Shadow Over Avalon (11 page)

The copper horse squealed in terror, throwing the traveler, reins catching on a branch. The traveler rolled in falling, standing up bruised but intact, several paces from the frantic animal. No sense in releasing it, since both of them faced death.

One pace at a time, slowly, so as not to spook the monster into a charge, she distanced two potential victims, sword drawn. The saurian hadn’t stopped eating its last meal, a stag. It stood on its two back legs, showing its much smaller, grasping forelimbs; its heavy hind muscles indicated speed and jumping ability. The head was too well encased by bone for a target, and the neck had spiny ridges extending along the length of the spine. Frontal attack would be death, because the creature would spit venom for preference. Only one area gave an opening, just where its spine met the pelvic girdle and the horny outgrowths stopped. Still feeding, the saurian eyed the copper horse. It dropped a chunk of carcass and began to stalk, breaking into a charge. The horse reared. The traveler aimed, striking a mighty blow as the saurian sped past. A lucky hit, her sword bit deep between the creature’s backbones. The beast crashed, half paralyzed. Thrashing, it swiveled its head enough for a counter strike too swift to dodge. The spittle slapped against her right forearm and hand, catching the ugly black circle. Leather melted, flesh smoked. The band sent out little lights, like fireflies on a summer’s eve. With that last spurt of spite, the predator went into death throes.

Groaning, hissing with pain, the traveler crawled forward to thrust the mess of a limb into an icy torrent. Pain eased with rushing water pounding against the burn, reducing it to an angry throb. This injury wasn’t going to heal, and the limb must come off – impossible without help.

First lose hunters and then head north to safety.

The copper horse took a while to calm, and mounting was difficult, one-handed. The traveler turned east to begin a wide circle.

Each passing hour marked increased weakness. A pale moon inched across starry heavens as the solitary pair walked darkened earth. The night breeze sighed, moaning over empty lands . . . a familiar echo. The sad one with copper hair who called her ‘Sister’ . . . must be close, maybe close enough to hack off this ruined limb. She sensed a draw to the east, a feeling of rightness.

Strength seeped away with the target so close. Moonlight glinted off the surface of a large lake ahead. A sense of familiar presence radiated from bushes near the shore. The copper horse headed to water without direction, not shying when a dark-cloaked figure stepped forward to grasp the reins. Another eased the traveler down to earth.

As the useless limb flopped to the damp grass, the black band sparked once more, giving off a single whine and a curl of smoke. She looked up for the one needed, but when its hands pushed back those concealing cowls all hope faded. Pale moonlight reflected off fine silver scales; the one who knelt over had short, curling hair of a light color that ruffled in the breeze. Large, pale eyes over a straight nose and firm lips made an intelligent face, but not a human one. This creature looked concerned.

“Made straight for us. Knew where we based.” Another of the group looked at the traveler and aimed a box at the black band. “We’re in luck. By the deeps, it’s deactivated. We have a trophy.”

“Our young warrior ran up against a saurian by the appearance of these wounds. Look, Tarvi, still conscious and unafraid. What do you make of that?” the fair one said.

“They usually panic when they know they’re dying. This is more like a beast, lying down to accept the inevitable.”

Another of the group came over to look. This one had long, light hair and a softer face. There was a faint pressure inside the traveler’s head, and then the creature backed off in disgust. “It’s a moron. Finish it off, Ector. Our trophy must be taken home at once.”

“Sanctuary claims to have bred out impatience, but I see one seer with full measure.” Ector took a narrow container from a pocket. He removed the stopper, letting a smooth liquid drip on the traveler’s parched lips.

“Well, youngling, seems you had wit enough to find us. How did you know where to look?” Ector asked.

The traveler tried to find the sounds she understood, but could not repeat. One sound came to mind, which wouldn’t serve alone.

“I promise none will speed an ending unless you wish it, youngling. Answer and I’ll give you something for the pain,” Ector urged, just as the traveler dug out another sound.

“Look . . . Cop–per,”

“Ector, this is an exercise in futility. The moron can’t even talk.”

“Be still, Suki. This Terran understands well enough to give answers. Just because we don’t grasp the meaning doesn’t mean one isn’t valid.” Ector tilted the bottle for the traveler to drink again. “Let’s prove her wrong. You do understand, so we’ll try something more basic. Tell me your name,” he said.

The traveler looked straight into those pale eyes and smiled a sad smile, not having an answer to give. The sky went dark as a cloud passed over the moon, and she remembered the other sad one’s warning. Destined fate approached.

The dream-watcher flickered into focus, waiting in the phantom depths of night, his matte-black eyes now shining gold in the moonlight. He began to move closer.

“Shad . . . ow,” she whispered, trying to explain it was time to go, wanting a last sleep, but needing to warn these kind creatures of the one who stalked souls.

“Ector, let it alone. It’s near the threshold.” Tarvi pulled at Ector’s arm.

“In a moment. The answers are trapped inside, I think.”

The traveler felt a firm push against her thoughts, and somehow there appeared more order as the stranger’s will delved deep. She considered fighting, but she was so very tired, and this intrusion didn’t taste bad. Vision blurred, fading down into blackness. Sound became a dull drone, soon gone. Lungs sucked in one final breath.

*

Ector swore as he disengaged, frantically digging into the contents of his belt pouch for a disc. He placed it on the Terran’s head, activating it. That last lungful of air sighed out; heartbeat ceased; eyes glazed. He closed them.

“What? Found something?” Tarvi asked, coming close to check that the stasis device functioned.

“Our Terran ran afoul of a Nestine before she battled with a saurian. Long-term memory is mostly gone, and her speech center has extensive damage. Maybe that dead sonic device enabled communication.” Ector shrugged looking up at Tarvi. “If there’s the slightest chance of retrieving more, I’d say she is as valuable a find as our trophy.”

“Ector, I’ve never seen a Terran amputee. You’re not doing any favors.” Tarvi shone a flashlight on the wound. Bones glistened, part exposed. A gobbet of melting flesh sloughed away.

Ector flinched. “Why is this girl the only one we found with any idea of Nestines? Why didn’t she react to us with the usual Terran panic? We may have picked up an unexpected advantage, Tarvi. One I’d be a fool to overlook.”

“Nestine ship to the West,” Suki called, from the edge of the lake.

“They seem to think there’s something out there worth landing for,” Ector said, watching the bright disc descending. “Cut that animal free from reins, and then it’s time to leave.”

Ector scooped up the Terran, throwing her over his shoulder. With his unit behind, he headed out into the lake depths.

*

The copper horse whuffled night air, puzzled at the sudden quiet. It pricked up its ears, heading home when pink glints of dawn light rose over the horizon. Midnight-colored eyes faded back into rock, as the lonely bark of a dog-fox cut through sleepy silence while ripples calmed on dark water.

“When a limited intelligence is faced with confusing and contradictory data, sensory overload is inevitable.” The Archive’s mechanical voice echoed around the small room.

Standing by the door, Arthur wiped sweaty palms on the front of his black robe. His stomach churned and his heart raced. Now he knew how the subject, Shadow, had acquired such an odd name: a handle applied by default. That terrible void, where the essence of personae should reside, rattled with little data left in a space designed to hold a quantity. Amazing the survival instinct still functioned – that she would want to live. No, his perception was at fault. He knew what she’d lost, if Shadow did not. Her life had vanished, and having little memory meant no comparisons. Arthur reassessed; something had been remembered, or her history could not have included Terran interludes of such detailed recollection.

“Intelligent beings can assimilate fresh data.”

How far would the Archive enable him to probe? He didn’t want to let go of how this woman had been, a lively and vibrant soul, full of life and courage. In her, he could forget his own organized existence.

“Wild variables in thinking, consistent with thought patterns influenced by enzyme secretion, inhibit pure logic.” A second row of lights winked into brilliance on the console. “Assimilation success rate is calculated at 3.15 percent.”

Not good odds. He’d hoped some trace of humanity remained in Shadow, but the Archive computed otherwise, not the answer he wanted. Perhaps, with another perspective, that fragment could be found. Arthur checked his digital chronometer. Three hours before official acolyte wake time, so there would be none about to catch him if he continued, but just because he could do something, didn’t mean he should – there lay the path to addiction. Either this course charted for his life would prevail, or he’d find another way, perhaps fighting alongside Shadow. Taking the few steps to the solitary seat, he connected his interface with the Archive again, a defiant gesture, to request a review of Ector in the relevant time frame.

*

Earth Date 3874

The soft thump of turbines and a whine from a railpod in transit cut through Ector’s thoughts as he gazed out from the flat rooftop of the barracks. He’d come up here for peace of mind, yet it eluded him with spiteful disregard.

The city of Avalon lay below, smooth-sided gray buildings of two stories for the most part, rising in height at the core, where the pyramid of central command stood resplendent. In a side street he spotted an open door, a cat slinking out past frantic hands. Somebody’s beloved pet trod a dangerous passage now. A huge plate of food was offered. The cat permitted capture. Not a moment too soon, as a ground runner sped down that street; the pilot sailed past, unaware of the near miss.

He settled down on a low conduit casing, easing back to gaze at the blue glow of ocean through the plasglass dome of Avalon as he went through his thoughts. The Terran recovered three floors below, still unconscious from the medication needed to remove her arm. Strange how Ambrose kept sneaking looks at the girl, although in his capacity as Elite Supreme Commander, he pulled rank to order the rest of them away. Having a freed Terran at close quarters was a huge temptation. All wanted to see how their ancestors looked, the girl being the closest living example.

Tarvi reported the suspected damage to her brain wasn’t laser burn, nor was there any chemical residue. The problem resulted from gross sensory overload induced under torture. Bad enough, yet Ector hoped he could bypass a neural block if he ever got the chance. He was sure the Terran understood speech, so repairing her language center must be his first priority.

Ambrose wanted a first-hand detailed description of a Terran fort. His cherished dream was to launch an attack at a Nestine egress while they launched a skyship. All existing information indicated the slave race knew nothing about the Nestines. The debris, the resulting chaos, might be enough to free some Terrans to fight their no-longer concealed overlords.

But had his own motives for saving the Terran sprung from the image of enemies in her mind? She accepted death as a natural part of life and had been ready to go. How was she going to react to a second chance in an alien culture? His mind thrummed to another’s call, disturbing, demanding attention. He lowered his privacy barriers. Ambrose projected, requesting a meeting in the Terran’s room at once.

*

Ambrose sat on a comfortable chair with his feet propped up on a low table by the sleeping captive’s bed. His light-red hair looked ruffled, as if he’d run his hands through it. The girl now wore a loose, white sleeping robe, resembling one of the people in this half-light. Her short, ragged hair gave her a vulnerability Ector found difficult to bear.

“I thought you should be present as a sympathetic figure when she wakes. There will be enough to frighten her without strange faces around,” Ambrose said. He got up, stretched and smoothed out the crinkles of his gray uniform bodysuit.

“Aren’t you staying, sir?” Ector asked, rather surprised to find Ambrose leaving now after displaying such intense interest.

“I’ll await the outcome elsewhere. Either we’ll get something to work with, or you can leave a sharp knife lying around. If she can’t adapt, it would be cruel to keep her. Terrans don’t bear weapons unless they can use them. This girl’s calloused hand marked her as a fighter. She’ll know how to make a clean end.” Ambrose walked over to the bed, staring at the sleeper. “Odd, she reminds me of someone.” He sighed.

Ector took Ambrose’s place to wait. He considered scanning her mind while she still slept but dismissed the notion as impractical. He needed active cooperation from the girl for any significant improvement. She stirred, fitful for a moment while sleep receded. Her eyes snapped open when the end of her stump touched the mattress.