thefiremargins (45 page)

* * *

Fyak's warriors still used the traditional riding beasts for traveling across the desert. Carrie would have said they looked like a cross between an ox and a camel, had she seen them. Unlike aircars, they were cheap to run, supplied many of the tribes' physical needs for food and fuel, and had air inlets specially evolved to cope with the sandstorms.
Kaid, his hands bound behind his back, spent the journey between Rhijudu and Fyak's lair at Chezy pressed hard against the greasy fur that covered the creature's thick bony neck. His captor sat behind him holding firmly onto Kaid's bound hands as well as his mount's reins.
Pain caused by the stunner still jangled through his body. Pulled behind him as his arms were, the strain on his injured forearm was exacerbated by the jolting gait of the beast, and he spent much of the journey drifting in and out of consciousness.
He surfaced again as he was being hauled off the creature and into the entrance to Fyak's underground lair. His two guards stopped only long enough for him to set his feet on the ground, then he was hustled along a sandstone passageway till they reached the main chamber. There the bulk of Fyak's experienced warriors were working on stripping down and cleaning their weapons while the others were unpacking crates of new firearms.
He had no chance to take it in properly before he was hauled off to a smaller side chamber. A large table dominated the room. Bending over it were Fyak and several older males: they were studying a map of the surrounding area.
Fyak looked up, his eyes glinting as they settled on Kaid.
"So this is the Brother that Ghezu wants," he purred, moving round the table until he stood opposite him.
Head still throbbing from the effects of the stunner, Kaid began to sway as his escort released him and moved back to the door.
"You don't look much like the feared warrior that Ghezu described," Fyak said, walking round him.
The footsteps stopped immediately behind him. "You're wounded!" Fyak's tone had changed to one of fury. "I said I wanted him brought in whole, that's why you were issued stunners! Who shot him?" he demanded of the two males. "And why is he still bound?"
"He was bleeding when we found him, Prophet," said one, drawing a knife to slit the bindings round Kaid's wrists. "The wound isn't new."
Fyak hissed in annoyance. "Get him seen to." He walked round in front of Kaid again and reached out to grasp him by the uninjured shoulder. "When you're recovered, we'll talk again." He turned to the guards. "Take him to Anirra and have his wound dealt with. Treat him with courtesy," he ordered.
His arms freed, the returning circulation only exacerbated the pain from his wound. He winced as he brought them round in front of himself, then before he had the chance to massage some feeling back into them, he was grasped firmly again and escorted back to the main cavern. This time they took him down a narrow side corridor till they came to an infirmary.
An odor of antiseptic greeted them as they stepped through the curtain into the small ward. He saw a medic rise from the bedside of one of the patients.
"Another one? Haven't you had your fill of blood yet? I'm running out of suppressant drugs to treat them with. You'll need to get me more."
"He isn't a telepath, Anirra, he's one of the Brotherhood. Fyak wants his wound seen to. Says he's to be well treated. Where d'you want him?"
"In the examination room," said Anirra, gesturing to the far end of the ward.
Stumbling as they went, Kaid was led through to the back. At last they released him. He reached out for the examination table, holding on to it to steady himself. All he wanted to do was sleep.
"Help him up!" said Anirra sharply, going over to wash his hands.
Unceremoniously, he was lifted up onto the table. He sat there, holding onto the edge, waiting.
"Well? I'm sure you've got work to do!" Anirra said to the guards.
Kaid watched them take their leave, then the medic turned to look at him.
Anirra took hold of his forearm, examining it carefully. The dried blood had stuck his shirt to his arm like glue.
"I'm going to have to cut your shirt off. It's stuck firmly. I'll only reopen the wound if I try to pull it free. Take your jacket off, please, then lie down."
Kaid eased the jacket over his shoulder, lifting his injured arm free. As he struggled to push it off his good arm, the medic leaned forward and helped him. Carefully pulling his legs up, Kaid lay down.
Anirra was reaching across him to the shelf where his scissors lay when he suddenly stopped, his hand going to touch a patch of singed fur on Kaid's thigh.
A hiss of pain, quickly turning to a low moan, escaped Kaid as his muscles clenched involuntarily.
"That's a stunner burn!"
Kaid closed his eyes, waiting for the throbbing in his leg to decrease, trying to focus on the litany for pain. The medic's footsteps receded then returned and he felt the cool touch of the hypoderm against his neck. A slight sting, then the analgesic took hold, quieting his screaming nerves. He could feel the tension drain out of his muscles, and gradually, he was able to relax his body. The pain in his arm was no more than a dull throb now, as was the headache.
"Better?" asked Anirra.
"Yes." His voice was a croak. He smelled water and opened his eyes to find Anirra holding out a beaker. He raised himself on his uninjured side and gratefully took it from him, drinking deeply before handing the empty beaker back.
Anirra set it aside, then began cutting the shirt free of the wound until only a small piece of fabric was left attached to him.
"The analgesic was strong. You'll find yourself becoming drowsy very shortly. What do they call you?"
"Kaid," he replied. Lying there, he worked on stilling his mind and beginning the litany to banish pain again as Anirra sponged the stiff cloth free of his arm. It was painful, but at last it was done and Anirra was able to remove the rest of his shirt.
"You've used Fastheal," he said accusingly as he carefully probed the edges of the wound. "How long ago did you sustain this injury?"
"Eight or nine days."
"What dosage of Fastheal?"
"I forget." He heard the sound of a hand scanner passing over his arm. Opening his eyes, he waited till the scan was complete before grasping Anirra's hand and pulling the unit closer so he could read it.
"Fastheal has to be carefully administered, otherwise you deplete the body's reserves," Anirra said, anger in his voice as he pulled himself free. "You've abused the drug to the point where this wound will take twice as long to heal naturally. The tissues are inflamed and you'll be lucky if an infection hasn't set in!"
"Vitamins and rehydration are all I need," said Kaid, letting his good arm fall back by his side. "I injured myself again trying to avoid capture, that's why it's inflamed." His eyes closed again and the world around him gradually faded.

* * *

"A month's too much. I want him on his feet long before that!"
"With respect, Prophet," he heard Anirra answer, "he's already over-used Fastheal. A second dose would be dangerous."
"Find a way!"
He heard the receding footsteps, then Anirra swearing. "Dammit! He demands the impossible of me! Get him set up with catheters and canulas— I'll have to do a sleep cure."
"Yes, Doctor."
A sharp prick in his arm, a slight feeling of pressure, then nothing.

* * *

His sleep was uneasy, haunted as it was by images. Pillars of flame stood before him, calling him to pass through them but he retreated, unwilling to enter the world of fire and devastation he knew lay beyond. Unable to wake properly, he felt his body being moved, examined, then probed by sharp implements that brought momentary pain.
Against his chest he felt a sensation of coolness, a burning with no fire, no pain. He grasped at the crystal he wore round his neck, holding onto it through all that long night, anchoring his reason to it as the one solid object in his world.
He awoke abruptly, eyes open, body tensed, hands ready at his sides. He could sense no one else present. The room was unfamiliar. The soft light of an oil lamp on the night table cast a gentle glow on the sparse furnishings and the sandstone walls of the room. As well as the bed in which he lay, there was a small chest against the wall, a stool, and a woven rug.
The air smelled reasonably fresh but he sensed the faint scent of the medic, Anirra. He pushed himself up, then realized he was resting his weight on his injured arm— and it didn't hurt.
Sitting bolt upright, he examined the wounded forearm. All that remained was a hairless line of bright pink scar tissue. Incredulously he explored the scar with a cautious fingertip. A little sensitive but nothing more.
He remembered the second hypoderm. He'd been drugged then, but for how long? Running his hands through his hair he realized it had grown by perhaps a couple of centimeters. More than a night, that was certain. A month? Had he lain here drugged for the last month?
Throwing back the covers, he climbed out of bed. On the chest he could see his uniform jacket, his belt, and a fresh shirt. As he walked over to them, he realized that there was none of the weakness in his limbs that he'd have expected if he'd been unconscious for so long. Not a month, then. For all Anirra said, he must have used Fastheal. That would account for the hair growth.
As he was buckling the belt, the door opened, admitting one of the desert people complete in tan robes and head covering.
"Good morning. We've been waiting for you to waken. A meal awaits you, then the Word of Kezule has commanded that you be brought to him. Please, follow me."
"One moment," said Kaid. "Who's this Word of Kezule?"
"The Prophet Fyak," said the male, turning back to frown at him as he held the door open. "You are his guest. It's due to his generosity your wounds have been treated."
"How long have I been here?"
"The Prophet will answer all your questions in his own time," was the placid answer.
As he followed the warrior into the main cavern, Kaid smelled food and realized he was hungry. Tended cooking fires glowed in one corner and nearby, empty packing crates formed crude tables and seats.
A large plate of eggs and cooked meat with a couple of slices of bread on the side was handed to him by a female who kept her eyes firmly turned from his. As he made his way to the nearest table, his companion collected two mugs of c'shar, then rejoined him.
While he ate, Kaid assessed his surroundings. Definitely no chance of escape, the cavern was far too busy. They might be treating him as a guest for now, but he was no less a prisoner for that. He glanced again at the female by the cooking fires. She was serving a couple of the warriors with c'shar and, as with him, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on her task, never looking at the males.
"If you're wondering what a female is doing outside her home, she's too old to have cubs so Fyak ordered her to cook for us. There are a few like her who'll never be given a mate, but then they chose to live alone in the first place. That one came from the Laasoi Guildhouse. She reckoned herself a warrior. Not any more." He grinned as Kaid looked back at him. "She knows better than to raise a hand against any male now."
Kaid grunted noncommittally and finished his meal.
"I'll take you to the Prophet," his companion said, getting to his feet.
They walked across the cavern to the room where he'd first been taken. This time, Fyak was alone except for one guard— from the look of him, the commander of that unit.
Fyak looked up as they entered.
"I see you're in better health now," he said. "I hear your wound is fully healed."
"My thanks, Prophet," said Kaid, aware that the male who'd accompanied him had remained and was standing behind him, against the door. "I hope I haven't imposed on your hospitality. Perhaps you'd be so good as to tell me how long I've been here?"
"Time is irrelevant," said Fyak, resting his elbows on the desk in front of him. "You remember me telling you that Guild Master Ghezu is interested in your whereabouts."
"I don't remember much about our last meeting, I'm afraid," said Kaid.
"It seems Ghezu wishes me to deliver you into his— tender care. Have you any idea why he should want this?" Fyak's voice was a gentle purr as he raised a questioning eye ridge.
"None," said Kaid, aware of Fyak's minute examination.
"Strange." Fyak rested his chin in one hand, his sleeve falling back to expose the broad gold bracelet he wore. "I assume it involved the dead female in some way since Ghezu said we'd find you at her house."
Kaid shrugged, maintaining a disinterested facade. In reality he was using it to justify looking round the room, gleaning all the information about Fyak that he could. His gaze kept returning to the bracelet. There was something about it, a familiarity he couldn't explain. Where had he seen its like before?
Fyak frowned, sitting up and putting his arms on the desk. "I think you owe me a few answers in return for my hospitality," he said sharply. "If I hand you over to Ghezu, your fate will not be as pleasant as it could be if you remained here."
"We have an old score to settle," admitted Kaid, bringing his attention back to the prophet.
"Perhaps I shan't tell Ghezu I have you. Maybe I have another use for you," said Fyak, sitting back in his chair, his arms stretched along the armrests, claw tips gently tapping the wood. "I have a proposition to put to you, one that is infinitely more attractive than being Ghezu's unwilling guest."
"What kind of proposition?" asked Kaid.
"I don't entirely trust Ghezu's promise of neutrality. I need someone capable of training my people properly. He said you were the best of the Brothers, and I've no reason to doubt that in view of his dislike of you. I want my fighters not only to be able to stand against the Brotherhood if necessary, but to be able to withstand the minds of the telepaths."
Kaid considered him for a moment. "It depends on the individual fighter. Not everyone can learn that skill," he said. "As for combat, you've already got seasoned fighters here. Why do you need me to train them? And anyway, why do you want them to learn the mental disciplines against telepaths?"
"That's my concern," said Fyak. "I've told you all you need to know for now. Will you accept my offer, or would you prefer to be handed over to Ghezu?"
Kaid mentally ran through what he'd learned so far. A captive female warrior from the Laasoi Guildhouse reinforced the newscast he'd heard several weeks before. It might have been Fyak's first move outside the desert: it certainly wouldn't be his last. If he wanted his warriors trained to a higher standard, he was planning a larger campaign where he knew he'd be up against a better trained force— possibly including the Brotherhood. That suggested he had an agenda Ghezu knew nothing about. Then the anti-telepath training: that meant he expected to be dealing with telepath guildhouses again.
He tried to envisage the local geography. What was Fyak after? The Tribes. He was attempting to unite all the tribes before taking his warriors over the pass into the fertile lowlands to the west. If he managed that, there'd be no stopping him. Fighting against fanatical warriors who could emerge from the forests, attack the estates in the plains, then disappear again almost without trace, was a terrifying thought. And Ghezu had embroiled the Brotherhood in this!
Vartra, cast his soul into the deepest pit of hell,
he prayed.
"Well?" demanded Fyak. "What takes you so long? I'd have thought it obvious my offer was more attractive."
Kaid shrugged. "When do I start?" Time was his ally. With enough time, he could discover the details of Fyak's plans and maybe even escape.