd sired a cub on her. How else could there be a Sholan cub's scent on a message from the Prime world? Neither their Ambassador nor his staff had taken their families with them to K'oish'ik. She'd done something to him that night, something that had changed him. Even the memory of her scent acted like a drug, with him the addict.
He had to see her again and find out the truth.
His teeth clenched involuntarily on the twig again, the natural stimulant this time clearing the last of the sleep from his brain. He lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he had the night he'd waited for death. The dream had reminded him of something else he'd tried to forget: he wanted her again, and hated himself for it. How, in Vartra's name, could he have paired with one of them, and want to do it again? She and J'koshuk had twisted his nature out of true, leaving him stranded between extremes; they were the reason he'd been rough with Carrie— and worse with T'Chebbi.
Angrily, he pulled the twig from his mouth, remembering his earlier dream of her, snarling as he threw it as far as he could. Round his neck, the torc began to vibrate gently, warning him his anger was reaching a dangerous level. His subconscious was making him face the past, relive each awful memory so he'd realize what had happened to him. He'd been told that the procedure they'd used would help him come to terms with the past but he'd never anticipated this! Lijou had taught him mental exercises to help him cope but his first attempts had left him afraid to try them alone. He was no longer afraid. If the message was genuine, which he feared it was, he knew he'd need all his wits about him in the days to come.
Kezule was no one's fool. He'd studied the main transcripts of Rhyaz's interrogations of the General, and read Dzaka's report on his and Kitra's captivity in the ruins. He knew just how dangerous Kezule was. With sleep beyond him, now might be as good a time as any to go through those exercises.
He took off the torc, setting it on the night table. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing and began to murmur the litanies.
Shola, Zhal-Ghyakulla, 29th day (June)
Kusac had awakened two hours later. His first thought had been for T'Chebbi. He sat bolt upright, looking around wildly only to see Rezac sitting calmly beside his bed.
"T'Chebbi's fine," the young male said. "Kaid told me to tell you they know you're not to blame." He picked up a mug of c'shar and handed it to him. "Here. I felt you waking."
He took the mug, not knowing what else to do. "How is she?" he asked.
"Sore. She's got three deep gouges about waist high on either side. Her long pelt kept them from being worse."
Kusac's ears flattened to his skull as he looked away. Putting the drink back on his nightstand, he moved toward the other side of the bed to get up.
"I wouldn't bother," said Rezac, a hard undertone to his voice. "You're not leaving here tonight. You can't undo it, nor can you run away from it, so you might as well stay where you are."
"I wasn't going to..."
"Don't give me that crap! We both know you were. Of all the mindless, stupid, insane things to do, that really takes the prize, Kusac. You risked her life!"
"You've no right to talk to me like that!" he snarled, sitting up on his haunches.
"I've every right, because no one else will," Rezac snapped, his dark hair beginning to rise. "Thanks to your stupidity, I'm spending the night doing nursery duty with you rather than being in a comfortable bed with Jo! I don't appreciate it."
"Then leave! I'm not asking you to stay!"
"And let you spoil Dzaka's and Kitra's bonding ceremony by disappearing overnight? Forget it!"
"I can't face them!"
"You're damned well going to! Just because you went through hell on the
Kz'adul
doesn't give you the right to behave irresponsibly for the rest of your life."
With a snarl of rage, Kusac launched himself at Rezac.
Rezac was ready for him and dived to the side, allowing him to go crashing into the chair.
Lying there stunned, he felt Rezac grasp him by the scruff and start hauling him to his feet. Training took over, and fighting the natural response to freeze, he forced himself to reach for Rezac's hand while trying to bend his neck forward to take up the slack.
"Enough, Kusac," he heard Rezac say. "I'm not going to fight you. You want to know what I really think now you've heard the response you expected?"
"What?" Sheer surprise made him relax and he'd have stumbled to the ground had Rezac not slipped his other arm round his chest to support him.
"I think you're being used," Rezac said, turning him around so they were face to face. "I know the Valtegans. Zashou and I spent two years living on their world as nothing more than slaves. They've conditioned you, turned you into an unexploded bomb, programmed to feel nothing but fear, trust nothing but violence. J'koshuk was no different from the Inquisitor priests we knew and that's what they did to those they took prisoner. Early on we managed to get a few of our telepaths back, but they were like you, emotions burned out, incapable of living without the constant fear and pain. The first two or three just disappeared into the night, gave themselves back up to the Valtegans rather than try to fight it. Is that what you're going to do? Just let them control you even now?"
He pulled away from Rezac. "I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, moving back to the bed.
"Sure you do," drawled Rezac, picking up the chair. "Your world was predictable. People meant pain. You learned to tolerate it, prided yourself when you could withstand more because you kidded yourself he wasn't getting to you." He sat down on the chair again. "Only that's not what was really happening. Every time the priest used the collar on you, he was causing damage to your central nervous system. They're keeping that information from you, Kusac, but I think you've got a right to know. I'm afraid you got a fair bit of neural damage and they can't do anything about it."
He stared at Rezac, shocked by what the younger male was saying. "How did you know?" he asked, sitting down. "I told no one."
Rezac reached out for the mug of c'shar and passed it to him. "Because when they took Zashou and me, they tried the same with us," he said quietly. "Telepaths had to be broken, made into amenable pets who would obey commands instantly. When they found out we were a Leska pair, we were taken to the planetary governor. It's all that saved us. So I know what you were put through, and why. As I said, they had torturer priests then. Even the Valtegans feared them because they were bred to love their work. And J'koshuk had special reasons to hate you."
Kusac took a drink, turning over in his mind what Rezac was saying. "What about the others, the ones who didn't give themselves up to the Valtegans?"
"I won't lie to you," he said. "Most of them eventually suicided one way or another, be it an overdose of drugs like you tried, or a suicide mission. Some even lasted for four or five months, not long enough for us to know how permanent the damage was. But we were at war, we were the only resistance Shola had. The stress and pressure on us was unimaginable. That's not the case for you. Are you going to risk killing Carrie and Kaid by giving in to this, or are you going to try to fight it? Until you do, you're still J'koshuk's captive."
"I know. I'd worked that much out for myself," he growled.
"Tonight's incident is private. Neither Kaid nor T'Chebbi want Carrie to know about it, so you're going to have to get up in a few hours and behave in public as if nothing happened. If they can, so can you," Rezac said, his voice hardening. "If you can't feel any emotions other than fear and anger, pretend! You still have the moral values you grew up with, you know when you should be feeling remorse or sadness. Say the words, try to sound like you mean them, even if now you don't, because in time you will. One thing we learned after Vartra enhanced our psi abilities was that the mind has an infinite capacity to change itself if you persist."
"You're still a youngling," Kusac said, his voice strained. "At least seven years my junior. Where did you learn all this?"
Rezac shrugged. "By living. On the streets of Ranz with the Packs, and here, fighting the Valtegans. You grow up quickly when you're constantly on a razor's edge. When the telepath program recruited me for the university at Khalma, I had to learn to fit in. Education was expensive. The other students didn't know my background, but they knew I didn't belong to their world." Rezac glanced at his wrist comm. "Look, we've got to get up in about four hours. How about we get some rest even if we can't sleep? We've got a long day ahead of us helping decorate the temple for Father Lijou."
"Aren't you afraid I'll leave when you're asleep?" Kusac asked with a touch of sarcasm.
Rezac leaned forward to touch his hand briefly. "No. I haven't had the chance to get to know you yet, but the measure of a person is his friends. I know Kaid and Carrie. You're a Warrior, Kusac. You'll fight this; you won't let them win now. And all your friends are willing to help you."
Stronghold, Zhal-Ghyakulla, 29th day (June)
The temple was beautiful, Kitra had to admit as she looked up at the pillars wreathed in summer flowers and vines. The air would be heavy with their scent, but she could smell little of them as they were overwhelmed by the perfume from the circlet of sacred nung flowers she wore.
She was getting restless. She hadn't realized the life-bonding ceremony would take so long. Carrie's had been short, she'd said, but then they'd gotten bonded in secret in the middle of the night. Sighing, she thought it must have been much more romantic than this, even though she'd have missed all the lovely flowers.
The Brotherhood choir was singing, the voice music strange to her ears because of its Highland influence. Smaller in height than the group of adult females who stood between her and Dzaka's family, she could see very little except their backs. She shifted her feet, stiff from standing still for so long, and glanced sideways, catching Mistress Kha'Qwa's eye. Still convalescing, Father Lijou's life-mate was seated in a chair on their side of the main aisle, not far from Father Lijou and the statue of Vartra.
Kha'Qwa smiled, then moved her hands in a couple of small gestures which Kitra recognized.
Not long.
Kitra grinned in relief and tried to remember what Dzaka had shown her for the Brotherhood sign to acknowledging a message. She gave up and just flicked an ear in affirmative.
An elbow dug her in the ribs, making her jump.
"Pay attention," hissed Taizia, glancing over her shoulder. "And for goodness sake, remember what you're supposed to do!"
Her mind went blank instantly as Taizia and her mother moved to one side allowing her to see Dzaka standing opposite her for the first time that day. Her heart leaped when she saw him, sword hanging on his left hip, looking so smart in his formal Brotherhood tunic and jacket. He was hers, her Leska, and very soon to be her life-mate. Nervously, she ran her hands down the skirts of her long green dress, smoothing out the imagined creases. Across from her, Dzaka's mouth opened in an encouraging smile.
Then Carrie was at her side, taking her gently by the elbow and urging her forward.
"It's time," Carrie whispered. "Didn't you hear Father Lijou?"
Panicking, she looked back at Dzaka, seeing him moving toward the center of the aisle with Kusac, waiting for her.
"No need to run!" said Carrie, trying to keep up with her as she hurried over to him. "He isn't going anywhere!"
"I'm not," she protested, coming to a stop beside him and taking hold of his outstretched hand.
"Not what?" he whispered, grinning.
"Running," she said as they began to walk toward where Father Lijou stood in front of the statue of Vartra.
"Of course not," he agreed, his hand gently squeezing hers. "You knew I'd wait for you."
They stopped in front of the Father, Carrie standing to one side, Kusac to the other.
"Do you have the bracelets?" Lijou asked Kusac.
He nodded and handed them to him.
Taking them from him, Lijou placed them on the small table beside him.
"We're gathered here today because Kitra Aldatan and Dzaka Dzaedoh wish to become life-mates. Is there anyone here who would deny them that right?" Lijou asked, looking around the congregation. He waited a moment then smiled at Kitra.
"Do you both wish to be made one, to share your life together from this day on?" he asked, looking from her to Dzaka.
"Yes," said Dzaka, gripping Kitra's hand more tightly.
Kitra nodded. "Yes."
"Blood is life, linking families and clans, bringing peace to our people," continued Lijou. "To be made one, you must share your blood. Are you both prepared to do this?"
"I am," said Dzaka, glancing at Kitra.
"Yes," said Kitra, eyeing the knife dubiously.
Lijou picked up the knife and held his hand out to Kitra.
"It won't hurt, Kitra," Dzaka whispered reassuringly, letting her hand go.
Nervously, Kitra put her right hand, palm uppermost, in Lijou's. Before she had time to think, the priest had flicked the tip of the blade across her hand and blood was welling up from a tiny cut. She bit back an exclamation of pain, but Lijou had already released her and had done the same to Dzaka.