King's Sacrifice (72 page)

Abdiel turned,
scythe shaking slightly in the palsied hand. Slowly, talking the
while, he began to retreat down the narrow span of rock, heading for
the entrance to the northern passage that lay behind him.

"I don't
intend to fight you, Derek. I have no need. My forces by this time
have acquired the space-rotation bomb, compliments of His Majesty. I
have a working bomb. I don't need the plans to build another. I shall
simply walk out of here, leave you to the Corasians. That is
not
,
unfortunately, how I intended to destroy you, but I will try to bear
up under the disappointment.

"I suppose
I shall have to go back to that fool, Peter Robes." Abdiel
grimaced, transferred the lidless gaze to Dion. "One final
offer, my king. One last chance to become a true ruler of men? Ah,
don't try it, Derek!" The mind-seizer whirled, faced Sagan, held
up the serpent's tooth. "Unless you'd prefer this 'life' to
death in a Corasian meat locker?"

The Warlord's
fingers clenched and unclenched around the hilt of the small
ceremonial dagger. He said nothing to her, but Maigrey understood his
plan, as they'd always understood each other. He was going to risk it
all on one desperate lunge.

Maigrey glanced
swiftly around, gauged the situation. Dion stood about three paces
from her, to her right. Abdiel was directly in front of her, on the
bridge, Sagan six paces to her left. She was closest to Dion. It
would be her duty to guard the king.

She looked back
at Derek, saw him prepared, mentally, physically, to strike. She put
out of her mind what might happen to him, to them both, and braced
herself to run.

"We can't
just let him go!" Dion shouted, frustrated. He was still
gripping the useless bloodsword. "He has the bomb—"

"No . . .
no, he doesn't, kid. ..."

Dion lowered the
bloodsword, pressed his hand over the commlink at the base of his
skull, behind his left ear. "Tusk?"

The voice was
weak, barely audible.

"I heard,
kid. And I've got the bomb. Safe. Tell that bastard . . . to go to .
. . to go to . . ."

"Tusk!"
Dion cried, but there was no answer.

The young man
raised his eyes, fixed his gaze on Abdiel. "The space-rotation
bomb is safe. Your forces have been defeated."

"You expect
me to believe you?" asked Abdiel coolly.

"I can't
lie to you. You told me that yourself. Contact your disciples,
mind-seizer." Dion stood tall, blue eyes shining cold and
brilliant, reflecting the flame, fire on ice. "Does anyone
respond? Anyone at all?"

"They
won't," added Maigrey, silver armor shining. "I will share
the vision with you, if you want, mind-seizer. The cyborg and his men
have wiped out your mind-dead. The Corasians are under attack and
will soon be destroyed."

"You're
finished, mind-seizer." The Warlord straightened. "Throw
your
blade into the water."

Abdiel's face
did not alter expression, the lidless eyes left Dion, slid to Sagan,
and from Sagan to Maigrey.

"
I'm
finished?' the mind-seizer hissed, and laughed. "Who are really
the losers here? An old man who brought down a royal house? An old
man who has ruled a galaxy for eighteen years? An old man who made
three of the most powerful people in the universe bow to his will?

"Or the
three of you. This is the end of the Blood Royal, and you know it.
You are fighting a battle that, though you win, you must inevitably
lose. For this long' will be the last. . . ."

Abdiel whirled,
aimed the crystal scythe at Dion, and threw.

Maigrey sensed
the mind-seizer's thoughts shift to Dion, saw Abdiel's eyes follow
the thought, his hand follow the eyes. Sagan was racing to stop the
mind-seizer, but the Warlord would be too late. Maigrey sprang
forward, shoved Dion as far from danger as she could, shielded him
with her body.

The crystal
scythe flashed in the air, a small, fiery comet. It struck shining
silver armor. The scythe shattered. Shards of glass glittered in the
blazing light, a myriad tiny, fiery suns fell, gleaming, to the rock
floor, flickered, and went out.

Dion was knocked
to the floor by Maigrey's blow. He started to get to his feet.

"Don't
touch any of the crystal," she warned. "Even the smallest
slivers are still deadly."

Gingerly,
keeping his bare hands off the bits of broken glass, he stood up,
hurried over to her.

"Are you
all right, my lady?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes,
sire." Maigrey smiled, quickly moved her left hand to cover her
right. "And you, Your Majesty?"

"I'm fine."
Dion looked over to Abdiel.

Sagan had one
arm locked around the mind-seizer's chest, his other hand grasped the
needle-glistening palm, kept it pinned firmly to the old man's side.
Abdiel hung limply in the Warlord's grasp. The lidless eyes glinted
malevolently.

Dion stepped
forward. "You are our prisoner, mind-seizer. You will be taken
back to our galaxy and put on trial for your crimes—"

Sagan tightened
his grip. "He must die, Your Majesty. As long as he lives, you
are not safe from him. "

Brother Daniel,
standing behind the bier, forgotten, came hurrying forward. "You
can't mean to murder him, my lord."

"It
wouldn't be murder. An execution. Long overdue."

Dion frowned.
"No, he can do nothing to me now. I know him for what he is.
He's old and feeble and helpless. It would be dishonorable to kill
him. I won't have his murder on my conscience."

The old man
laughed. "You think Derek will obey you? He's long wanted my
death. You won't stop him. And night after night, you will dream of
this place, of this time, my King. And when you dream, Dion, you will
dream of
me
. . . ."He chuckled again, dryly, a hoarse
croak. "Go ahead. Kill me, Lord Derek Sagan. I've done for worse
to you!"

The lidless eyes
looked to Maigrey, and they shone with a strange and terrible
exultation.

Maigrey stood
quietly, calmly, her left hand covering her right. The grey eyes were
mirrors, without expression, letting no one inside. Sagan saw, on her
fingers, a thin, glistening trail of blood.

The old man
disdained to struggle. He seemed almost to nestle in the Warlord's
arms. "Kill me, Derek!" he breathed. "Kill me now!
Kill me while the boy watches. Kill me, as you killed his Guardian. .
. . Kill me as you will kill the one, the only person you ever loved.
..."

"Sagan,
no!" Dion shouted. "I command you!"

"My lord,
stop! For the sake of your own soul!" Brother Daniel endeavored
to fling his arms around Sagan.

The Warlord
didn't hear, couldn't hear for the roaring of the raging anger within
him. He hurled Daniel from him, knocked Dion away. Sagan's strong
hands took firm hold of the old man's frail neck, twisted, jerked.

Bones cracked
and crunched. Abdiel screamed horribly. His head flopped like the
head of a broken doll, the feeble body went limp. But the lidless
eyes stared at Sagan, seemed to be laughing at him. The dead lips
were parted in a smile. The Warlord flung the corpse to the ground,
kicked the body, kicked it to the edge of the bridge.

Brother Daniel
ran to stop the desecration. "My lord, no more!" he
pleaded.

Sagan kicked the
corpse off the bridge. It fell into the fiery water with a splash,
floated on the surface amid the flames. The magenta robes began to
smoke, smolder. Abdiel's face looked up at them, smiling.

Daniel saw the
madness in the Warlords eyes. The priest turned to Maigrey, hoping
she might help. "My lady!" he began, but his words died on
his lips.

She had moved
swiftly to wipe away the blood, wipe it on the silver armor. But not
swiftly enough.

"
Deus!
"
Brother Daniel whispered.

Maigrey saw he
knew the truth.

"Say
nothing to him." She spoke without a voice, glanced meaningfully
at Dion.

Sick at heart,
horror-stricken, Brother Daniel turned away. Abdiel's body, floating
in the water, had caught fire and was blazing brightly. The smell of
burned flesh drifted up with the smoke. The prayer for the salvation
of the soul of the dead was bitter on the priest's lips. He placed
his hand on the Warlord's arm.

"My lord, I
know, I understand," Daniel said softly. "She needs you
now. His Majesty needs you. Don't abandon them."

The Warlord drew
a long, shuddering breath. The fire died in his eyes, died in his
heart.

"Dion!"
A woman's clear voice echoed through the chamber. "Dion! Where
are you? Are you in there?"

"Nola?"
Dion turned toward the eastern tunnel entrance. "Nola! I'm
here!"

Sagan took
advantage of the distraction to grab hold of Brother Daniel's arm,
draw him near.

"You know?"
Sagan repeated. "You understand what will happen to her?"

"Yes, my
lord."

"Then you
know you've got to get the king out of here. Take him up to the
surface. Stay with him."

"God help
me!" the priest whispered. "What do I say?"

"Anything!
Make some excuse! Just—"

A woman ran
inside the chamber. Ignoring everyone else, she hurried to Dion,
grasped hold of him. "It's Tusk, Dion. He's hurt. Bad, really
bad. He's—" She paused, unable to keep from crying.
Shaking the tears from her eyes, she continued steadily, "he's
dying. He needs you."

"Tusk . . .
dying." Dion stared at her.

"You must
go to him, Dion," Maigrey said. She swayed where she stood, but
her voice was firm. "He's your friend. He needs you now. You owe
him a great deal."

The Warlord put
his arm around her. Maigrey leaned against him, grateful for the
support.

"I owe him
more than I can ever possibly repay," Dion said quietly.

"Dion,
come, please!" Nola clasped hold of him.

"Of course,
I'll come. Don't cry, Nola He's going to be fine. It's probably just
a flesh wound. You know what a fuss he makes."

"I'm a
nurse, Your Majesty," said Brother Daniel, thanking God his
prayer had been answered. One of them, at least. "Perhaps I
could be of assistance. If ... if my lord doesn't need me—?"

"Go with
His Majesty, Brother. I will do what needs to be done here. "

The priest heard
the bitter grief in the man's tone, saw it in the face, dark,
ravaged. Maigrey's skin was deathly white, the livid scar had all but
disappeared. And though the Warlord supported her, it seemed that she
was the one giving him strength, not needing it. She smiled at the
priest.

Brother Daniel
came to her, placed his hand on her wrist. "God is with you,"
he said in a low voice.

"It makes
no difference," she said steadily. "The choice was mine."

The Warlord's
faced darkened. "Is He with us, Brother? Where?"

The priest
started to reply, to give the proper response, the response he'd
known and trusted in all his life. But his hand on Maigrey's arm
could feel, already, the fever of the poison burn in her flesh.
Abruptly, he turned away.

"Ill be
sending for
Phoenix
, my lord," Dion was saying. Sheathing
his bloodsword, he strapped the weapon around his waist. "The
warship will destroy this planet and its machines for good. Well get
Tusk to the sick bay. I'll be on his Scimitar, if I'm needed."

Dion glanced at
Maigrey, frowned. "You should come back with us, my lady. That
cut on your hand doesn't look serious, but it should be attended to."

Maigrey's lips
parted to answer. Her voice foiled her. Sagan clasped her tightly,
lent her his strength.

She drew a deep
breath. "Go to Tusk, Dion. He made this sacrifice for you. Only
you can help him now, if you choose to do so."

Dion didn't know
how to respond. He had the feeling that something was dreadfully,
terribly wrong, but it was as if a thick curtain of darkness had been
dropped before his eyes. He struggled to part it. Stronger hands and
minds than his kept it intact.

Nola fidgeted
nervously beside him, tugged at his sleeve.

"God go
with Your Majesty," said Maigrey.

Dion stared at
her, stared at Sagan, trying to penetrate the shadows.

The curtain
remained lowered.

Turning on his
heel, back stiff, head held high, the king walked out, left his
Guardians behind.

E quindi
uscimno a riveder le stelle.

Thence we came
forth to see the stars again.

Dante,
Divina
Commedia. Inferno.

Maigrey and
Sagan stood alone in the chamber of burning water, alone, except for
the dead.

"Dions
angry," said Maigrey, looking after the king, her last image of
him blurred by her tears. "He doesn't understand."

"He will,
soon enough," replied Sagan.

Maigrey felt her
reason slipping from her. The pain was intense, sapping her strength,
wearing her down. It had taken all the courage and effort of her will
to remain standing, to hide the truth from Dion. Darkness came over
her. On the horizon of her mind, she could see armies of twisted,
demented creatures rising up to do batde. They did not come to kill
her, she knew, but to arm her with terrible weapons, and carry her,
triumphant, to be their leader in murderous insanity.

"My lady
..." Sagan's voice, gentle, called her.

He caught her
when she fell, held her in his arms, and for a moment the armies were
driven back, daunted by the bright gleam of his golden armor.
Clashing their weapons, they howled and gibbered in impatience. But
they kept their distance. For the time being. They were patient. They
knew victory must ultimately be theirs.

"You'll . .
. stay with Dion?" Maigrey asked.

"He doesn't
need me now, my lady. He will do better on his own. Abdiel was right.
Though we won the battle, we must lose the war. We are the end. He is
the last. After him, the crown returns to ordinary mortals."