Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) (18 page)

The driver became a lump of steaming black bones covered in greasy ash, and the upper half of the chariot was burned away. The kemat on the traces screamed in panic, trying to drag the remnants of the vehicle. Nate slammed the weapon into the holster and ran to calm the animals without getting kicked or bitten. He released the simple mechanism holding the team to the chariot, wrestled the kemat to the line and knotted the reins securely.

Atletl and Celixia had finished binding the priestesses hand and foot and were now working on the man Nate had knocked out.

“Situation under control,” Thom said. “Shall I let stampede the extra kemat?”

“Not yet. I don’t think we have much time to waste, but we don’t need stray horses, kemat, whatever these animals are, going back to the barn prematurely. Let’s retrieve Sarbordon and his sleeping pals from the storeroom first.”

“Good idea.”

Thom and Nate walked across the rutted ground of the plateau to the base of the pyramid. Eyes wide, huge smile on her face, Celixia clutched the scorched red box. “You found it!”

Atletl eyed them cautiously. “Truly, now you wield the powers of the god. You blasted the driver and his chariot with a wave of the hand, and both were as nothing.”

“Not a miracle, friend, merely a weapon. A potent weapon, I’ll grant you.” Nate showed Celixia and Atletl the Mark One. “We found these in Fr’taray’s storehouse.”

“One of the things the king sought most was the power to wield fire and death from a distance,” Celixia said. “He was obsessed with obtaining that ability in particular.”

“I thought all the legends about Fr’taray’s people spoke of them as being peaceful?” Nate questioned the differing stories. “Bithia certainly didn’t think her expedition had any weapons.”

The priestess frowned and shook her head. “There were a few tales indicating otherwise, but the stories didn’t come to us in the direct line of instruction from the first Hialar. I can’t say how truthful any of it may be, after all these centuries.”

“Does it matter?” Thom asked. “Let’s get a move on. You have a sleeping beauty to rescue, yes?”

“What can I do to help?” Atletl was ready for action.

“Can you handle a chariot?” Nate asked.

“Of course. Why?”

“Pick two teams of kemat for us. Stampede the others. As soon as Thom and I bring the rest of the soldiers, drivers and Sarbordon from the storehouse, we’ll be on our way to the palace to rescue Bithia.”

“He isn’t dead?” Eyebrows raised, Atletl sounded both surprised and disappointed.

“Sound asleep,” Nate said. “Fr’taray left a safeguard in his warehouse. I could open the door for him, but neither he nor anyone else from this planet could ever step through to seize the prize.”

“Ironic, ain’t it?” Thom seemed amused by the concept. He pointed at their teammate. “If you’re planning to come with us on the next adventure of the night, change into one of the guard uniforms. I stripped off a spare set for you, in case you planned on enlisting in the cause.”

Frowning, Atletl drew himself to his full height. “I’m a warrior of my people, sworn to fight Sarbordon and the god he serves until my dying breath. Let there be no doubt.”

Nate was amused by the way Celixia was lost in total admiration of the young warrior’s eloquence, her brown eyes fixed on his handsome face, her lips parted slightly. Nate exchanged an amused glance with Thom and moved off to the pyramid to finish his set of tasks.

He was impatient to be gone, back to the palace and Bithia. Events were going his way now, but Nate didn’t trust the good luck to last.

It never did, in his experience.

CHAPTER SIX

He commandeered only one chariot, because Atletl was the sole person with the ability to drive a team of nearly wild kemat. Nate and Thom had to admit their skills as drivers extended only to mechanical transportation. Nate didn’t want to risk a first attempt at working with living propulsion units at night, driving down a steep grade in a wooden chariot. The extra transport wasn’t needed, he decided.

The road descending from the plateau was deserted, and they made good time. Atletl had to lean on the primitive brakes to keep the chariot from overrunning the kemat on the final set of curves. Then he had to wait a few moments before inserting the vehicle into the traffic on the main thoroughfare into the city.

“What the seven hells is going on?” Nate watched people streaming in both directions on foot, on the backs of kemat, piled onto carts and in chariots. The moonlight dimmed and brightened as clouds scudded across the sky, but it was clear enough to see a massive and impromptu evacuation was occurring. “The city always this busy at night, Celixia?”

“Not at all. I can’t imagine—”

A squadron of soldiers galloped by, going away from the palace at high speed. Nate and Thom ducked their heads as much as possible to hide their faces, but the troop seemed preoccupied with whatever urgent mission had sent them patrolling, which apparently didn’t include searching for escaped prisoners.

“Something’s certainly happening,” Thom said, watching the riders gallop away.

“Nighttime sacrifices?” Nate asked.

“Not at this season.” Celixia shook her head and examined the crowds, openmouthed.

“Whatever has the citizenry and the army distracted works in our favor,” Nate said. He was optimistic about the whole plan, particularly with the alien weapons to back their play.

“We may have trouble getting through the gates to the palace compound.” Thom’s reminder impinged on Nate’s good mood. “The city feels like a siege or attack is imminent. The guards may be extra alert tonight.”

“The Githholz might be behind the upheaval,” Celixia said. “I’d heard earlier today their army was on the march, but no one expected them to arrive in the lowlands much before the second spring planting.”

Atletl laughed, even as he yanked the team to the side to avoid a lopsided cart with a broken wheel and the bundles of goods falling onto the road.

“Your foolish rulers consistently underestimate us—as if we couldn’t fight our way to Nochen before the first planting.”

“Sarbordon’s troops captured you,” she said. “Who was underestimating who?”

“An intervention of fate.” Waving a hand to indicate he took no offense at her remark, Atletl was magnanimous. “Obviously, I was destined to play a part in all the miraculous events and the remaining efforts to free T’naritza.”

“She prefers to go by her real name, if you don’t mind.” The time was right to set a few things straight. He didn’t want Atletl working with them under false pretenses. Neither he nor Thom was going to claim shreds of divinity, not that he ever had, except for allowing their enemies to think they were warriors of Fr’taray. The locals had declared Bithia’s father worthy to be a god, not Nate. He suspected Bithia would refuse to represent herself as a goddess once she was free of the device and her life no longer depended on the charade.

“Real name?” Atletl was puzzled. “Is she not the daughter of Fr’taray, then?”

“Yes, but her name is Bithia.”

The Githholz warrior looked to Celixia, who nodded confirmation.

“Too much for me.” Atletl flicked the ear of the left leader with the whip to keep the animal from veering to the side of the road as another troop of cavalry rode straight at them. “The games of the gods are above my head. I know my people fight to root out the evil worship of Huitlani. We despise all the blood and death and tribute he demands.”

“We’re on the same side,” Nate said, watching these new mounted soldiers pass them by without pausing.
 

Atletl managed to keep his team trotting at a steady pace. Nate admired the man’s skill and nerve and thanked the Lords of Space again for getting the warrior entangled in the enemy’s net with him and Thom.

Once the soldiers left them in the dust and Atletl didn’t have to devote his full attention to guiding the team, Nate continued the conversation. “Your people don’t worship Fr’taray, then? Or T’naritza? But you have her totem tattooed on your arm—”

“My people worship the Seven Spirits of Talonque. T’naritza is one, certainly…She Who Sleeps. The tolokon has always been her totem. I was born at the foot of the mountain where she lived before she established her residence here in the heart of the city, so I wear her totem.”

“Sounds to me like we’ve got conflicting myths here,” Thom said in Basic. “Does it matter? Let her be who he thinks she is for him and herself for us. Let’s get the hell out of here before Sarbordon works his way loose, or Lolanta goes searching for him.”

“I’ll have to ask Bithia to play along, or at least not be too hasty about renouncing her claim to the second name.”

“We’ll be at the palace in another moment or two,” Atletl said, setting aside all the theological debate. “What should I say if the sentries stop us at the gates?”

“They won’t.” Celixia pointed at the banner whipping from a standard at the back of their chariot. “The king’s personal flag. I made sure to fasten it on this chariot. The guards will bow and scrape and salute and ask no questions, I guarantee it.”

“Hope you’re right,” Thom said without too much optimism.

The young priestess was soon proven correct in her prediction, whether because the mass confusion and chaos prevailing at the palace matched the panic in the rest of the sprawling city, or because she’d fastened the sovereign’s ensign to the chariot. They were waved through the gate without a check. Celixia directed Atletl to drive them out of the central courtyard, indicating a narrow alley curving to the left.

“This leads to the private, royal courtyard,” she said. “From there we can go directly through the throne room and through the passages to the Lady.”

“Which leads to a question. How the seven hells are we getting out again, once we’ve rescued the damsel in distress?” Thom raised his eyebrows and glanced at Nate. “You planning to stroll through the palace with her in tow, climb into this chariot and drive away?”

“I’ve been puzzling over my options since we left the plateau.” Nate patted the holster riding at his hip. “I’m strategizing on the fly here. We’ve got superior firepower now.”

“Swords and knives will be effective enough for them if we get mobbed by a whole bunch of suicidal palace guards. Or even a pack of those fanatical priestesses. These Mark Ones apparently only work in single-shot mode. And we don’t know how long the charges are good for.” Thom seemed determined to make the worst possible case where the ancient weapons were concerned.

As Atletl drew the tired team to a halt in the small, deserted courtyard, he looked expectantly at Nate. “Orders, lord? Wait here, or go with you?”

“Celixia, any back doors out of Bithia’s chamber?”

“I—I don’t know. None were ever spoken of by the first Hialar.”

Nate jumped from the chariot, scanning the empty courtyard, his Mark One at the ready, while Thom assisted Celixia to the pavement. Nate assessed the panting team of kemat, sweaty sides heaving, and shook his head. “I may not know much about livestock, but even I can see these animals are finished. If we separate, no subset of the four of us has the slightest idea where to rendezvous. We go in together, and we come out together. Agreed?”

Solemnly, his comrades nodded.

“The outcome can’t be any other way,” Atletl said. “This was destined from the beginning, when we first were joined in the slave chains. I who wear the Lady’s totem, and you who are her warriors. Let’s do this brave deed.”

“Wrap your cloak over your arm so it covers your tattoo. No soldier of Sarbordon’s is going to be wearing a tolokon. It’ll attract attention we don’t need,” Nate said.

“Like we don’t attract attention otherwise.” Thom laughed. “My red hair is all the priestesses have talked about since we was captured, or so I’m told, and neither of us has the facial features to pass for Talonqueni, even in the dark.”

“Celixia and Atletl will lead, we’ll bring up the rear, keep our heads down, our helmets on and hope the dice continue to roll our way. We need to be quick about it.” To Celixia, he said, “Take the most direct route you know. Avoid walking us through public spaces as much as possible. Thom’s right—he and I don’t blend in too well.”

She nodded, hefting the weight of the red box, which Atletl had offered to carry for her, but she refused to be parted from it. Celixia set off toward the open portal of the palace, the men shortening their strides to keep pace with her. There was a hall leading from the open courtyard to the throne room. The side doors stayed obligingly closed as he marched past.
 

Fortunately, there was apparently no reason for other foot traffic in the royal corridor at this hour. The formal throne room was also deserted. For the most part, the chamber was in gloom, only a few sputtering torches along the walls providing illumination. Nate preferred things to be as murky as possible in case he ran into anyone who might issue a challenge. The four fugitives entered the long, rectangular chamber from the left side and veered left again to reach the throne dais and eventually pass through the leather curtains behind.

Nate climbed the steps and was even with the golden throne when a woman’s peremptory voice called out from behind them. “What are you doing there, guardsmen?!”

For a second Nate thought it was Lolanta. He and Thom halted, keeping their cloaked backs to the woman. Moving into the pool of light provided by a torch, Celixia wheeled to confront the challenger.