Jeanne G'Fellers - Sister Lost, Sister Found (20 page)

“No, My.” Rankil pulled up her head until their eyes met. “The Mother says there’s no such thing besides the energy she has given all things, remember? This is something we don’t yet understand. It’s safe. I wouldn’t have brought you here otherwise.” She indicated the passageway before them. “Take a look, Archie. It seems bigger inside—a massive wagon, a transport of some kind?”

“Wagon?” Archell thumped the mound and stuck his head into the opening. The short corridor beyond burst into light and he jerked back, reluctant to go further. “Are you sure?”

“Positive!” With Myrla by the hand, Rankil pushed passed him and into the mound. “Don’t be a child.”

“Come on, Archie,” said Myrla. “I trust her.”

Archell raised his brows but followed Rankil’s lead, at times very close to his companions. “Kaelan should be told,” he mumbled more than once. “She should be told.”

“Dammit, Archie.” Rankil swore at him over her shoulder. “If I think she needs to know, I’ll tell her. It’s my call.” She led them around a sharp corner to another portal, which opened in the same manner as the first. They stepped through, the lights cut on, and the hatch shut with a frightening screech which startled Hestra awake. Comforted by Rankil’s familiar face and voice she soon quieted and gazed at her new surroundings, as did her caregivers. The room was dank with old decay.

Rankil led them to the center of the room and paused, hands resting on a high chair back. “This is what I wanted to show you.” She turned the chair then stepped back, waiting for their reactions.

Before them sat the skeleton of a woman, long and lean, blond hair tumbling across the epaulets gracing her shoulders. She sat dignified, in an obvious position of authority, fingers still poised on the armrests. A terrible hole ripped across the front of her uniform, revealing bone where gut had been.

“Who was she?” Myrla asked, drawing back when the woman’s hair broke at her touch. “How did she get here?”

Rankil depressed a key and pointed to the dust-covered screen before them. “I found this by accident, but this explains a little of it. It takes a few . . . all right, there it is.” A pain-riddled face appeared before them, an ancient projection of their discovery speaking of long-ago events in a foreign but strangely familiar tongue.

“Captain Tara Conway reporting. This will be my final log.” The woman held up her blood-saturated flight glove. “For obvious reasons, I’ll not be making the rendezvous point. I’m sorry, Dr. Reccason. I’ve left you with a full plate. Take care of the others for me. See they adapt to the new environment. This species, the Autlach as they call themselves, seem a hearty breed, very like us humans in their appearance. Keep detailed notes on your interactions with them.” Her brown eyes brimmed with pain she would not allow in her voice.

“I launched the rescue buoys just before I abandoned the control station.” She chuckled then shook her head. “Damn fools we were, tunneling into that sorry excuse for solid ground.”

She sighed and a certain peace began to warm her expression. “Tell my children I love them. Joanna, too. We should have been married, Jo. I know you asked me a thousand times and I refused them all. Guess it was a game to me. You’d pursue. I’d evade. I never tired of it. Thought it’d last forever. Ah, but it’s a little too late for that now, isn’t it? Just don’t let yourself get lonely. Find a pretty Autlach to snuggle up with. Rescue is at least six years away. That’s a long time to sleep alone, and God knows no one else who knows you will want the job. And, Jo, one more thing.” The woman collapsed back into her seat. “I think I would have said yes had you asked again.” She drifted in and out of consciousness for several seconds, mumbled something unintelligible, then reached up and undid the loose plait running down her back.

“There, Joanna. Remember me like you met me—hair flying in my face as I barked orders.” She closed her eyes. “And, yes, I have a final order. You didn’t think I’d go quietly, did you? Don’t worry, my friends, it’s a simple one.” Her voice sounded strange even to those who understood little of her command. “Don’t count on what hasn’t happened. Life is too brief. Conway out.” The screen went dark.

“There was Taelach in her words.” Archell looked respectfully at the seated form. “But some of them I’ve never heard.”

“She must have been a great leader.” Myrla settled into an empty chair. Their lifeless companion looked similar to the Taelach with her slim build and fair skin, but her eyes were almost as dark as Archell’s. “I heard her speak of children and the Autlach, but she wasn’t Taelach, was she?”

“I don’t think so.” Rankil reached again to the controls. “She’s just the beginning. I’ve found much more. Watch.” She brushed her fingertips across the controls, rotating a wall panel near Archell, causing him to startle.

“Rankil?”

“Sorry, Archie. Should have warned you.” Rankil reached into the opening. “Take a look at this.” She pulled out a weapon for them to see, a loaded handgun.

“What does it do?” inquired Myrla.

“Take Hestra and follow me.” They made their way back to the main hatch. “The first time I handled it I accidentally set it off,” explained Rankil as they stepped outside. “Was that ever a mistake.”

“Why?” asked Archell.

“This is why.” She aimed then squeezed the trigger, blasting into the snow fifty yards away. The others jumped at the bang, Hestra screaming her fear of the sound. “When it went off inside, it bounced around, almost hitting me before it stuck in the empty chair.”

“But it was just a noise.” Myrla placed Hestra in Archell’s arms and took the weapon into her hands, observing the metal casing, the curve of the trigger guard.

“Don’t point the hollow end toward anyone!” Rankil snatched the gun from her hands. “It’s more than noise. Look at where the snow was disturbed.”

Myrla dug into the snow around the impact site. “Is this what flew from it?” She held up the warm slug. “This little thing doesn’t seem like much.”

“But it moved so fast we couldn’t see,” Archell was beginning to understand Rankil’s respect for the weapon. “Dug a hole where the hard ground should be.”

“Point taken.” Myrla extended her hand. “I’ll be careful. Promise. I just want to hold it.” She turned away and held the gun’s butt end to her cheek, eyes focusing down the barrel. “Seems easy enough. Does it have an endless supply of those things it spits out?”

“No.” Rankil eased the barrel down and slid open the firing chamber. “It holds six. There are more inside. More of these weapons, too, in various sizes. They discharge different types of metal, but the effect is similar.” She tossed a shell to Archell. “The metal is pressed inside these cases until it’s used. I disassembled one of the whole ones. There’s black powder inside. I think it’s what pushed the pieces apart, but I don’t know how.”

“Now we know why she’s been spending so much time hunting, don’t we Archell?” Myrla relinquished her hold on the firearm. “What other discoveries did you make?”

“Let’s go back inside, and I’ll show you.” Rankil held back the vines and motioned Archell through. With Hestra in the crook of his arm, he pushed back into the corridor. When Myrla followed, Rankil stopped her in the hatchway, drawing her in for a kiss. “Got to steal one when I can, pretty,” she whispered into Myrla’s ear. “Not much gets by Archell.”

“Kaelan’s faith in me is strong,” he called from within. “Come along.”

“Ah, Archie.” Myrla grinned at her frustration.

“She’s behaving horribly, Archell.” Myrla stretched up to give Rankil a light peck on the cheek. “Simply awful.” She darted into the corridor. “Come on.”

“On my way.” Rankil paused to touch her damp cheek, relishing the warmth rising from deep within her body. It was pure heat, an excitement difficult to ignore. She desired to touch Myrla again, to share her thoughts in the deepest way possible. When the emotions became overwhelming, threatening to spill from her mind, she shuddered and rushed to where the others waited.

“Rankil dankle?” Archell sat in the empty pilot’s chair, Hestra perched on his knee, her blue eyes wide to the stimulus of his gentle bounce. As Rankil watched, she found herself longing to be Hestra’s raiser, she and Myrla responsible for the little girl’s upbringing. They could be a family to themselves, no one to say they were too young, no one to—

“Rankil?”

“Huh?”

Archell nodded toward the console.

“Um, yeah.” She sat at the control panel. “Most of these things don’t work. But the ones that do—” The view screen burst back to life, concluding her sentence.

“Why, it’s the area outside the mound!” declared Myrla, staring at the screen. “How did you do that?”

Rankil guided her hand to the panel. “Like this.”

“Good Mother!” The screen blurred then came back into focus when Myrla ceased moving her hand. “It’s this side of the mountains we crossed coming into the bowl. Remember them, Archell?”

“I carried our Rankil across them. She looked much younger then, sleeping in my arms.”

“I’ve grown.” Rankil squared her shoulders. “Besides, you’re not much older or any bigger than I am, Archie.”

“Not anymore.” His bounce reduced to a lazy rock and Hestra gurgled her approval. “Can that, that, picture guide show us more?”

“Like what?” Myrla sat ready at the controls.

“Our cavern?”

“I’ll give it a try.” The screen blurred again, the snowscape whirling by until familiar landmarks came into view. Then Myrla slowed, settling the screen onto the entrance of their underground home. “Everyone must be inside.” She began to move the image back.

“Hold a minute, My. Turn back slow.” Rankil squinted at the screen. “I thought I saw—Wait! Stop! There it is! Great Mother! Don’t you see it? Look!” Rankil pointed to faint indentations in the snow. “Look! Nassie tracks! And they’re wearing Aut booties! Kaelan and Jewel! We’ve got to get home!”

Rankil tucked two firearms and a box of shells into her tunic then led the way across the snowfield.

“Hurry!” cried Myrla as they began to slow their pace. “We’ve got to stop them!”

Rankil caught her hard by the arm, pulling her down on the drift they climbed. “They’re already here.”

“But, Jewel and Kaelan,” Myrla said in a lower voice. “The little ones. We have to—”

“We can’t rush in.” Rankil reloaded the gun’s empty chamber. “You and Archell stay out of sight while I see what we’re up against.” She dropped to her knees beside Myrla. “Do as I ask, My. Stay low.”

“I will,” whispered Myrla. “But if you don’t return soon, I’m leaving Hestra with Archell and coming looking for you.” She brushed the hair from Rankil’s eyes.

Rankil looked toward the cavern then back to Myrla. There was so much she wanted to say, to express at that moment. A sense of desperation similar to the one she had felt in Tisph’s grasp filled her heart, enveloping her until she had only one course of action.
You won’t lose me that easily. I love you.

Myrla shivered at the mental touch. Love—
me
? Only Jewel and Kaelan had ever linked to her and then it had been in a raiser’s fashion, soothing panic, taking away physical hurt. This was different, almost threatening in its lack of control. Rankil, I—I—

Shhh. It’s difficult for me, too. Kaelan swore she’d skin me if I tried this before we came of age.

Archell’s watching.

I don’t care. I had to let you know how I feel.

I need you, too, but this is hard. It makes me feel funny, almost sick.

Then we’ll stop.
Rankil pulled back. The entire exchange had taken no more than a second, but the effect lingered, leaving Myrla’s head swimming. “I’ll be back soon. Do you have your knife?”

“Always.” Myrla drew her blade from her waist pack. “Just come back with good news.”

“Knowing Kaelan’s swordsmanship and Jewel’s knife work, the battle will be over. And I bet Jewel is calming Olitti. You know how excitable she can be.” Rankil looked up to Archell, who nodded his readiness.

“Keep safe.” She stayed beside Myrla a second more, caressing her hair, then crept belly down toward the cavern, the winter white of her cloak fading her into the snowy backdrop.

The cavern was empty, pottery and foodstuffs scattered to ruin, the fire high with scrolls and linens. Kaelan’s bow lay in pieces. Rankil stamped out the least singed of the bedrolls and returned to the livestock chamber, her terror rising with every step. The milker was dead, finishing what Sharillia had started. How would they feed Hestra now?

As she slid out the entrance, she found herself repeating one of Archell’s tunes, his running song, the words choking her throat as she glanced toward where the others hid. Nassie snorts cut into the crisp air, rising against a pair of excited Autlach baritones.

“Look what I’ve found!” A bearded Autlach held Myrla’s knife-wielding hand. “You weren’t going to cut me, were you, girl?” She kicked his shins as Hestra bawled in the sling across her chest.

“Too nice a blade for that.” The Autlach squeezed her wrist until her grip loosened. He cut the sling free and held Hestra up by the strap. “Longpass was right. Sharillia was fat with another Taelach runt. This one looks just like his eldest.”

“Get rid of it before he gets here,” hissed the man binding Archell’s wrists. “I don’t like the way he fixes Sharillia’s mistakes.”