The Gathering Flame (47 page)
Read The Gathering Flame Online
Authors: Debra Doyle,James D. Macdonald
The alarm bell continued to clamor.
Tillijen pointed back in the direction of the Morning room. “Through this way,” she said. “If that’s the alert, we don’t have much time.”
“You must go your way,” Ser Hafrey said. “And I, mine.”
He bowed to her, the full bow of respect for what she was and for what she had been, and for the one whom she prefigured, and stepped aside into the shadows.
Ser Hafrey was gone. Tillijen couldn’t tell where … he simply wasn’t there any longer. She turned back to the fireplace and pushed on the carved stone. The back of the hearth swung open.
A doorway
, she thought. She’d heard stories of secret rooms, but had never encountered a real one before.
, she thought. She’d heard stories of secret rooms, but had never encountered a real one before.
She had no time to think about this one—a flash of light brighter than anything she had ever seen before came into the chamber through the windows and through the open door leading back to the Morning Room. The light washed all the color out of the stones, and the reflected heat seared her face and hands.
Energy strike,
she thought, and didn’t wait for the light to fade. She leaped into the open passageway, set her back to the stone door, and pushed it shut. The latch clicked into place as the shock wave hit. The stone door vibrated against her back and shoulders. The explosion roared in her ears, and the foundations of the palace trembled under her feet.
she thought, and didn’t wait for the light to fade. She leaped into the open passageway, set her back to the stone door, and pushed it shut. The latch clicked into place as the shock wave hit. The stone door vibrated against her back and shoulders. The explosion roared in her ears, and the foundations of the palace trembled under her feet.
She waited for her dazzled vision to return. Ser Hafrey—had he lived through the strike? Maybe, she thought; he was a clever one. But if he’d gone back to the morning room, he would have taken the full force of the blast. She put him from her mind. There was nothing she could do for him now.
Bit by bit, her vision returned. She stood in a small cubicle lit by a pale blue glowbulb in a rocky niche. At her feet a spiral stair led downward through the rock on which the Summer Palace stood. She took a step forward, drawing her blaster as she did so—not as a threat, or because she thought there would be a target, but for comfort’s sake. With the fingertips of her other hand brushing the stone wall, she began her descent into the lower reaches.
The stairway opened out at the bottom into a passage—a tunnel, really, almost certainly below ground level. The air felt thick, and the hidden compressors of air-filtration systems throbbed against her eardrums. The available light was dim and tinged with crimson.
Emergency glows
, thought Tillijen.
That’s bad.
, thought Tillijen.
That’s bad.
Through the soles of her boots she felt another tremor in the earth. A second energy hit? Probably, she decided. She’d never been on a planet under serious Mage assault, but she’d been on a ship,
Rifter’s Pride
, as it was disabled and destroyed by long-distance gunfire. The feeling was much the same.
Rifter’s Pride
, as it was disabled and destroyed by long-distance gunfire. The feeling was much the same.
The passage led forward about twenty paces before it branched into a four-way intersection. She took the righthand path, and walked slowly forward, one hand brushing the wall and the other holding her weapon leveled at waist height. Doorways lined both sides of the passage; she tried all of them, and found them all locked.
She went on—looking for something, she didn’t know what. Somebody to keep her company, maybe, for however long she had left. She’d thought, once, that she would be double-damned and dipped in bubble-sauce if she would let herself die on Entibor—now she’d be happy if she didn’t have to die alone.
I wonder if Nannla will miss me. I’d like to have seen her again … .
She came to another intersection. Finally, she recognized familiar territory—a sub-basement corridor near the Domina’s shielded chamber. Nor was she alone any longer. In the hallway ahead, a shadow was moving against the red-lit stone. The silhouette was unmistakable: Nivome do’Evaan of Rolny.
Tillijen gripped her blaster and followed.
She followed the Minister of Internal Security down the passage to the door of Perada’s underground shelter. She saw that he was carrying something in the crook of his left arm—a square wooden box, large enough to contain an object the size of the Iron Crown. She’d never made it to the private chambers before the first energy strike hit; from the timing, Nivome must have gotten to them earlier than that. She wondered what had prompted him to fetch the crown.
He touched the lockplate outside the door of the shelter room. It slid open, and he entered. Somebody else was already inside with the Domina; Tillijen caught the sound of voices before the door shut again. She hastened to press her own hand against the lockplate and get into the room as well.
Perada was sitting in the chair-of-state, looking stubborn. She had the box containing the Iron Crown open on her lap. Nivome was looming over her, his expression dark with frustration; and behind the chair of state, his appearance as blandly inoffensive as ever, was the new Galcenian ambassador, Festen Aringher.
“Gentlesir Nivome,” Perada was saying, “Please believe that I appreciate your retrieval of the Iron Crown. But I don’t intend to take it off-planet. I plan to make one final holovid broadcast, and then get back to the evacuation. Every ship that lifts is a blow against the Mages, and I want to strike them as many times as I can before they kill me.”
“Your Dignity, there
are
no more ships that can lift!” Nivome said. “If we can make it to the field at An-Jemayne, we have a chance of making rendezvous with a courier landing from orbit. But only if we leave the palace now.”
are
no more ships that can lift!” Nivome said. “If we can make it to the field at An-Jemayne, we have a chance of making rendezvous with a courier landing from orbit. But only if we leave the palace now.”
“Much as it pains me to admit it,” Aringher cut in, “the minister is right. With a full-scale attack going on, no more carrier ships are going to enter the system. It’s time for you to go.”
“I can’t, Ambassador Aringher. Custom forbids it. No Domina has ever left Entibor.”
None of them had noticed Tillijen enter—they were too caught up in their fruitless argument. She moved closer, into Perada’s line of sight, and said, “They’re telling you the truth, ’Rada. You might as well order anybody who’s still waiting dirtside to take on all the warm bodies they can, then lift ship and run like hell for a jump point. And as far as custom goes … I say cut your braids and get out. For the kid, if you can’t think of another good reason.”
Perada said nothing for a while. Aringher looked calm and unconcerned, but Nivome’s heavy breathing was loud in the cramped room.
“Tilly,” the Domina said at last, “give me your knife.”
Tillijen pulled the knife out of her boot-top and handed it to Perada hilt-first. “Here you go, Your Dignity.”
“Thank you,” Perada said.
She took hold of a braid with one hand, pulled it taut, and began sawing at it with the knife. The ice-blond strands parted, leaving her with the braid still in her hand and a ragged clump of short hair on one side of her face. Working in silence, she cut off all the remaining braids as well, one at a time, until she had a handful of plaited yellow hair and a cropped head. She dropped the braids onto the floor and handed Tillijen back the knife.
“There,” she said. “It’s done. We can go.”
Warhammer
came out of hyper in Entiboran nearspace, and the cockpit console lit up with lights and alarms.
came out of hyper in Entiboran nearspace, and the cockpit console lit up with lights and alarms.
“Trouble,” said Jos. “Looks like a bunch of Mages got busy while we were chewing their friends into little pieces over in the Web. Errec, fire up the message loop and start broadcasting it wideband, in the clear. That should discourage them a little.”
Errec shook his head. “I don’t think so … . Jos, we’ve got to hurry. Something bad is about to happen.”
Jos glanced over at his copilot. Errec hadn’t sounded like that since the time back in the old days when they’d taken a Magebuilt cargo ship with a hold full of looted junk from some place on Ilarna—he’d sorted through the entire load, almost, without losing it, then picked up a cheap souvenir paperweight and gone so pale he looked green. He looked worse now.
“Mage stuff?” Jos asked.
Errec nodded. “You can’t imagine what it looks like … the auras in space …”
“I don’t think I want to imagine it,” Jos said. “Get that general message going anyway. I’ll start talking to the Fleet.”
He keyed on the external comm link. “Any station this net, any station this net, this is Entiboran Fleet Ship
Warhammer
, over.”
Warhammer
, over.”
The audio pickup popped and crackled. “Jos, that you?”
“Who’s this?”
“Tres Brehant. Glad to see you. Are the rest of the guys going to be dropping out soon?”
“That’s a negat,” Jos said. “I’m carrying news only. We met the Mages off Pleyver, and we won.”
“If you didn’t bring reinforcements, General, we’re out of luck right here. The local Mage raiders just got a lot more ships—they’re hitting targets all over the planet.”
“What the hell have you been doing?” Jos demanded.
More crackles and pops from the audio pickup. “The best I can. Doesn’t help that I’ve got to run an evacuation at the same time.”
“Lords of Life! What for?”
“Domina’s orders. ‘Lift everybody you can,’ she says, and we’ve been pulling in merches and couriers and passenger liners and running them up to the jump points for the past ten days.”
Jos felt his gut clench. “
Something bad
,”
Errec said
… . “Is Perada with you, then?”
Something bad
,”
Errec said
… . “Is Perada with you, then?”
“Negative.”
Errec spoke up again from the other seat. “She has to be. The auras are shifting … the working is almost finished. If she stays on-planet, she’s dead.”
Jos glanced over at Errec—the copilot looked even worse than he had before. “What do you mean, ‘the working’?”
“Circle on Circle of Mages,” Errec said. “A thousand, a hundred thousand … who knows how many they could bring together for something like this? All of them giving up their energies to show what happens to planets that resist.”
No
… “Tres, where
is
’Rada?”
… “Tres, where
is
’Rada?”
“At the Summer Palace, coordinating the evacuation on the dirtside end.”
“Conditions there?”
“Bad. Major fires and energy releases.”
“Get what ships you can spare and clear me a way down. I’m going to get her away.”
(GALCENIAN DATING 972 A.F.; ENTIBORAN REGNAL YEAR 36 VERATINA)
W
ARHAMMER
HUNG dead in space off Ferianth, a cold and barely inhabited planet at the edge of the starless gap between the civilized galaxy and the home worlds of the Magelords. A Magebuilt merchant ship lay broken under the ’
Hammer
’s guns, a raw-edged hole torn in the vessel’s side, the external plating peeled outward where atmosphere had spilled into the hungry dark. The ship’s engines were gone as well, a jagged bite taken from the edge of the ship where under normal circumstances tubes would glow.
ARHAMMER
HUNG dead in space off Ferianth, a cold and barely inhabited planet at the edge of the starless gap between the civilized galaxy and the home worlds of the Magelords. A Magebuilt merchant ship lay broken under the ’
Hammer
’s guns, a raw-edged hole torn in the vessel’s side, the external plating peeled outward where atmosphere had spilled into the hungry dark. The ship’s engines were gone as well, a jagged bite taken from the edge of the ship where under normal circumstances tubes would glow.
The merchant ship spun slowly around its longitudinal axis.
Warhammer
moved with it, keeping position relative to the gap in the merch’s hull through which the boarding party had entered. To Jos Metadi, at the controls in the ’
Hammer
’s cockpit, the Magebuilt ship seemed to hang suspended over his own smaller vessel, the hole in its side looming large in the viewscreens.
Warhammer
moved with it, keeping position relative to the gap in the merch’s hull through which the boarding party had entered. To Jos Metadi, at the controls in the ’
Hammer
’s cockpit, the Magebuilt ship seemed to hang suspended over his own smaller vessel, the hole in its side looming large in the viewscreens.
The external comm link crackled and came to life. “Stores compartment in view,” Rak Barenslee said, from somewhere in the merch’s cargo hold. “Setting cutting-out charges.”
“Standing by,” Jos replied.
Light flashed in the ‘
Hammer
’s viewscreens, and part of the skin of the merchant peeled away. Jos’s hands played over the lateral controls, shifting
Warhammer
into a better position for shining powerful worklights into the new-made gap. The stark white glare showed a hold full of palletized cargo, griped to the merch’s deck. Rak’s tiny, pressure-suited figure stood next to one of the crates, where she would be fixing the explosive charges to break the cargo free and start it tumbling across the gap into
Warhammer
’s waiting hold. Like the crates themselves, she appeared to hang inverted relative to the ’
Hammer
’s viewscreens.
Hammer
’s viewscreens, and part of the skin of the merchant peeled away. Jos’s hands played over the lateral controls, shifting
Warhammer
into a better position for shining powerful worklights into the new-made gap. The stark white glare showed a hold full of palletized cargo, griped to the merch’s deck. Rak’s tiny, pressure-suited figure stood next to one of the crates, where she would be fixing the explosive charges to break the cargo free and start it tumbling across the gap into
Warhammer
’s waiting hold. Like the crates themselves, she appeared to hang inverted relative to the ’
Hammer
’s viewscreens.
“Here it is,” she said over the speaker. “Looks like some prime stuff. I’m ready to transfer if you are.”
“Rotating to position,” Jos said. He touched the controls again, bringing
Warhammer
around so that the ship’s lower hatch faced the opening in the merch’s hull, and hit the internal comms. “Stand by in compartment one. Opening to vacuum in five, four, three, two, now.”
Warhammer
around so that the ship’s lower hatch faced the opening in the merch’s hull, and hit the internal comms. “Stand by in compartment one. Opening to vacuum in five, four, three, two, now.”
He made the switch. A faint shudder ran through the deckplates as the outer doors slid open.
“Got you on visual, compartment one,” Rak said. “Standing by to transfer cargo.”
Jos spoke over both the internal and external comm circuits. “Stand by, commence transfer.”
“Transfer, now,” Rak said. “That’s a lift.”
On the external pickups Jos saw a flash in the merch’s hold. A square-edged mass broke free and began moving in the ’
Hammer
’s direction.
Hammer
’s direction.
“Captain,” said Errec Ransome, from the copilot’s seat. “Extraneous signal. Possibly a dropout.” The Ilarnan paused. “There’s no ID yet, but I think it’s Mages.”
“How far?”
“Wait—two more drops.”
“Better speed it up down there,” Metadi said over the internal comms. “We may have to boost in a hurry.”
A heavy thud vibrated through the strength members of the ’
Hammer
’s frame as the first load of booty landed in the cargo compartment. Almost at the same time, there was another flash of light from the hold of the merch.
Hammer
’s frame as the first load of booty landed in the cargo compartment. Almost at the same time, there was another flash of light from the hold of the merch.
Rak’s voice came over the external comm link. “Second load away.”
“Errec,” Jos said. “How far off are those contacts?”
“Distance, near. We’re getting sensor data now. Signature consistent with Mage warships.”
Jos picked up the external link. “Boarding party, return to the ship.”
“One more load, Captain,” Rak said. “I think I found something good.”
*Load one secure,* rumbled Ferrda over the link from number-one compartment. *Standing by for load two.*
“Load two’s on the way over,” Jos said. “Load three is the last, and the boarding party’s coming along after. Let me know when they’re back with us—we need to get out of here before the bad guys show up.”
*Three loads aye,* said Ferrda, and Rak’s voice chimed in from the hold of the merch, “Third load away.”
Jos thought that the last word cut off abruptly. A trick of the other ship’s interior structure, maybe, blocking transmissions as Rak moved about. Then the ’
Hammer
’s external comm crackled again. This time it was Tilly.
Hammer
’s external comm crackled again. This time it was Tilly.
“We’ve got a problem, Captain. Rak’s hurt.”
“Captain,” Errec said from the navigator’s seat. “Those warships—”
“Get Rak out of there and get back yourself,” Jos said over the external comm. “Do it now.”
“Mages, definite,” said Errec. “I think they’ve located us. I’m picking up ranging beams directed at this location.”
“Maybe they’re looking for the merch and don’t know we’re here.” Jos knew he was indulging in wishful thinking, but he couldn’t help it. “Tilly—can you hurry it up a bit?”
The second load of cargo arrived with a thump as he spoke. *Load two aboard,* Ferrda reported. *Waiting for three.*
“There isn’t going to be a third load,” Jos said. “Get ready to bring in the boarding party. Tilly, what’s your status over there?”
“Not good, Captain. The damned Mages booby-trapped that last crate. Rak’s trapped—she’s jammed between the bulkhead and some of the cargo.”
“Keep trying. Errec—”
“The Mages have got us located,” said the Ilarnan. “They’ve switched to fire control.”
Metadi hit the internal comms. “Nannla, take number-one gun. Ferrda—the engines. The boarding party will have to close up by themselves after they come over.” He switched again to the external link. “Tilly, how’s it coming?”
“I’m working as fast as I can,” she said. “But it’s like trying to untangle a whynot’s nest—if I pull the wrong thing I’ve lost her for good.”
“I’ll suit up and come help you,” Jos said. He was unstrapping his safety webbing as he spoke. “The two of us can handle it, no problem.”
Errec spoke up again from the navigator’s seat. “Jos, I don’t think we have the time. The Mages are on their way—they’ll be in firing range within two minutes.”
The guns on the ’
Hammer
’s dorsal turret began to fire, sending out brilliant stabs of light.
Hammer
’s dorsal turret began to fire, sending out brilliant stabs of light.
“Jos.” Rak’s voice, faint and crackling, came over the external comm. “Are you under attack?”
“The shields will take it. Hold on—I’m coming over.”
“No. If you stay here, they’ll kill all of us. You have to take the ’
Hammer
and pull them away. I can hang on until you make it back.”
Hammer
and pull them away. I can hang on until you make it back.”
“She’s right, Jos,” said Errec. “We have to leave.”
Jos clenched his fist and swore under his breath. As he strapped back into the webbing of the pilot’s seat, he could hear Tilly and Rak arguing.
“Tilly, go across.”
“I can’t—”
“I’m still in charge over here. You do what I say.” Rak’s voice changed pitch and volume, the better to carry over the link to the ship. “
Warhammer
, one to transfer.”
Warhammer
, one to transfer.”
A spray of light burst around
Warhammer
as the Mage ships got into range and began firing. The power-drain indicator on the shield panel flickered.
Warhammer
as the Mage ships got into range and began firing. The power-drain indicator on the shield panel flickered.
“Jos,” said Errec, “I recommend that you take evasive action
now
.”
now
.”
The ’
Hammer
’s dorsal gun was firing continuously. The internal comm link clicked on. It was Tilly, her voice sounding tight and unhappy. “I’m across.”
Hammer
’s dorsal gun was firing continuously. The internal comm link clicked on. It was Tilly, her voice sounding tight and unhappy. “I’m across.”
“Seal the doors and go take your gun,” Jos said. He picked up the external comm. “Rak, hang on. We’ll be back.”
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about the Mages. Go!”
Jos put the ’
Hammer
’s realspace engines hard forward and darted around to the far side of the merchant craft. The merch dwindled away astern over the
Hammer
’s aft viewscreen.
Hammer
’s realspace engines hard forward and darted around to the far side of the merchant craft. The merch dwindled away astern over the
Hammer
’s aft viewscreen.
Errec was watching the readouts. “Losing pressure in upper stores, losing pressure in engineering. The warships are still on our tail.”
“Good,” Jos said, tight-lipped. “That’s exactly where I want them.”
It took two days for Jos to fight the Mages to their destruction, in the cold dark beyond Ferianth. By the time he got back to the merch it was too late for Rak Barenslee. Though she’d been right again. This was a particularly rich load.
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