Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) (8 page)

“What exactly do you want from me?”

She came closer. “Give me the secrets of Fr’taray. I’m sure my god would be lavish with rewards.
I
would certainly be most generous.”

“I can’t give you any secrets.” All Nate wanted was distance from her.
The prison cell sounds damn fine as a place to be right now
. “You’ll have to wait for the outcome of the game, just as your husband does. Send me to my cell. We’re done talking.”

The queen rocked on her heels, eyebrows rising to her hairline. “You dare to give me orders?”

“I don’t think the king would appreciate your attempt to influence me to help you, instead of him, do you?”

“Issuing threats on top of orders? Truly you are a very confident man, or a very foolish one.” She came to him, framing his face with her hands and leaning in until their eyes were only inches apart. “I’ll enjoy sacrificing your heart to Huitlani after you lose the game. Death in the well is too simple for you.” With that, she flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Murrax and his two men tiptoed into the chamber a few moments later, escorted Nate back to his cell and left.

“What in the seven hells happened to you?” Thom’s voice was gruff.
 

“The high priestess wanted to know if we’re working for a goddess.” Nate laughed at the sheer absurdity of it all. “She didn’t like my answers.”
 

Nate walked through the swirling gray and lavender fog, calling Bithia’s name softly. He desperately needed to talk to her.

“I’m here.” The mist swirled away, and he saw her standing on the far bank of a small stream. Drifts of snow surrounded them both, and small chunks of ice floated by on the water. He could see her breath in the air when she spoke.

“We’re in your dreamspace this time, warrior.” Bithia’s expression reflected surprise and amusement as she drew the heavy coat she wore closer around her. “A strange but beautiful place you choose. And so cold. Not anywhere on Talonque I recognize.”

“We’re on Taychelle’s Planet, in the Sectors,” he said, staring at the distinctive red woods surrounding them and the snowflakes drifting in eddies through the air. “A polar environment year-round, actually. I guess my subconscious has had enough of the heat on Talonque.”

“I must thank you for your consideration, bringing me to a new environment and dreaming me a warm garment to wear as shield from the wind and the cold.” She took a few steps, smiling. “Even in the deepest of my own dreams, I remain tethered to the healing couch, so how did you manage this?”

“I have no idea.”
 

“Too bad.” Bithia sighed as she sat on the edge of a crumbling, rust-colored tree stump. She caught a few errant flakes on her hand and watched them melt. “I was going to ask you to teach me the trick.”

“But are you really here?” Nate didn’t know if he could trust his own senses that the two of them were actually conversing. Was it a true meeting of their minds on another plane, or was the meeting a dream, taking place solely in his own mind? Was it wish fulfillment not only of his desire to escape the boiling heat, but also to spend time with her?

Drawing a design in the snow with her toe, Bithia glanced at him. “I perceive this as reality, you and me in the dreamspace, talking. But if it was a dream of your shaping, I’d reassure you, yes? How can we know?”

“I know.” Nate strode into the stream, water splashing against his boots. He realized he wore his uniform, although even in a dream he couldn’t get his hands on a weapon.

“What are you doing?” Bithia asked with a tinge of concern in her voice. “The creek water must be cold, considering the ice chunks.”

“Testing a theory—”

Nate broke off as, at midstream, he ran into the ever-present barrier keeping them frustratingly apart. He stepped back a pace in the icy water and extended his hands straight out. The tiny green flickers of the healing machine’s force field outlined his fingers. “I don’t know whether to be happy we’re actually together, or disappointed I can’t reach you.” He allowed his arms to fall to his sides and retraced his steps across the small stream, taking care not to slip on the treacherous rocks, grabbing a low-hanging branch to pull himself onto the bank. Dusting his hands off, he said, “So we know. Not exclusively my dream. You
are
here, because the damn barrier exists. I’d dream myself shattering it into a million pieces.”
 

Bithia gazed at him quizzically over the blue fur collar of her coat. “Can’t you be content that we have another chance to talk? There’s so much I’d like to ask you.”

“There’s no time to waste.” Nate debated what to ask her first.
Her safety matters above all else.
“Does Sarbordon know the secret to turning off the damn machine? Does anyone? Do you?”
 

“I know the procedure, of course. My father feared I’d disobey him and step from healing too soon in order to rejoin the expedition. I was upset to be left behind. So he disabled the internal control, else I would’ve been long gone before you ever arrived on this world. Why are you asking?”

“And the king? Does he know the secret?”

She looked away for a long moment, then brought her lavender eyes back to lock on to Nate’s anxious face. “Yes. He knows.”

“How—?”

“I can only tell you what I’ve been told. When his people conquered this peaceful nation, they tortured and killed the members of the Hialar Clan, trying to extort all the secrets of Fr’taray’s powers and possessions and how I could be forced to prophesy, as the newcomers understood the situation. The deepest secret of the Hialar is how to release me, passed down to only a few in each succeeding generation of priests and priestesses, because without me at their command, the family would have no power. So the clan had no desire to let me escape.”

She’s bitter at the way the family exploited her, even after all these millennia. I sure don’t blame her.

Bithia went on with her explanation. “Sarbordon’s forefathers allowed the family to live, to ‘serve’ me as long as the clan obeyed the new rulers and woke me to prophesy on command. The newcomers found me useful to help keep the conquered people of the city of Nochen pacified. I’m viewed as a divine handmaiden to their own god, Huitlani. As soon as the current king came of age and was brought to see me for the first time, he became obsessed with me.” She shook her head. “An ancient prophecy of their own people—”

“Yeah, I know. I hoped you hadn’t heard about it.”

“How do you—?”

“Lolanta had me brought to her room for a chat today.”

“She hates me.” Bithia shivered. “She’s not entirely sane, I believe.”

“You can say that again,” Nate said. “How did these people learn the secret of the on/off switch?”

“As soon as the current king took the throne, he ordered Lolanta to sacrifice every single member of the Hialar family his soldiers could get their hands on. I’ve heard hints many in the extended clan may have escaped to the lands of the Githholz tribes. Those he did capture were killed, one at a time, in front of the others.” Tears were slowly coursing down Bithia’s cheeks. “I’m told the family went to their deaths proudly, in silence. But Celixia was only a little girl at the time, and all she understood was if she told the secret her grandfather had shared with her, she could save her mother.”

“So she did.”

“I don’t blame her.” Bithia wiped the tears from her cheeks. “If only I’d known what was going on, I’d gladly have given them the secret. So much pain, suffering…all because of me.”

“Pretty standard approach for a conquering race to destroy or assimilate elements of the primary religion of the subjugated,” Nate said. “Don’t blame yourself. Atrocities would have happened whether there’d been a real person such as yourself at the heart of the Hialar Clan’s beliefs, or a mythical god figure.”

She clenched her jaw. “If I had a fraction of the powers the believers credit me with, all these people would be blasted and dead, the king dying first.”
 

“Did he spare Celixia’s mother?”

“I’m told he did. But he also took her as a concubine for a while, until she died suddenly. I wondered if she took her own life, or whether Lolanta had a hand in it. Either way, the mother taught Celixia the full duties of a ‘priestess of T’naritza’ before her death, and now she’s the only one left of her entire family, in Nochen at least. The king is determined he’ll awake the Sleeping Goddess, one way or the other, and so there’ll be no further need for the Hialar Clan. He hesitates to take the final, irrevocable step of powering down the machine.”

“Lolanta told me the same thing,” he said. “By the way, Celixia’s been watching out for my men and me, and I’m grateful.”

“Celixia is a good person. Brave. She feeds information to the rebels outside the city, spies on the royal court, and no one ever suspects. To them, she’s a child whose spirit the king broke long ago. To me, she’s a valuable resource and has explained much, including the significance of this game. She seems to believe she and I are partners of a sort. I asked her to try to help you as much as she can, make sure you’re fed properly, treated as well as can be under the circumstances. To make Sarbordon understand you have to be able to play a legitimate game of sapiche for the gods to manifest their will through the outcome.” Bithia frowned. “Hardly an aptitude I desire, but after all these years, I usually know the right things to say. Celixia fills in the blanks where I’ve missed a nuance or a new development. Or where she has her own agenda. But I—we can’t get overconfident.”

“If he is so obsessed with you and has had the means to set you free all this time, to get at you, then why hasn’t he?” Self-denial didn’t align with the ruler’s character as Nate had so far seen it displayed.

“Don’t forget Lolanta.”

“As if I could.” He had no desire to think about the devious, cruel woman.

Bithia laughed at the face he made. “The warrior king and the priestess queen rule equally here. She speaks directly to Huitlani, after all. He doesn’t. So the omens are never right for the ceremony her husband so desperately wants. The signs might have been favorable at the time of the triple eclipse. Even Lolanta couldn’t deny or explain away the rarity and importance of such an unprecedented celestial event. Fortunately, your arrival at the same time sent everyone’s attention in another direction as to how the ancient prophecy is to be fulfilled. The king’s terrified of Lolanta, you know. Anyone with any sense is.”

“He’s the bigger menace to you right now.” The idea of the ruler laying so much as one finger on Bithia made Nate ill and livid at the same time. “He thinks fathering a child with you will give him all the powers—”

“Attributed to my father and elevate Sarbordon to godhood,” Bithia finished in a soft voice. “Yes, I know, Nate. When he forces Celixia to waken me and if Lolanta isn’t present, he describes in graphic detail what he wants to do to me. It pleases him in a twisted way, just as it pleases him to inflict pain through improper manipulation of the device’s neural controls. The phrase I find in your mind is he gets off on it.”

“Twisted bastard.”

“Using the neural controls is another trick the Hialar figured out over time and which Celixia’s mother showed the king. The controls aren’t meant as torture devices, but improperly applied, the effect is to cause me pain.”

“I’ll kill him.” Nate made the vow with deadly sincerity, straight from the depths of his heart.

He opened his eyes as the door to the cell creaked open and the servants brought breakfast under Celixia’s watchful supervision. Another day of the endless sapiche practice under the blistering sun lay ahead. Not surprising that he’d dreamed of Taychelle’s Planet, perpetually covered in lovely, freezing snow. Nate knew his link to Bithia was gone until he endured another day. They communicated only at night, and then only if both were in the right phase of the sleep state. Last night’s contact had been highly unusual, and again, he had no idea how to repeat it.

The next night, Nate dreamed again. This time, Bithia was awake, waiting for him, staring eagerly into the mist from her couch. “You’re alive.”
 

Nate took his usual place next to the invisible barrier separating them. “I don’t know how much time either of us has, or how many chances we’ll get to talk, but we can’t afford to waste these opportunities. Much as I’d like to get to know you better, we have to prioritize getting out of this mess.”

“I can’t escape.” The pleasure she had shown at his arrival dimmed, replaced by sad resignation. “If it were in my power to aid you, I would, but I’m helpless.”

“Don’t give up,” Nate said. “There’s always hope.”

“Lecture me on hope after you’ve been confined as long as I have.” Her retort was instant, a bitter tone underlying the words.

“I need facts. I know you said the device holds you, but why?” The questions had been gnawing at him ever since he had first seen her. He couldn’t imagine why a member of a high-tech, powerful civilization had permitted herself to be so imprisoned. Unless her own people had left her here, which she’d hinted at in their last meeting.

She closed her eyes. He believed she wasn’t shutting him out, but rather, examining her memories. “Since you’re so fascinated, I’ll tell you. This was my first trip with my father to the outworlds. I’d been training for years to earn a spot on an expedition. Competition is—was particularly fierce for my father’s journeys. His workers split large profits and accumulated much prestige in our society. I earned my place on this team,” she said, head held high with palpable pride, as if answering an old charge of favoritism. “The last thing my father would do was select a person based on anything other than talent and knowledge, although many whispered I was chosen only because I was his daughter.”