Shades of gray, p.10
Shades of Gray, page 10
Fuming, he headed down the corridor to the elevator, aware of the sudden increase in temperature as the air-conditioning broke down. There would be changes made here, by all that was holy! It was time the home world was returned to its former glory.
Realizing he was outpacing his gene-altered guards, he slowed his steps as he came level with the first of the Royal statues. Some of his anger dissipated as he passed it. Already all the statues in the Palace had had their heads replaced with his own likeness instead of that of the previous Emperor. There would be time enough to commission new ones; for now it was more important that those that existed bore his image to remind the rabble in the Palace and the City that he was now the God-King.
The Tooshu
“Power failures and brownouts?” echoed Carrie, who had joined them.
Zsurtul nodded. “I was able to tamper with the local communications too. At present, they can’t reach the fleet, nor can they communicate with the nearby towns that provide the industries they’ll be using to replace cabling and worn-out parts for the ancient defenses.”
“Music, too. Don’t forget the music,” Valden grinned, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other, tail swaying enthusiastically.
“Music?” echoed Kaid.
“Playing over their P.A. at random times. Not that they had anything decent, but I chose what Zsurtul said was martial music—nice and loud.”
“What you did might seem amusing,” said Carrie angrily, “but if they discover someone’s been hacking their system from a distance, they’ll know it was us!”
“No, Carrie,” said Zsurtul, reaching out to touch her arm briefly in reassurance. “They won’t find out. We’ve made it look like the system is old and degrading on its own. It wasn’t difficult, because it is.” He pulled a wry face, a very Human gesture. “It’s one of the things that needs to be replaced urgently.”
“It will be, Zsurtul,” Kaid assured him. “We won’t be leaving K’oish’ik until you’re as impregnable as we can make you. Kezule wants the asteroid, Kij’ik, towed into orbit over the capital. It’ll be a major asset to your planetary defenses.”
“Indeed,” agreed the young Emperor, his expression lightening. “It may even mean the General will stay on K’oish’ik this time.”
Carrie tried not to glance meaningfully at Kaid, but Zsurtul noticed just the same.
“You’re wrong. General Kezule won’t try to rule through me,” he said in a tone they were beginning to recognize. “He refused to be my father’s chief adviser and head of what we called our military. This time, I hope he will not refuse me, especially in light of what happened when he left.”
Was that a note of censure I heard? Carrie sent to Kaid.
Possibly, but he’s certainly stopped any further discussion on the subject, Kaid replied, his mental tone wry. Seems to me we gave him the right military training in leadership skills that his father lacked. However, he’s a little too astute to be relying on what he knows about our body language. I think there may be some truth in Toueesut’s belief our princeling has some mental abilities.
“We’re finished here,” Zsurtul interrupted, moving away from the console. “Shall we adjourn to the rec lounge?”
“By all means,” said Kaid smoothly. He’s taken the whole situation very neatly out of our hands.
“We also messed up their orders for cables and stuff,” said Valden with a laugh. “That K’hedduk is going to be so mad when he finds out. It’ll look like a comp error, of course.”.
Kaid stopped suddenly and turned on the youth. “You are not to go off and do anything on your own, do you hear me? Any bright ideas, come to me! I’m not having you risking everything for the joy of pulling a fast one on K’hedduk and his people!”
“Of course I won’t,” huffed Valden. “I don’t know why you’d think I would. I’m working with Prince Zsurtul now.”
Carrie opened her mouth to reprimand him, but Kaid stopped her with a mental Don’t. You’ll only make it worse. He moved aside to let Valden out.
“We smile and put up with it—for now,” he muttered to her as they followed the two youngsters out.
Ghyakulla’s Summer Realm
Kuushoi was angry, and she knew it showed in the way she held herself as she strode imperiously through the bushes, tail lashing angrily, until she found her sister.
“Why did you take him?” she demanded. “You had no right! He was to be with me another two days! Winter is my season, he belongs to me!”
Ghyakulla turned a faintly surprised face to her, flicking her ears in a Sholan negative.
“What do you mean you don’t know what I’m talking about? I’m talking about Vartra, disappearing in an instant before my eyes, that’s what. You chose your moment well, Sister, I’ll give you that!” she said bitterly. “He left me, unfulfilled and angry, at the peak of our joining! Much good he’ll be to you in an equally frustrated state!”
He is not yours, or mine, she sent, a slight frown creasing her face.
“I refuse to argue about that right now,” Kuushoi said petulantly.
The Summer Goddess reached out to lay a hand on her enraged sister’s shoulder, a gentle smile now on her lips, the green draperies that exactly matched her eyes billowing lightly around her in the warm air.
“Yes, I’m distracted,” Kuushoi admitted, her body beginning to unbend a little as images from her sister filled her mind. “As you asked, I’m maintaining a null zone around Vartra’s child, Kusac, and it is exhausting me. If you didn’t take Vartra, then who did?”
A look of pure rage crossed her face, fading only slightly when her sister gave her a gentle shake and turned away from her, gesturing her to follow.
“The Camarilla!” she hissed, following. “This is beyond accepting, Ghyakulla! How dare they take my lover like this! It’s one thing that they meddle with the mortals, but that they, mere ephemerals, should put themselves above us like this! I want this stopped, Sister! You’ve persuaded me not to intervene until now, but this is beyond endurance!”
Ghyakulla stopped at her fountain, reaching out to pick up a simple pottery cup, made from the clay of her own garden. Filling it, she held it out to her sister, smiling briefly before a more somber look crossed her face as mentally she reassured her.
Kuushoi accepted it gracefully, arranging the pale blue tunic she wore before perching on the edge of the softly tinkling fountain.
“So you’re finally going to act,” she said with satisfaction. “Very well, I’ll leave it to you for now, but if this happens to me again, I warn you, I will take my own actions! Bad enough I am forced to share Vartra with you without him being stolen from my very bed by them!”
She sipped the drink while Ghyakulla bent to pick up one of the jeggets that had crept nervously out from the nearby bushes.
“One of your pets? I don’t know why you bother with them,” Kuushoi said. “The people consider them vermin, you know.”
Her sister said nothing, merely tickled the little creature under the chin.
“Oh, very well,” Kuushoi sighed; rinsing the cup and putting it back in its small niche. “I’ll go back and wait for him to return and leave matters to you.” Her earlier temper was now receding fast. She knew it was her sister’s influence, and she didn’t really resent it. After all, she had voluntarily accepted the calming water.
Standing up, she looked at the jegget, which was obviously enjoying the attention it was getting. “It’s probably for the best that you have Summer, Ghyakulla, even though I am your elder,” she said grudgingly. “I certainly wouldn’t have had time for those vermin. Good-bye.”
Turning, she made a slight gesture, opening a gateway from her sister’s realm to her own. Shimmering in the warmth, the gate, fashioned of ice crystals, stood before her. She stepped through it and was gone.
Ghyakulla remained where she was, shivering slightly at the faint hint of chill in the air that her sister’s portal had left. She was happy in her realm, and the thought of inhabiting Winter as the wife of L’Shoh, the Lord of Hell, had never appealed. Yes, it had been for the best that her sister had stolen the Entity meant to be her husband.
She sighed, her breath dissipating the chill, her thoughts turning to Vartra. Though it broke her heart, Vartra would have to be sacrificed to the Camarilla. If she and L’Shoh intervened, they would show their hand too soon. The faction that had taken him assumed Vartra was an Entity, but he was not: He occupied a special place in the pantheon, a mortal living on as a demigod. The Entities needed to be ignored so that their final solution would come to fruition. Her peaceful Warrior’s very existence now depended on his own ability to withstand what that faction of the Camarilla would do to him.
Walking back to her bower, she turned her thoughts to two of her other charges—Noni and Conner. Now her mouth opened in a gentle smile, the sadness she felt briefly dissipating. Now there was a good match. Both of them had served her well over many years. They deserved the happiness she’d hoped they’d find together. However, there was more for them to do.
With a thought, she called her two assistant dzinaes, Agalimi and Aduan, the spirits of Shola’s two moons.
Shola, Stronghold
Lost in his own thoughts, Conner hadn’t noticed the commotion at first.
“Look! Look up!” The man running toward him was screaming. “They’ll kill us all! Run, run for your life!”
He stopped, confused by the sheer terror in the other’s voice, uncertain if he was drunk or mad. Hands grasped him, fingers biting like claws in the sleeve of his robes.
“Listen to me, dammit!” the man yelled into his face, making him gag at the wave of his sour breath. “They found us! You have to run, get under cover, or they’ll kill you!” Wide, staring eyes glared at him from a pale face.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” he began, keeping his voice calm and reasonable.
“You idiot! If you don’t believe me, then believe your own eyes,” the man snarled, shoving him aside and continuing his mad dash for the houses that ringed the square.
All around him, the people were running for cover, some pointing at the sky overhead, many of them screaming. One or two, like him, simply stood and stared.
He looked up, gasping in shock at what he saw. High above them, it hung in the air, looking like the kind of bauble peasants would hang on the prayer tree for their chosen deity. Moonlight shimmered and glinted off it, making it appear almost ghostly, a thing of less substance than presence. A spindle end projected from its top and hung below it. Between them, a platform hung in nothingness, banded by four slim struts that formed the outline of a globe.
A flash to one side of it drew his attention. It was followed by a streak of light, then another, and finally by a flare so bright that even when he blinked, he still saw it.
Movement from the platform—a cloud of tiny lights, like fireflies, leaving, swarming toward where he’d seen the explosion—caught his eye.
“Our defenses aren’t strong enough yet,” said a voice at his elbow that he almost recognized. “If only we’d had some warning.”
He spun around to face the man, but his face was hidden in the shadows of the clock tower.
“I don’t understand,” he stammered, glancing back at the beautiful monstrosity in the sky.
“There aren’t enough ships berthed at the platform. The attacks came too soon for us.” A low snarl underlaid the voice.
A flare of light, like a bolt of lightning, hissed and crackled through the air, impacting on the central building of the Palace behind him. Stone blocks exploded violently, sending red-hot shards high into the night sky to rain down on the courtyard. Over it all, a high-pitched whine and the smell of burning filled the air.
The red glow of flames lit the man’s face, and as he watched, it began to alter. The ears shrank, becoming smaller, the bridge of the nose filled out until it formed a smooth line to the forehead, and the mouth widened and narrowed, top lip forming a gentle V shape.
It was the eyes that held him—large, bulbous green eyes, with vertical pupils.
With a choking cry of horror, he stumbled backward, desperate to escape the demon. Quicker than his eye could follow, a hand snaked out to grasp hold of him.
“You must warn us, Merlin Llew,” the green-skinned demon said.
“Leave me alone!” he croaked, plucking at the clawed hand. “You caused this!”
“Not me. Look around you. These are my people,” the green demon said. “Look!” he commanded.
He looked, seeing for the first time that he was no longer in his village, that this was not the market square but a huge stone courtyard, lined on one side by buildings and massive statues and on the other by a row of open-air stores, many fronted by tables and chairs.
“See the people!” the voice commanded.
Against his will, he let his eyes focus on those fleeing in terror. All were green skinned and bald like the demon that held him captive.
He recoiled again, Llew’s mind shrinking from a reality he couldn’t accept.
“Look at me, Merlin Llew. Open your eyes and learn what the future holds if you don’t remember.”
He squeezed his eyes even more tightly shut, terrified beyond comprehension, then another bolt hit a building close by, filling the air again with red-hot stinging embers and his nostrils and ears with the stench of burning flesh and screams of agony.
“You’d condemn them to this because they’re different, Merlin?” the voice asked more gently.
This time, the voice was familiar, and against his better judgment, he opened his eyes.
Letting out a low moan, he would have collapsed to the ground had he not been held. His reaction only brought him closer to the being as it changed form yet again.
Gone was the green skin; instead a covering of fur was growing across its face as the ears lengthened into those of a cat, the mouth became smaller, bifurcated, and the nose shrank to more Human proportions then darkened. Hair grew from the bald scalp, cascading down to the being’s shoulders and beyond.
“You must remember, Llew, remember when you are the Merlin Conner, and tell us we were not prepared for the attack on K’oish’ik.”
Memory struggled to the surface. It was a voice he’d only heard once, but it was unmistakable.
“Kusac?”
The Sholan laughed gently, canines shining red in the reflected light of the fires blazing around them.
“No. We have met before, here, in Stronghold.” The voice was altering, becoming high in pitch, more feminine.
Conner blinked, watching as the Sholan’s pelt blanched, turning white in a matter of moments, and he stood in his own bedroom before a small, blue-eyed female, dressed in pure white.
“I was sent to unlock Llew’s memory,” she said, letting him go to run gentle fingertips across his cheek, leaving a trail of coolness behind them. “So you are a Human. It seems I have ignored your kind too long,” she murmured, letting her hand fall to his shoulder and, obviously appraising him frankly, walking around behind him. “I should visit your world of Earth again.”
He shivered, aware of both the chill that emanated from her body and the heat from her eyes as they seemed to bore through his thin sleeping robe.
“What am I to remember?” he asked, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering.
“Patience,” she purred. “I would study you a little longer.”
Clasping his arms across his chest in a futile effort to keep warm, he waited. He felt his hair being moved aside, then her cool nose touched his bare neck; she was only taking in his scent, logic told him.
“Ah, your people chose you well, Conner. The fires of life blaze fiercely in you, and your seed is still strong: just as it should be for a Guardian.”
Her voice was deeper, languorous. Her hand strayed around to caress his throat while against his neck her breath was cool. “And you’re still unmarked on either throat or neck. Perhaps I’ll return to spend some … quality … time with you.” Her laugh rippled like the sound of wind through icicle-laden trees.
He shivered again, reinforcing his mental shields in an effort to distance him from her, but a cold heat began to lap slowly across the nape of his neck, scattering his concentration and leeching what warmth remained from him.
Kuushoi laughed again, letting his hair fall back into place and stepping around in front of him. “Your kind is very fragile. Come, let me warm you now, as I warm the new season’s growth under my blanket of snow.” She spread her arms, mouth widening in a Human smile.
He hesitated, trying to gather his wits. She was altogether too beguiling.
“Your virtue is safe from me—this time, Conner,” she purred, her eyes mocking his indecision as she pushed his arms aside and stepped forward to enfold him. “I only entertain the unattached, and you have no mate.” Her nose tucked itself under his chin—for she was shorter than him—and gently nudged his jaw upward.
Powerless to move, as his mind screamed “No!” a sudden gust of warm, blossom-laden air swirled around and between them, then was gone.
Kuushoi hissed angrily as she leaped back before turning her ice-blue gaze on him again.
Nung flowers, he thought, it had smelled of nung flowers … and it had broken Kuushoi’s spell of ice.
“Tell Kusac alone that his salvation, and that of his Clan, will be found only when he becomes his enemy. Some evils can only be fought from within. You are to guide him, Merlin Conner, help him make wise choices when the time comes. My worthy sister,” her lips lifted briefly in a soundless snarl, “reminds me you are her creature, and bids me tell you that the sand-dwelling reptiles, the Primes, their land withers from neglect. She looks to you to return them to the old ways. What point is there in surviving invasions only to succumb to neglect?”
He nodded, more from reflex than any ability to control his frozen limbs.
She tossed her head, smiling again. “My message is delivered. Now, Conner, I’ll trade you a gift for a gift. Show me your gratitude and grant me a kiss, a foretaste of that Human passion I will one day claim voluntarily from you.” Her hand reached out, and she began to draw a lingering finger down the center of his body.
