The 6th of Six (The Legend of Kimraig Llu) (37 page)

“First movement,” the warning came from Smith and Davis, the last two female Crossers who guarded their front. Shields up, the SHORT’s steel pry bars brought to ready—good as it was going to get. Curtis and Cullen with the ancient hunting launchers would each get off three darts at most before the horde was on them. The last two darts would stay with Curtis at the door.

There were extra, well-used pry bars to blunt any charge.

These new Ergots started their attack the same way each time: a flood of almost unstoppable bubbles smothering the air from space as they poured down the hall. They acted as a shield until the big ones were close.

The hissing sound from the elevator shafts was unmistakable. They were coming.

“Remember, stay alive. Alive they do not eat you.” Kimraig braced himself for the onslaught.

First, the outer hall was empty, then filled with bubbles flooding floor to ceiling, pouring toward them—then stopping. The translucent nodules blocked sight of the double doors and piled up into a solid wall, trapped by glass. Not glass he realized, but a cage. Whatever held them pulled them to the side, like a curtain, packing their mass out and up against each wall. Two, floor to ceiling, glass cages. Inside each mass, one or two of the large bulges appeared.

No, not a cage, this was a jail. The trapped Ergots looked no different from those moving toward them. Maybe those in the cages were outlaws following their own agenda.

“Hold,” Kimraig ordered.

The remaining Ergots, looking not different than those in the cage, had stopped behind the barricade. A space was clearing for two larger blobs carrying captured clear plastic shields. They were escort for a pair of small figures moving through the hordes. Two, very small, almost perfect, humans stopped just past the barricade. Only their size and a slight jerky walking stride made them different from Kimraig’s group—Little People.

Parley, trap, demand for surrender? Really, did it matter?

“Cullen. Withdraw to the doors. Give your launcher to Brody, and tell her it brakes.” A light moment to break the tension, “Not So Little” Brody did tend to squander her strength.

“Make sure you close the doors and protect Breen.”

“Curtis. Set up half way back to the doors and prepare to cover our retreat,” Kimraig said as he glanced to the two Crosser Troopers forming a small barricade of their own just in front of him. He nudged Smith, the one closest to him and continued.

“Join Curtis, he will need your shield.”

“Not liking this Kimraig, back of my neck is itching. Not feeling support from behind us.” LaJay was nervous, though no more than he was.

“Breen just opened the doors. She is standing there without anyone supporting...hummf.”

LaJay’s voice cut off to a strangled gargle.

Kimraig turned just as she collapsed behind him; a dart had torn her neck away. Her fiber shield teetered up, protecting them both. Another dart partially penetrated the woven layers...the shield fell. He counted each hit, three. Another moan from in front as the Crosser, Davis, went down with a dart in the back of her skull: four. Smith, her companion, followed as number five.

He saw the two largest Ergots stagger as two more missiles found their shields. They did not go down. The entire horde, large and small seething shapes surround the two Little People.

Six darts thrown, two remained.

“You are hitting us,” Kimraig shouted back to the double doors. “They are here to parley. They want to talk.”

Kimraig looked toward the Little People and understood. Breen did not want to talk. “Down,” he yelled towards the blobs moving toward him. “Down!”

He hunched behind LaJay’s crumpled form and risked a glance at the double doors. Marta down on the floor, head severed from her body, blood everywhere. One spear thrower on the ground as Cullen was first through the double doors into the safe room.

He saw Sala pushed through the doors, a trooper on each arm. A look of startled horror blotted her face. Was she an unwilling pawn? Or an excellent actor?

Breen standing in Battle Armor, a hunter’s bow, about to draw back maximum distance, aiming. Ah, she had known something he had not because she had one hidden. She did not have enough strength to bend the bow—a familiar form behind her, helping.

Turning saved him for the moment. Breen’s first arrow caught him high in his left shoulder, just missing the lung. The force spun him backwards dropping him flat. He struggled to sit up. LaJay’s shield was there...not going to happen, too heavy.

Breen actually gave him a mock salute as she notched a second arrow, let fly just as he rose on his elbow. She turned to disappear behind the double doors.

The second arrow shattered his sword-arm shoulder.

Did not see this coming, she finished me off so the Ergots could clean up the mess. Well that explains her distance from me the last few days.
He chuckled against the pain.

I bet she will be sorry I forgot to tell her about those big heavy doors we had to open—leading to the “sweet spot.”

Blood stained the floor.
She thought that little room was the spot.

The rank little beasts were on him. There were harsh whistles and grunts, gaping maws and spittle and sucking. He lay there where the second arrow had sent him. He was numb, unable to fight as the two little people reached him. He found an iron pry bar near his hand but no strength to lift the weight.

He could not see. There seemed to be hundreds of the small beings around him and flooding toward the double doors. They started to drag him back to the barricade. More and more of his conscious mind slipped away. Two little children swimming in and out of his vision, or dreams, their mouths not moving yet partial, soft, reassuring words forcing into him at a higher level than any telepathy Kimraig had endured. It was as if he was speaking to himself.

“We had nothin...to do with this. Help...only.” Finally, these little voices spoke in unison. “Relax with Our Friends...here to help you...not...”

You are not blocking me now, are you Hunter?
Breen taunted him with her telepathy.
Only a fool lets a lover take him down like this.

* * *

“Nothing, there is no water or supplies anywhere on this floor?”

“We found nothing, Mistress Breen.” They had all voted to be equal, but Brody-1 would call Breen, Mistress, and the members of her battle group by their correct titles—until her Mistress corrected her.

“Kimraig assured me there were supplies for all of us in this room. He was adamant.”

“We are still checking the floors below but everything was stripped long before we arrived.”

Brody-1 glanced around the room that Kimraig had promised would hold the key to their salvation...as good a trap as there ever was.

“Any sign of Yates?”

“The one positive thing, we found nothing of him, or his two companions. He must have made good his escape before the attack, and headed back for reinforcements.”

She crouched discreetly back from Breen who was sitting with her back against the wall.

Brody-1 leaned forward. She was not looking forward to this next bit.

“First choice, if we leave now we have enough food and water to get us back home. Two; staying in this building we will have, long side, about a day and half before the water goes.” Brody continued when there was no response.

“Three; we can go up to all the floors above hoping to find something, maybe rain water from leaks. With this option, water will be gone in one day, which includes short rations.”

Mistress Breen had supervised the search in this room, so there was no way anything could remain hidden. The floor bore marks of their inch-by-inch pounding. Two windows had been broken out, and the building face given a careful look.

That was a waste of time. Brody-1 knew Mistress Breen had broken them because she was afraid of the huge slab doors slamming closed trapping her in a vacuum. She refused to die like their small occupying force.

“Seems I was a little hasty with my new hunting bow,” Mistress Breen chuckled. She had to fight giggles that would make her sound like her mentor, Mistress Ann.

She glanced around the room seeking approval or at least recognition from Leader Sala who had not spoken since Breen’s decision to eliminate Kimraig had entombed them in this room. She would not have her lover much longer it seemed.

“We must return home.” Mistress Breen ended her reign as the 6th of Six with those words.

“Arrange transport for me down the stairs. That dark elevator shaft will not do.”

“Yes Mistress, I will assemble a few of our remaining troopers at each level. Hunter Curtis will need relief from your weight. I am sure he will carry you down the first flight.”

Brody worried about her Curtis. He had not been the same since he had helped his mother pull the bowstring that killed the old Hunter. She was not happy with anyone just now. Following orders was all she could do.

“Brody-1,” Breen stopped her before she could leave.

“Yes Mistress?”

“How large is our force?”

“We number ten, including Leader Sala. All of us suffer wounds. Two will not make it back.” Brody delivered her Battle Group’s status as if she were reading a book.

Only Leader Sala noted the pain clouding the deep pools of her eyes.

“Carry on,” Breen said as she turned away, plotting to cover this failure. She did not bother to look to Brody-1—a handy traitor to blame.

The trip down the stairs squandered most of their daylight. “The former 6th of Six,” as grumbling Trooper’s called Mistress Breen, had to lay flat on each landing. According to her, the pain needed to stop. If they had lowered her down the elevator shaft on an improvised stretcher, an additional hour of warm sun would be in their pocket.

Finally, they breached the ground floor. Brody-1 collected everyone in defensive position and made a quick check on water supplies. She had ordered strict rationing when she knew it would be a longer trip than necessary. Even with that restriction, water was dangerously low. They had cleared the Annex, no need looking for water there.

“Hunter Cullen, form a reconnaissance patrol on the perimeter,” she said as she signaled two Troopers.

“You two, join Hunter Cullen.” She leaned down to Cullen’s ear and whispered. “Do a quick ‘look around.’ We will hold up on the ground floor through the night. No surprises, understood?”

Her lover’s twin grinned, eyes twinkling just as his brother always did before the two of them managed to get themselves caught up by a good brawl. As the three headed out the door, Brody-1 turned back to her Mistress. She did not see Leader Sala follow her lover’s brother.

Hunter Cullen did see her, and thought of reminding her it was dangerous here, but she appeared to want only a few rays of fading sunlight, before she turned back to the dubious safety inside.

He had to make this quick. The sun was already down past the top stories of several remaining multi-story buildings. Their stolid presence cast long, deep shadows along the rubble-strewn street. Keeping to the open area, shields at ready, they made a quick patrol.

That hunting bow and the dart throwers made him nervous. Attacks from a distance had become a certainty rather than a slow lazy flight of a spear or a quick thrust of a sword—no more up close and personal. Ground mist from the right stopped them; best turn back.

He found nothing.

They all bedded down in the short hallway within sight of the road back home. With this small force, they would not put up much of a fight, especially with so few capable of standing for any length of time. It would be a long night.

At almost full light, Brody-1 woke to the familiar whine of solar powered SHORTS pulling to a stop in front of the entrance.

Yates, you sure took your time getting here.
She heard one ramp bang down and knew they were ready to load. The second would wait their arrival. Safety first, the open ramp would leave that unit vulnerable. The other, closed up tight would make a hasty retreat for home—should trouble arrive.

As she herded everyone toward the street, she realized running on energy reserves would not last long. Mistress Breen moaned slightly as two troopers carried her makeshift stretcher quickly up the closest ramp. Hunter Curtis climbed in with her. His anger just seemed to simmer instead of his usual storming at things he could not control. Retreat was no friend.

Brody-1 could hear that old Kimraig. “He will learn, unless real life kills him before I do.”

She had bristled at the thought of him even considering taking his son’s life. As it turned out, her Curtis and Mistress Breen murdered him first, taken by one arrow in the back, another when he was down.

The memory of that sight left a sour taste in every new moment.

Brody-1 and one haggard trooper helped the two badly injured in behind Mistress Breen. She turned to look for Leader Sala and saw Hunter Cullen coming out of the shattered entrance.

“Cullen, go roust Leader Sala, we do not have all day.”

“She is not in here. Look out there.”