Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine (25 page)

“Krell—” She knocked his compassionate hand away.

“No!”

“Krell?”

“She’s not dead.” She had managed to regain control. “I feel her. I hear her heartbeat.”

“Oh, Krelleesha,” he sighed. The denial was familiar. Their father had experienced much the same reaction when their mother passed away. Krell didn’t remember, but he did. The death hadn’t sunk into him for several cycles, leaving the family’s well-being solely in a young Firman’s lap until their father had regained his faculties.

There were no tears in Belsas’s battle-hardened eyes. “Whellen, you were LaRenna’s friend. Please contact my compound on Saria Three and notify them of our loss.”

“Yes, Grandmaster.” Malley, preferring to grieve in silence, slowly withdrew from the room.

Belsas’s hands were icy on Chandrey’s slumped shoulders. “Ockson, have your crew prepare a recovery detail. I’ll assist. We must bring my daughter home to rest.”

“It’s the least I could do, Belsas.” Ockson silently followed Malley out the lift doors.

Last, Belsas addressed Krell in a no less officious tone. “You’re needed on the recovery detail as well. LaRenna was your intended. You must travel to Saria Three with the body so you can witness the death rites.”

“I’ll go to the surface,” she replied. “But it won’t be to recover a corpse.” Krell peered at Saria Four. It wasn’t such a big place, most of the landmass on the Reisfall continent, the remainder scattered on dozens of small islands. LaRenna was on the continent, Krell was certain, unconscious but breathing, dreaming of nothing but Krell’s impending rescue. The dream link would help, be a beacon for Krell to follow. And Krell had to follow, for where LaRenna was so was Krell, bound by desire and heart, dependence of mind and body. She shoved off Firman’s helping hands, and rose to stand before Belsas, her face hardened with resolve. “No, there will be no funeral fires, no memorial, no ashes scattered. LaRenna is alive and I have every intention of finding her.”

The storms of life are oftentimes longer and rougher than any nature can create.

—Taelach wisdom

Thunder rumbled at a distance, lightning flaring the clouds into brilliance. A drizzle began to fall, pooling then trickling water into the launch’s twisted remains, where a pencil-thin stream dripped onto Trazar’s face and into his nose, waking him with a chilled, choking start. Disoriented, head pounding from the hard crack it had received, he wondered why the safety straps felt so tight. He shifted position and his splintered left armrest fell past his head to clang on the ceiling. The ceiling? Trazar became aware of his location. The launch had toppled bottom up in the crash, leaving its passengers dangling upside down.

He rested his feet on the launch’s metal framework then disengaged his harness. Rolling out of the seat, he crouched for a minute in his topsy-turvy setting. When his head cleared, he checked the other passengers.

Cance was nowhere to be seen. Her console was smashed beyond repair and the clear aluminum window in front of her seat was missing. Talmshone was unconscious and bleeding profusely from his side. A metal support rod had broken loose during the crash and run him almost through. LaRenna hung limp in her restraints, her hands brushing the ceiling. The pressure of the straps had restricted her airflow to the point her skin was tinged blue. Trazar carefully unlatched her harness and pulled her into his arms.

Her right foot was pinned beneath Cance’s seat. Trazar turned her so her calf and knee were aligned with the break, then lowered her slowly until her shoulders rested on the ceiling.

“My leg,” she mumbled.

“It’s the same one as before.” He pushed against the seat. “Let me look.” Trazar gently touched the splint. The ankle had popped back out of joint, this time penetrating her flesh. The bones of her calf were knocked from alignment and pushed black against her skin. Her heel hung from the bone in fleshy strips. Blood streaked the entirety of her leg.

“Bad, isn’t it?” she asked. The foot was numb, making the extremity seem curiously detached.

“No worse than before,” declared Trazar. “We just need to get it loose.” He began scrounging for something to use as a pry bar.

“How about that hatch brace?” inquired LaRenna. “It’s cracked at both ends.”

“Excellent idea.” Trazar crawled to the door. The piece fit perfectly under the chair frame, allowing him to free her tattered limb. He eased it out and examined the wounds, his dour expression not lost to his sister’s sore but observant eyes. “I’m going to remove the splint.”

“I believe it’s beyond the splint.” LaRenna winced at the sight of her mangled leg. “No worse than before, eh? Liar. It’s all but gone. But you said that for my benefit, didn’t you? Thanks, Trazar. A little fantasy is what I need at this moment.” Then her face took an odd, highly anxious twist, her concern now more for him than herself. “Mother’s mercy, look at you!” She pressed his forehead. “No tales this time, Commander. Your head hurt? You’ve quite a knot coming up.”

“My skull is shattering with every throb of my heart,” he moaned, grinning then withdrawing when her expression turned longer. “Don’t worry about me. It’s just one of many bumps to the head I’ve endured in my life. It’ll add nicely to what the lizard gave me.” He pulled away when she touched the tender nodule again. “Now that hurts, LaRenna. Hands off. So, as long as we’re comparing injuries, how are the ribs?”

“Don’t ask.” She returned his theatrical moan, but something in the sound told Trazar little acting was involved. “Whatever our ills, I think we both fared better than Talmshone.” They glanced at the inversed Iralian, whose breathing had slowed to a wheeze.

“We couldn’t help him now if we tried.” Trazar was, at most, distantly sympathetic.

“I’ve never seen his kind before.” LaRenna was intrigued by the Iralian’s resemblance to many common Sarian reptiles.

“Pray you never do again. They’re ruthless. They teach sentries to kill themselves if they become captive.”

“Taelachs, too.” She broke her curious gaze. “Better than becoming a meal one limb at a time.” Then LaRenna abruptly tensed and scanned the cockpit, her joy over survival doused by promised lessons. “Where is she?”

“Cance? Thrown from the launch would be my guess. Serves her right for not strapping in.” His assuring words did nothing to ease her mind. “Would you feel better if I took a look?”

“Please.” LaRenna’s hands felt her marked face. The mental wounds would be much slower in healing. “I’m not sure I can fight her off again. How Chandrey survived being oathed to such a beast I’ll never know.”

“You’re stronger than you think.” Trazar clenched his fist. “And this time she’ll have to go through me to get to you.”

“Be careful.”

He took the hatch brace and scooted to the open front window. The wind was picking up. “Stay away from the opening. I’ll be back soon.”

“Hurry, Trazar.” LaRenna shivered. “A storm’s coming.”

“Call if you need me.” The ground surrounding the crash was layered with charred wreckage and twisted metal. Cursing the deluge that began to fall, he flipped over the lighter pieces with the brace, looking for any sign of Cance. Nothing crossed his path in the immediate area of the launch, so he expanded his search pattern, scattering wreckage further in his quest. During one of the lightning bursts, the unmistakable glint of Taelach weaponry caught his eye. Trazar approached it warily, the brace raised club-like above his head.

Cance lay facedown in the mud. Her plasma bow had entangled in a shrub’s upper limbs, grotesquely stretching her arm when she fell. Trazar was now glad he had been unable to land safely. He used the brace to free Cance’s arm and flip her over. Her eyes fluttered then opened. “LaRenna.” Her face contorted in agony. “Did she survive?”

“No thanks to you.” Trazar raised the brace.

“Bring her to me.”

“Never.”

“Make it my last request.”

“I wouldn’t put her through that.” Trazar lifted Cance’s arm and let it drop. There was no muscle reaction, no response. She was paralyzed from high neck down, her body functions failing one after another. “You deserve to die like this, like some dumb beast with its head up and mouth open in wonder of the rain. Drowning suits you.”

“Bring me LaRenna.” Cance spat out the rain that ran into her mouth. “I want to die in my beauty’s arms, in the warmth of her phase.”

“You don’t deserve such pleasure. Mine will be the last face you see, last voice you hear.”

Trazar brushed the mud from her cragged face. “Where’s your inhaler? I’ll grant you that small salvation.”

“My cloak pocket,” she mumbled between gurgling breaths. “Mother praise you for this.”

“Your blessed Mother has nothing to do with it. You damned yourself long ago.” Trazar jerked her muddy cloak free of her body and rifled through the pocket. “I don’t want you howling when the end comes. It’ll scare LaRenna.”

“Then hurry up,” said Cance in a strangely helpless, girl-child’s voice. “I’m just short of it now.”

“It’s not here.” Trazar smoothed her cloak over her body. “Must have blown off in the crash. What else can I do to make you comfortable?”

“Bring my woman!” Cance’s chest began to tighten. “She must know how much I love her.”

“Love?” He tried to shush her cries with his hand. “That was love?”

“As I only know and can give. Where’s your compassion, man? This is my dying wish. She’s mine. Bring her now!”

“No. Quiet yourself.”

“I will not!” The tightness had become crippling, pushing Cance into the dirt. “If you won’t bring her, then strike me and end it. Do it now! You know you want to,” she gasped. “There’s a joy in taking another’s life, a high greater than prock, more satisfying than forcing yourself on another.” She stared at him a moment, then summoning up the last of her strength, bellowed at him, “Do it, Trazar! I won’t be silent until you do.”

“I know the high.” He held the brace above his head. “It’s a gruesome, sickening feeling, a whisper for more. I sense it now. But I’ll not do it for that reason. Not for pleasure or vengeance. Not because you warrant it.” The brace pierced Cance’s chest. She arched, flexed into the blow then collapsed, Chandrey’s then LaRenna’s name escaping in her final breath.

“There must be peace. She has to know you’re gone.” He withdrew the brace, cleaning it against the grass. “May the Taelach Mother forgive me.” He took Cance’s knife then scurried back to the launch, pulling a large piece of debris over the open window to deflect some of the deluge. “Miss me?”

LaRenna opened her eyes. “Did you find her?”

Trazar nodded his wet head in her face, glad he could respond in a way that would provide relief. “She’s dead.”

“Not soon enough.” LaRenna closed her eyes again, covering them with her hands as tears began to fall. Unsure of what else to do, Trazar pulled her to him. She fell against him when she was touched, shuddering violently, mumbling incoherently. Eventually, and as the pain in her sides became great, her quiet sobs eased then ceased all together. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, clearing her eyes.

“Better? At least a little?” He brushed the hair from her face.

“Somewhat. I—I’m sorry I broke down like that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s called trauma, LaRenna, and no one, even a Kimshee, is above its effect.” The emergency lights flickered as wind began to rock the overturned launch. “We’d best wrap your foot before the lighting gives out.” Trazar settled her into a corner, then took Cance’s dagger, using it to slice off portions of Talmshone’s trousers. “Don’t think he’ll be needing these and we need the rags.”

“Guess not.” LaRenna smiled at him for the first time since the night they met. It was a mere speck of a turn, but a vast improvement over her earlier state.

“You smile like your older sister Mercy.”

“I do?”

“Yep.” Trazar undid her splint. “You’re an aunt.”

“Really? Tell me about our family.” LaRenna appreciated the distraction. “Are our parents still alive?”

Trazar fumbled through the launch’s emergency stores. “Dah is, though I’m not sure how he’ll handle the news of you.”

“What do you mean?”

He placed a small medical kit and two blankets by her side. “Your name is listed on the Death Stone above our farming compound. Everyone thinks you died at birth.” Trazar held the hatch brace to her shin. “I’m going to immobilize your leg.”

“He listed me as dead because I’m Taelach, didn’t he?” LaRenna could tell by her older brother’s sullen manner she was correct.

He gazed at her then shrugged, his reply flat and somewhat embarrassed. “On Vartoch it’s commonplace to list Taelach children as deceased. Most Autlachs where I’m from have an outdated view of the Taelach, LaRenna. Bearing one mars a family’s reputation. Your people are still very much feared.” He returned to the emergency stores case and handed her a bottle of water and ration pack. “Here, you need the strength.”

“What about you?”

“I want to finish this first.” Trazar turned his attention to her injured leg. He irrigated open wounds with liquid antibiotic from the medical kit, expressing mild surprise when LaRenna failed to react to the cold liquid’s bubbling action. Next, he wrapped the ankle in a rolled bandage and positioned the brace on the underside of her leg. LaRenna watched with detached interest as he shredded one of the Iralian’s trouser legs into binding strips and used them to secure the brace.