Shadow Hunters (25 page)

He was not alone; everyone had taken a step back. For a moment there was silence. Then Ladranix spoke, a trained warrior, no trace of fear or worry in his thoughts.

“I can reach the crystal, although it is more challenging with the open container below me. There is no margin for error. I must leap cleanly and not fall.”

“And hope you don’t wake up everything in the place,” Rosemary added. She, too, spoke calmly, though Jake knew she was as rattled as the rest of them. “Good luck.”

Ladranix nodded. With a final squeeze to Alzadar’s shoulder, he stepped forward and analyzed the task in front of him. He crouched for a moment, settling himself, and again Jake was reminded of the lethality of Ladranix’s ancestors as they ran through the jungles of ancient Aiur. Ladranix sprung higher than Jake anticipated, easily reaching the hovering crystal and clinging as expertly as Little Hands the primate might.

The surface of the tank did not move.

The moment Ladranix’s fingers touched the smooth surface, Jake felt his reaction. They all did. Ladranix’s joy poured over them like warm honey, filled with a sense of connection, of unity, and Jake gasped with it. A heartbeat later, Zamara had erected a barrier.

You are not protoss, although in spirit you are our kin, Jacob,
she said sadly.
This place—you cannot come here. Your mind cannot handle it. It would kill you.

Jake realized that he had been close—perilously, gloriously close—to entering the Khala. The crystal had facilitated the mental journey to a degree that even Ladranix had never experienced, and Jake was fiercely envious of the protoss. He would never know such union; the closest he would ever come was that moment, seemingly so long ago now, when he had brought the human minds together for that one brief moment.

“Looks like our luck is holding,” Rosemary said, providing a much-needed distraction. All she had seen, had felt, was Ladranix’s successful leap to the crystal. “I guess the xel’naga never expected anyone would get here who wasn’t supposed to be here. So there was no need to protect the crystal. And it looks like it has nothing to do with the creature. We caught a break.”

Jake got control of himself with an effort. “Yeah,” he said.

Ladranix had recovered from his surprise and now moved quickly down the length of the radiant stone toward the small cluster of smaller crystals at its base.

“This may be difficult,” he said. “Jacob—I can sever a small crystal easily enough, but I will need the usage of at least one hand to hold on to the main crystal. You will have to catch it and make sure it does not fall into the vat.”

Jake’s stomach clenched.
I will catch the crystal, Jacob. Do not fear.

“Okay,” Jake said. “I’ll try to be better at catching than I was as a kid.” He stepped closer to the vat,
although every instinct urged him to put as much distance between it and himself as possible.

“Careful,” Rosemary warned. “Don’t touch the sides at all.”

He froze and realized he was only a few centimeters away from the side of the container. The sickly mist floated upward. The surface of the liquid was flat now, and he tried not to think about the thing that lurked beneath it. He swallowed hard.

“Right,” he managed. He stepped back and let Zamara, with her millennia of knowledge on how to move with grace and assuredness, have control of his body.

“You may proceed, Ladranix,” Zamara said. “We are ready.”

Ladranix nodded, shifting his position for the best possible grip, taking his time. Jake felt him readying himself. The protoss held on with one hand and both legs, extended an arm, and closed his eyes. The golden armor around his wrist glowed softly, and suddenly the bright psi-blade flashed into existence. Ladranix bent and brought his arm down in a sure stroke. The glowing blade of focused mental energy sliced through a small shard at the base of the crystal like a knife through cheese. The severed crystal dropped, turning slowly end over end through the air, falling toward the vat.

Without his realizing it, Zamara extended Jake’s arm, moving as smoothly and as easily as the protoss had, and caught the crystal in his outstretched palm.

Most immediate was the sensation of the crystal in his hand. The feelings that washed through him were startling. Shivers chased each other down his spine. Warmth flowed over him, soft as water, strong as stone. At first it was pleasant, but then the sensation grew more and more intense and Jake pulled out his shirttail to hold the crystal. He glanced at Ladranix, who had dropped down in near-silence beside him.

This is … extremely powerful,
Zamara said, and Jake realized that she still had her shield up. The crystal had managed to penetrate it to a degree.
I hope it will be sufficient. Come, Jacob. Now we must retreat.

“Is that gonna work?” Rosemary asked.

“She hopes so,” Jake replied, tearing off a piece of his shirt and wrapping the crystal in it. He started to place the shard in one of the many pockets of his jacket, but something was already there. He took it out and stared at one of the fossilized shells from Nemaka. He’d put it in there that fateful night when he’d figured out the code, the universal ratio, that had led him to Zamara and this moment.

Jacob …

Jake shook his head and replaced the fossil. Hell, he might want it someday, if he made it through this alive. It would be a great souvenir. Sticking the shard in another pocket, he said, “Okay, time to get out of here.”

He almost couldn’t believe how lucky they had been. Those things in the vats—he shuddered, not wanting to think about them anymore. But he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t seen much, but even as it
horrified him he found he was curious. What were they? And were they, as he suspected, Ulrezaj’s doing?

He turned with the others and hurried back the way they had come. But as they passed through the first chamber they had entered, he slowed and stopped.

“Jake, what is it?” Rosemary asked, alert.

What was it indeed? There was something about this room … he looked around, comparing what he saw before him to what Temlaa had seen when he entered.

“There’s something wrong,” Jake said slowly. And then he knew. “The platforms. When Temlaa and Savassan were here, the platform was extended. It’s not now. Someone’s retracted it since then.”

Jake looked at Alzadar, who still looked very uncomfortable. “I know how to open the alcoves.”

Rosemary frowned slightly. “We just got very lucky back there, Jake. I don’t like the idea of wasting time and taking chances opening cupboards around here.”

Jake ignored her; ignored Zamara, who was echoing the human woman’s words. His thoughts were for Alzadar.

You know what Temlaa saw,
he said to Alzadar, his words for the templar alone.
Those ancient bodies could still be there. Or there could be nothing there.

Alzadar’s worry, fear, and guilt washed over Jake.
I know what you suspect … and I do as well. Do it. I must know. What was in the tanks could have a reasonable explanation, but …

I think—I know what we’re going to see there.

Gods help me, so do I.

“Jake? You listening? I said I don’t think opening those things is a good idea.”

“Me neither. But I think I have to.”

Jake moved to the console. He looked at the rectangle of small, glowing gems, and as Temlaa had done before him, tapped out the ara’dor. The soft, sweet humming issued forth, and the crystals pulsed as each was touched in turn. When he touched the last one in the pattern, the gems all lit up, then their radiance faded.

Jake turned to the wall. Everyone mimicked him, watching intently. A glowing line appeared on the wall and moved slowly to form a rectangle of the same perfect proportions as the giant one that hid the chambers from careless eyes. Jake’s heart was racing. The platform’s probably empty, he told himself.

It was not.

But what he saw, despite its gruesomeness, filled him with relief. Six ancient bodies lay there. They looked exactly like the ones Temlaa had found. Jake exhaled and opened his mouth to say something when Alzadar’s mental cry pierced him to the bone.”

“Rukashal! Tervoris … Azramith … !”

The bodies weren’t ancient after all. They were protoss that Alzadar and the others had known.

“The Xava’kai …” breathed Rosemary. “Guess this is what Ulrezaj was doing with his loyal followers when he took them away.”

Alzadar rushed forward to the desiccated corpse of what had once been a friend, as if it wasn’t already too late and somehow he could be rescued. Quick as a thought, Ladranix raced after him. He seized his fellow templar and shoved him away from the platform.

“Let me help him!” Alzadar cried. He struggled in Ladranix’s grasp and to Jake’s shock twisted free. Maddened with grief and outrage, his hand closed on one of the bodies.

An eerie, otherworldly wailing shattered Jake’s ears. Alzadar had rung the dinner bell.

“Damn it!” Rosemary yelped, shooting the protoss an angry glance. “Let’s get out of here!”

Ladranix bodily lifted Alzadar. Alzadar shook his head, recovering himself, and with one heartbroken glance back at the corpses of his murdered friends, rushed to flee with the others. As they raced toward safety, not too far now, Alzadar cried, “They are coming! The Xava’kai—they are coming. Do not shoot them, I beg you!”

No chance, then. Jake could hear them now, running swiftly and almost, but not quite, silently down the corridors. He expected Rosemary to ignore Alzadar’s plea. To his surprise, she scowled, and while she did not drop her weapon, neither did she fire. Ladranix and the other Shel’na Kryhas closed in around the two humans, forming a protective ring with their bodies.

The whispering sound of running protoss increased, and suddenly there they were, moving with shocking
speed, their lambent eyes fixed fiercely on Jake. Seconds later they were surrounded. There were many of them, true, but not nearly as many as Jake had expected. The thought chilled him as he realized that although the Forged had once had far greater numbers than Those Who Endure, the very being they called the Benefactor had been slowly, stealthily decreasing their numbers, faster even than the zerg would have.

Jake reached out to try to touch their minds, but they were shuttered to him. Through the circle of pro-toss that protected him, he stared at the others, their faces composed, their minds unavailable to him, and wondered if they would even give him a chance to explain things.

One of them stepped forward. “Alzadar, it is good to see you alive and well. And you have brought us the preserver. The Xava’tor will be pleased.”

Before Jake could even form a coherent thought, Alzadar had stepped away from the other protoss and stood before his leader. He was tall and straight, his head high, and Jake realized that even if he hadn’t known Alzadar had been a templar, he would have pegged him as one.

“I am alive, but not well, Felanis. For I have beheld the atrocities committed by the one we call a benefactor.”

Jake’s mind was suddenly filled with the images they had recently seen—the mysterious tanks in the crystal chamber, the desiccated corpses of former
Tal’darim. He realized what Alzadar had done—shared that image with the rest of the Forged. Some of them still guarded their reactions, foremost among them the seemingly implacable Felanis. Others seemed stunned, and he realized that even the Xava’kai hadn’t known the end results of their labor on the Xava’tor’s behalf.

Alzadar suddenly stumbled back, reeling as if from a physical blow. “You—knew,” he said. “Felanis—you knew all along what Ulrezaj was!”

Some of the Forged shifted uneasily, while others ducked back, literally recoiling in horror. So unsettled were they that they broadcast their thoughts rather than directing them privately.

“These images that Alzadar shows us … it is true then?” one of them cried.

“An archon comprised of the souls of dark templar? Those we shunned and cast out?”

Jake wondered if the betrayed Forged would turn on their leader. Felanis appeared completely unconcerned. He drew himself up to his full height. Jake felt dwarfed by him, and even the other protoss standing beside him, all except Alzadar, looked diminished. When he spoke, he addressed not those who had asked the questions, but Alzadar himself.

“Ulrezaj is not a monster, but a demigod. He offered me the power to save myself and those who followed me. Who followed him, who understood his vision and believed in it. Ulrezaj and the being he serves are stronger than you can possibly imagine.”

“Whoa, whoa—Ulrezaj has a boss?” exclaimed Rosemary, looking alarmed.

“The Sundrop has made us slaves to the very worst the dark templar represent!” Alzadar cried. “And I will not turn over a preserver to him—or to you!”

In his mind, Jake heard the silent command:
Go. Many of them are as stunned and sickened as I am. I will do all I can to convince them to turn on Felanis. I will hold them off—for as long as I may. Get Zamara to safety.

Jacob, there is another way out—let me lead! And to everyone else, she sent, Behind us—we will retreat. Half of you stay here and assist Alzadar. He has earned our aid.

Zamara surged into Jake’s mind. As if the movements were choreographed, half of the Shel’na Kryhas whirled around and, using only their powerful bodies, attacked the startled Forged, who initially seemed too stunned to block their passage. Jake and Rosemary followed as they fled back the way they had come, racing through rooms that no longer appeared enticingly mysterious or beautiful but now seemed like an elaborately laid trap. Explorer though he was, he’d seen enough of this place. He’d seen too much of it. All he wanted to do was jump into the small protoss ship, take off, land at the warp gate, and head to Shakuras. The horrible, otherworldly wailing sound continued, and Jake’s head throbbed to its beat. Oh, God, it hurt.

They were pursued. More protoss dropped back to fight the Forged, buying Jake and Rosemary precious time. Jake was in good shape, but the protoss were
faster, and it both moved and irritated him that they slowed their pace so some could bring up the rear. Rosemary was running flat out, her rifle clutched in her hands. He took the stairs two at a time, following Ladranix as they raced toward the surface, to the little ship that was—