Sac'a'rith (11 page)

“If I threw the table to the left as I remember, and there was no attacker, then it should’ve been on the left hand side of the room,” I said to myself. “So why was it on the right, unless there was an attacker who had to throw it off to get out from under it?”

I slowly stood and tried to walk a few steps. My legs were shaking under the stress, but I stubbornly wanted to stand for this. Turning around I looked at the wall on the far side of the room. It was completely unmarred. I had cast several mage bolts in that direction; they should have at the very least scorched the wall. Unless of course they hit something, or someone, before they could reach the wall.

As I looked around the room, everything matched what I’d expect to see if my memory was correct. I eased myself back into the chair and took a closer look at the table. It appeared undamaged from its ordeal. That was a shame; it was unrealistic, but I was almost hoping to have a face print on the table or something similar that I could point to as proof.

“Tricholophate,” I said to myself. “Clever, but not clever enough.”

I pulled out a datapad I had been using in the hospital. I was recording everything I could remember about the events. Every color, scent and sound. I spent the afternoon adding all the details about how my room was when I returned and correlating it with my memories. I knew as I got further from the incident the memories would fade, especially as my mind continued to heal from whatever drugs they’d used, and I couldn’t allow that to happen. Someone was after me again, and I wouldn’t be comfortable until at least I knew who and why.

That night I encrypted the datapad and hid it in my quarters. I knew it was best to go along with the doctor’s story and not let anyone know my suspicions. The last thing I needed was for them to think I’d lost my wits and needed mental care.

The next morning I decided to try to take a shower. It had been at least a week since I had been able to wash properly. I slipped off my clothes and used the handrails in the shower to pull myself up. As I tried to wash myself, I noticed my back was tender.

Turning to look in the mirror, I saw a large bruise covering most of my back, complete with a new pink scar.

“Tricholophate didn’t cause that,” I said to myself.

I sighed and finished up in the shower. After getting dressed I sat at my table to eat breakfast. I’d be late for rehab, but right then I didn’t care. I needed to figure out who captured me and why I was interrogated. They could come back at any time, and I wanted to be ready if they did.

After eating I slowly moved and sat in front of my terminal to do research. It was exhausting to move, but I was determined. I had barely gotten started with my plans when the doorbell chimed. I ignored it but then I heard, “Medical override,” and the door slid open.

“Purwryn, you okay?” came a voice.

“Yeah, over here,” I said.

One of the orderlies from ship’s medical came into the room and said, “You’re late for rehab.” He didn’t look happy with me. Not one bit.

“Sorry, showering and eating took longer than I’m used to,” I said. I guessed there was no way out of rehab. I locked the terminal so he couldn’t see what I was up to. I decided to make a play for pity to dodge his anger. “I was just resting my legs a bit after that effort before trying to get back into the hoverchair.”

“Well, let’s get you in your chair and take you down,” he said. He seemed to soften at the idea that I wasn’t being stubborn but had been unable to comply.

I slowly stood and uneasily walked to the chair. The orderly stood next to me the whole time with his arms out ready to catch me, but I refused any help. It hurt, made me lightheaded, and I had to go far too slow for my tastes but, by the Emperor, I did it myself. I wouldn’t be an invalid; not now, not ever.

Once in the chair, he took over and brought me down to medical where the nurse made sure that I understood the importance of being on time in the future. She didn’t seem anywhere near as understanding as the orderly, but I guess that wasn’t her job.

After rehab, Marcus came by to escort me back to my quarters. “Hey, how about after my shift I drop by for a game of Pineman’s Bluff?”

Pineman’s Bluff was some card game that he had been trying to get me to play since the day I came on board, but I’d always had the excuse of being too busy with work. Unfortunately, I couldn’t use that excuse now. Besides, I felt I owed it to him to try his game after all he had done for me. “Sure, but please bring dinner. Rations in my quarters are not very exciting.”

Marcus left me alone in the room again. He really was turning out to be a great support through all of this. I wondered what his angle was. Did he think that someday I would be in a position to repay him for this kindness, or was he more like Crivreen, just an all-round nice guy? I hoped it was the latter. I hadn’t met many like Crivreen, and it would be nice to know there were more good men out there.

I slowly made my way back to my terminal. It was time to get back to work on my case. The old man had wanted information about Zah’rak and his team. I had instinctively resisted telling him anything because I was trying to ditch that fake ID, but he kept pressing me. There must have been a reason.

“I have what I need,” the old man had said, but I had never revealed anything, at least not that I could remember. I wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed between the attack and waking up in the hospital, but surely long enough for them to do more than one interrogation.

It wouldn’t be uncommon for interrogators to use drugs which cause amnesia. It would allow them to repeat the same line of questions many times, using information they’d learned that the subject didn’t remember telling them.

I used the terminal to search for any information about other attacks or tricholophate accidents in the past year, but my search turned up nothing. I tried to find a way to pull up the medical reports from the others in this accident, or any news reporting on it, but failed. It was all locked down too tightly. I could really use Crivreen’s skills now.

Late that evening Marcus came by as promised, with two big packages. “When I told the kitchen staff what happened and how you had no real food, they insisted I bring you all this.” The packages contained enough dinner for several nights and various drinks and snacks. “And of course I got you some chocolate cake.”

I had to smile at that. “You know me too well, I think.”

He stowed the extra food and set up dinner. While we ate, he filled me in on the comings and goings of people we knew. Eventually he put down his cutlery and asked, “What really happened?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He pulled out a datapad and placed it on the table. “These three who were in the hall when you came out - they’re dead.”

“What?” I exclaimed. I picked up the datapad and looked at the pictures. “Those are blaster wounds.” Actually they looked more like mage bolts, but I needed to be careful. I was pretty sure it hadn’t leaked out that I was a magus, and I needed to keep it that way for now.

“Yes. The official story is that they shot each other under the influence of tricholophate,” he said.

“They were in the hospital when I woke up,” I told him.

“They died shortly after that from their wounds and tricholophate poisoning,” he said.

“What are you getting at?” I asked.

“Tricholophate is a liquid at room temperature. You tell me: what happens when you overheat it like they said it happened?”

“It turns into a gas and – ” I paused as I suddenly realized what he was getting at. “ - becomes dangerously explosive,” I said.

“Exactly. At least three blasters were discharged in the corridor, plus whatever hit you. There should be a gaping hole in the ship – yet there aren’t even any scorch marks,” he said.

“Look, I appreciate you looking out for me, but we both know that if I don’t show that I’m well-adjusted and accept the official story I’ll be thrown into a mental care facility,” I said.

“Purwryn - ” He took a deep breath and then continued. “Look, I know the risk, but I also know that you remember being attacked and the official story is obviously bogus. You might be on that mental watchlist right now, but I’m not. Tell me what you actually remember and let me dig.”

I tried to size up his intentions. Was he working for some official group, trying to determine if I was really well-adjusted? Could he be working for whoever had attacked me, to determine whether I remembered anything that would cause a problem? Or was he truly concerned for my wellbeing?

“Very well,” I said. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you what I hallucinated while under the influence of the gas.” I told him the story up to the time I’d collapsed in the hall, but modified it slightly to prevent discovery that I was a magus.

“Why can’t you walk?” he asked.

“They had to grow a new spine for me. The bottom third of mine was extensively damaged.”

“By what?” he asked.

“They don’t know. They simply said I got hurt while under the influence of the tricholophate.”

He cleaned up our dishes and served the chocolate cake. “Several hours are missing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I took a bite of the cake; it was fresh, moist and wonderful. I hadn’t had any since before the incident and it felt good to eat it, like a little bit of normality had returned.

“The timeline you just gave me indicates that you collapsed in the hallway several hours before anyone found you,” said Marcus, drawing me out of my cake-inspired reverie.

“Careful,” I said. “That way lie dragons.”

“Look, I know the risks,” he said. “If it’s reported that I’m snooping around this obvious cover-up I could disappear, but someone attacked you and almost killed you. Let me help.”

Marcus seemed like a nice guy and I didn’t want to see him hurt, but it was obvious he wouldn’t give up till he had something. “Yeah, there is time missing but my memory of those hours is sketchy at best. Even if there were no tricholophate in my system, something affected me, because my memory is disjointed and makes no sense. It’s just a series of unconnected images and sounds; nothing that helps.”

“What kind of images?” he asked.

“An office, a couch, a door and an old man: that’s about it,” I said.

“This man, have you seen him before?” he asked.

“No. Say, didn’t you come over to teach me that card game?” I responded.

“Yes, in fact I did.”

This time he seemed to take the hint and we began the game he so wanted to teach me.

The nightwalkers ran through the embers, not seeming to care when they caught fire. The stench of rotting flesh mixed with burning flesh was a combination I hoped never to smell again. For a moment I envied Raquel’s unconscious state, as she would have no memory of the stench. They charged up the stairs towards us, but before they could reach me a thin blue oval appeared between us. The nightwalkers rushed right into it and disappeared.

“A gate! Smart thinking, Shira, but how long can you keep it open?” I asked.

“I’m not sure; I’ve never needed to know,” she said.

The nightwalkers continued to rush the gate, apparently without realizing what it was. “Where are they coming out?”

Shira pointed up into the sky, where a steady stream of nightwalkers were falling from a great height. “I didn’t expect them to keep coming like this.”

“Keep the gate open as long as you can, but don’t overstress yourself. We may need your spells to escape if things go poorly.”

“I may have to close it soon,” she said “Each one that goes through takes energy from me. It would be no effort to keep open if they weren’t using it.”

“Apparently they’re not going to stop their charge. Close the gate and save your power,” I said as I resumed my defensive stance.

The moment the gate vanished they were on me. I swung fast and hard to beat them back, but the push of their vast numbers was too much. I knew they’d overwhelm me soon. The battle was as good as lost already. “Look around, Shira, for another wall segment, one with no stairs, and gate us to it!”

“There!” she called out and opened a gate. “But Raquel is too heavy for me, unless I drag her.”

I spun, swinging my tail hard across the front line of nightwalkers, sending several of them flying and creating a break in their attack. “Go!” I yelled as I sprinted up the remaining steps, scooped up Raquel and charged through the gate.

Shira, being closer, went through first and as soon as I was clear through the gate she closed it. “Okay, we should be safe for now.”

After setting Raquel down I examined our new position. We were about ten meters off the ground on what may have been a support pillar for some gigantic building or perhaps a decorative column. It was hard to tell what it might have been, since all that was left was this single tall and wide column. The pillar was perhaps five or six meters in diameter, allowing us room to walk around. There didn’t appear to be any way up or down from where we were, making it a secure retreat from our land-bound attackers. “Great choice. Now, eat and get some rest. Who knows what else this night will bring?”

“How’s Raquel doing?” she asked.

Raquel lay where I had placed her, looking very dead. As far as I could tell she wasn’t breathing at all. “No change. I think at this point it’s safe to assume that we need to plan how to survive until daybreak.”

Another hour passed with no change in Raquel’s condition. The nightwalkers encircled our position, but there was no way for them to reach us. It was foolish of me not to have thought of a position like this sooner. I had been working under the impression that we only needed an hour, but this would have been a far superior position from the outset.

Shira sat with her legs dangling over the edge, chewing on some jerky from her pack. “Probably two more hours till dawn?”

“Yeah, that seems right,” I said. “I assume they’ll start leaving before then.”

I closed my eyes and leaned back. Stretching out with my mind, I used my power of Sight to look around at the sky. It seemed unlikely that Nightwalkers were the only thing out here, but I couldn’t see anything else.