The Soterion Mission (13 page)

Navid saw it first. Lifting his head to make sure he hadn’t fallen behind Roxanne, he found his eyes focusing beyond her, at something in the distance. Dark and shimmering, it could be only one thing. Their destination: the green mountains of Alba. The end was within sight.

The Constant mission was not the only group to have reached its target. The three Grozny travelled light, carrying with them nothing more than a little food and water and a leather bag in the shape of a water melon. Having fortuitously taken a more direct route than their rivals, they avoided the desert, discovered an intact bridge further along the No-Man and arrived safely in the Alba region.

As the Malik had hoped, on two occasions they were helped on their way by unwilling guides. The first was a young Constant breeding slave stolen at night from a small gang of rival Zeds. Timur did not have to work on her for long before she told him what he needed to know: Alba lay midway between the direction of the rising sun and the sun at midday. To express his gratitude for such precise instructions, the Malik killed her rather quicker than he had originally intended.

The second victim, a Constant man, had been the back marker of an Alban patrol returning after three days in the field. Having unwisely left a gap of several paces between himself and the man in front, he was easily knocked down and dragged off without his friends realising what was going on. Fearing an ambush, they did not return to look for him. He proved an obstinate prisoner, however, and it took Timur a while to discover that the Alban stronghold lay only a few thousand paces away on the other side of the valley. He also learned that Roxanne and her accomplices had not yet entered Alba.

Having cheerfully finished off his informant, Timur sat on his own to work out what to do next. After much deliberation, he decided it would be best to approach the Albans and win their confidence before Roxanne and her supporters showed up. That would put him in an excellent position to control whatever happened next. It was time to deliver his message. This he accomplished that same evening, leaving on his own at dusk with the melon-shaped bag and returning shortly before dawn without it.

The mission reached the foothills a day and a half after first sighting them. As the road wound upwards, the climate changed dramatically. Trees reappeared, grass sprang up on the hillsides and nature seized hold of the road, sweeping large sections of it away in avalanches and covering what remained with a blanket of greenery. They found a stream and immediately bathed poor Sammy’s puffy eyes and battered, swollen feet.

“That’s better!” he gasped between the gulps of cool water proffered by Roxanne. “Soon wash all that muck out my eyes. Then I’ll be OK for seeing again, right?”

“With luck,” said Roxanne, wiping his face with a piece of cloth. “It’s amazing what a good wash can do.”

Though her words were optimistic, she was unable to disguise the uncertainty in her voice. The boy was not slow to pick this up.

“Give over, Roxanne! Tell me the truth. I can see you now all that yellow stuff’s gone – bit blurry – but I can see you. It’ll be fine, yeah?”

Roxanne stood in front of him and placed a hand over his left eye. “Can you still see me, Sammy?”

“Yeah! Of course I can. I’ve got two eyes, you know!”

Roxanne placed the hand over his right eye. “And now, Sammy? Can you see me now?”

“Not if you covers both of ‘em up, Roxanne. Don’t be silly!”

She knelt beside him and put an arm round his shoulder. “I wasn’t being silly, Sammy. I was covering just your right eye. I’m very, very sorry, Sammy, but your left eye isn’t working anymore.”

With a tiny cry of anguish, he threw himself onto Roxanne’s chest and sobbed inconsolably.

Although they didn’t know it at the time, the sight of a boy weeping uncontrollably in the arms of a Zed-marked woman of striking attractiveness probably saved their lives.

Alba’s security rested on two things: the position of their settlement on a rocky mountainside, and the skill of their patrols in ensuring no hostile forces approached undetected. Recent events had given this tactic a new importance.

Alban lookouts had the mission under observation from the moment it appeared at the edge of the desert. The person in charge of this operation was Yash, commander of a patrol of six archers. As soon as he was sure of the new arrivals’ identity, he sent a young woman running back to the settlement for orders. She returned that afternoon and told him that, however tempted to do so, he was not to speak to anyone in the group under surveillance. Instead, he must immediately kill all of them, except the woman with the Z-shaped tattoo. She alone had to be brought back alive to Alba.

Yash frowned and asked the messenger if she had heard correctly.

“That’s exactly what I was told, Yash. The words came straight out of Padmar’s mouth.”

“Padmar’s? Why her? Why not Emir Chima?”

“Well, they told me the Emir had a bad fall while showing the visitor the High Wall,” the woman explained nervously. “Not quite certain what happened because I don’t think anyone saw it except the visitor, and he was too shocked to say much.”

“Go on, Franghad. How’s Chima?”

“She’s unconscious. Because she can’t give orders, Padmar has taken charge. That’s why it was she who gave me the orders.”

Yash’s anxiety was mounting visibly. “And the visitor, was he around?”

“Yes. He was with Padmar – like he nearly always is – and he agreed that her orders were correct.”

Yash had never disobeyed the commands of his superiors. Nevertheless, something was not right. The intruders he’d had under observation were as the visitor had said they would be: one male and two female warriors, a Zed woman and a boy. But the visitor also said they would be cruel, and the tattooed woman would be their prisoner. This didn’t seem to be the case at all. Judging by their behaviour, the five looked as if they were friends. They chatted together, helped each other over areas where the road had collapsed and took it in turns to guide the boy, who clearly had difficulty seeing.

Watching from the bushes above the glade where the strangers were resting, Yash reckoned the scene below him was as natural as he could imagine. The boy’s crying was pitiful, reminding Yash of his own baby son. The Zed woman consoling him, who certainly didn’t give the impression of being held against her wishes, looked genuinely upset at the lad’s unhappiness. The others, stretched out on the ground with their weapons beside them, looked concerned, too. At least, two of them did. The woman with the dark curly hair seemed more interested in the slimmer of the two male warriors.

I can’t do it, Yash said to himself. Whatever my orders, I can’t shoot fellow Constants in cold blood. It’s only right that I hear what they have to say for themselves. If they’re who the visitor says they are, we’ll take them back to Alba as prisoners.

Signalling to his men to cover him, he left his hiding place and walked slowly down the slope.

Cyrus saw him first. “Who are you?” he cried, leaping to his feet with his spear at the ready. “A Constant?”

By now Navid and Taja had also taken up their weapons and were standing next to Cyrus in postures of defence.

“Of course,” said Yash calmly, keeping his arrow pointing straight at Cyrus’ chest. “I’m Yash, a Constant from Alba. And in case you’re thinking of fighting, I have five archers in the bushes up there with their bows trained on your hearts. One false move and you will all die.”

Cyrus checked the undergrowth where the man had come from. He was right. Five metal arrow heads were visible through the foliage.

“Good,” said Yash, who had followed Cyrus’ look. “Now it’s your turn to answer: who are you?”

Cyrus supposed the man’s suspicion was because of Roxanne’s tattoo. “Well, Yash, it’s not easy to explain, but I’m Cyrus and these are Taja and Navid. We’re from Della Tallis, a long way from here. The boy is Sammy, a refugee from the Gova colony.”

“And the Zed woman?” demanded Yash, nodding towards Roxanne.

Cyrus smiled. “Ah! That’s where it gets complicated.”

“I thought so,” said Yash. He was already beginning to feel justified in having questioned Padmar’s order. “Go on.”

“Well, her name is Roxanne. No doubt you’ll be pretty pleased to hear she’s from Yonne, the only survivor of a mission coming to read the writing on that steel door you’ve uncovered.”

“You mean the Soterion,” said Yash calmly.

Cyrus started. “Yes. But how come you’re certain that’s what it is? You could easily be wrong.”

“I’ll explain later,” replied Yash. He needed to hear what else Cyrus had to say. “Finish your story first, please.”

Cyrus was bemused by his insistence. Here they finally were, among the Albans, the people who had requested Yonne help – then why weren’t they being welcomed with open arms? And how come this man was so confident of the existence of the Soterion? Roxanne had said the Albans weren’t certain what was engraved on the steel door.

“Zeds ambushed the mission Roxanne was on,” Cyrus continued. “She was the only survivor.”

“And?”

“I think I’d better continue,” said Roxanne, carefully setting Sammy aside and standing up. “I was held by the Grozny Zeds for several moons.” She pointed to the scar on her forehead. “I was made a slave, tortured – and they gave me this.”

“Until, assisted by a companion, you managed to escape,” interrupted Yash. The story was as he had heard it from the visitor.

Cyrus stared at Roxanne. Companion? What was this about a companion? He was glad to see her as surprised as himself.

“I escaped on my own,” she said icily, her green eyes flashing. “How could I have found a companion in a tribe of Zeds?”

“Not a tall man with unusually pale skin?”

For a second Roxanne looked as if she would strike him. Cyrus took a step towards her, only to be waved away. “No, Cyrus. Thank you. I will deal with this myself.” She turned back to Yash. “Would you say that again, please?”

“I’m sorry if I upset you.” Taken aback, Yash did as she requested. “All I wanted to know was whether a tall man with an exceptionally white complexion helped you escape?”

The ghastly truth began to dawn on Roxanne. “Why do you ask?”

Yash shrugged. “Simply because he told us that’s what he’d done, that’s all.”

“He told you?” groaned Cyrus. “You spoke to him?” He clenched his fists in angry frustration. “I don’t believe it! After all we have been through – ”

“Wait a moment.” It was Roxanne again, clear and in control. “Let’s be absolutely sure, shall we? Tell me, Yash, what is this man’s mouth like?”

“His mouth? Well, it’s not what we call generous. It’s really thin, like a slit. And he doesn’t open it very wide, so you don’t often see his teeth.”

“Thank you. He has a Zed tattoo like mine, yes?”

Yash confirmed this, adding, “Although yours looks more recent than his.”

“It is,” said Roxanne sharply. “And where is he now, and what does he say his name is?”

“Well, he’s back in the settlement. He says his name is Abhay.”

Stunned, Cyrus and Roxanne stared at each other in horror and disbelief. They were too shocked to speak, and it was Taja, walking over to Yash in her commanding manner, who took charge.

“Yash,” she began, “we have a lot of explaining to do to each other. I’ll begin. That man, that visitor you’ve taken in, is not Abhay. I’m afraid you’ve all made a terrible error of judgement. His name is Timur, the Malik of the Grozny Zeds. As you surely realise by now, he’s the cleverest enemy you’ll ever meet.”

“And the most despicable,” added Roxanne quietly.

Yash’s eyes moved searchingly between the two women. “Alright, that’s your story. It may sound fairly plausible, but where’s the proof?”

“Proof!” gasped Roxanne, close to tears. “I’m the proof, you fool. Isn’t it obvious – ”

Taja put a hand on her arm. “Gently, Roxanne. Gently. Let me explain.” She turned back to Yash. “Right. When you first approached us, you were nervous. Why?”

“I had been ordered to kill you. I wasn’t supposed to talk to you.”

“Ah! Whose idea was that?”

“Well, it wasn’t Padmar’s,” said Yash slowly. “Yes, I’m sure it must have been the visitor’s. Abhay – the man you call Timur.”

“I’m sure it was, too.” The authority in Taja’s voice was almost tangible. “And why do you think he didn’t want you to speak to us, Yash?”

“If what you say is right, I suppose it was because he didn’t want me to learn the truth.”

“Precisely.”

The patrol leader was a good man, one strongly tipped by his fellow Albans for a position of high responsibility, and it was only after further discussion that he finally came round to Taja’s position. When he did so, he sighed heavily and raised his hands in a gesture of submission.

“To be honest,” he confessed, “I sensed there was something wrong with that Zed creature the moment he arrived. I should have followed my gut feeling and turned against him then and there. I feel bad because I didn’t – but also because I’ve now broken my promise always to obey orders. Caught both ways!”

Cyrus laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Yash. You’re not the first.”

“What d’you mean?”

Cyrus explained how, in deciding to become part of the Soterion Mission, both he and Navid and Sammy had faced the same dilemma. Like Yash, in the end they had trusted instinct above upbringing. One of the most important things he had learned over the last few moons, Cyrus added, was that being constant was not always enough.

Yash nodded. “I know what you mean. But it’s not easy going against everything you’ve been taught all your life, is it?”

“Never. Really painful, in fact. But you won’t regret it this once, I promise you.”

Yash shook his head in an effort to clear his thinking. “Right. I’ve made my decision. There’s no going back now, so let’s get on with it. You fill me in with what you know and I’ll do the same from my point of view. Then we can work out how to get ourselves out of this terrible mess.”

When Yash had summoned the rest of his patrol to join him, Taja and Cyrus outlined what had happened to the mission thus far. When they had finished, Yash told his story.