Jeanne G'Fellers - No Sister of Mine (29 page)

“Not here.” Krell looked toward the western horizon. “Belsas gave us this area because she wants me close to camp.”

“There might be something down there.” Firman leaned over the canyon edge, watching the bottom rage with muddy turbulence. Chills cascaded down his spine at the thought of LaRenna being washed away, unsteadying his stance until Tatra grabbed his arm, pulling him from the edge.

“Careful, you’ll slip.”

“Didn’t know you cared,” he crooned.

“I don’t.” She dropped her hand. “Just wanted to spare myself any unnecessary work.”

“When you two are through,” interrupted Krell before Firman could form a comeback, “I think we should look west.”

Firman consulted their map and shook his head. “That leads us outside the search parameters. Are you sure you want to cross Belsas?”

“LaRenna is in that direction. I’m sure of it.” Krell led the way across the rough terrain. The others followed, dedicated though reluctant, puzzled by her fixed sense of direction.

They walked due west of their starting point, circumventing large standing puddles and deep-mudded bandit beast wallows. Krell kept the lead, homing in on some invisible beacon. All thoughts faded from her mind save one—LaRenna. That one image forced Krell blindly onward. LaRenna was in pain and that’s all that mattered.

“Krell!” Firman pointed to the nearly set sun. “It’s getting late. We should return to camp.”

“No, I’m going on. It’ll take most of the morning to get this far again.”

“We’ll take a land launch.”

“It may be too muddy for touchdown. You saw how far the planetary launches sank when we landed.” Krell looked at the clouds stacking on the horizon. “I can’t leave. Take Tatra back if you want. I’m going to keep moving until it’s too dark to see.”

“We can’t leave you out here alone.” His jaw set in a stern lock. “Come back to camp and dry off. You’ll catch your death.”

“LaRenna already has.” Krell’s voice took an ominous tone that caused Firman to stare.

“How do you know she’s sick?” Tatra had heard most of the conversation and now drew close, hand returning to Firman’s arm as she listened. Full-sense telepathy between Taelach lovers wasn’t unheard of, but all recorded cases involved pairs who had been together for decades.

“I just do. She’s very ill, Tatra. Her chest hurts.” Krell drew a ragged breath. “Her foot too, but in a different way.”

Firman turned to the healer. “She for real?”

“I believe so,” whispered Tatra. “There aren’t many pairs who can phase like this. Where is she, Krell?”

“She’s asleep, and hot, so very hot.” Krell’s eyes rolled back.

“A fever.” Tatra’s nod confirmed Firman’s analysis.

“She still a prisoner?” queried Tatra.

“No, I don’t think she is.”

“She alone then?”

“No, someone she knows and trusts is caring for her.”

“Who?” pushed Tatra. “Who’s she with?”

“That’s all I can sense. I’m still too far away.” Krell’s eyes opened. “You two get back to camp. I’ll go it alone from here.”

“Are you kidding?” Firman’s hand pressed reassuringly into his sibling’s. “We haven’t come all this way to be scared by the dark. Have we, Tatra?”

“Nope.” She smiled up at them. “We’re not turning back now. Show us the way, Krell. We’ll follow you to her and help bring her back.”

The downpours continued through the evening and night, providing little relief to the search teams. All but Krell’s group returned at sunset, no one noticing the missing trio until Belsas called for their report.

Fearing that flash floods might have swept them away, a morning search was organized for the narrow canyon they had been assigned. Belsas knew Krell wouldn’t have taken her crew into danger so she assumed they had begun an independent search. Their punishment when they returned would be severe, decided Belsas, especially for Krell. How dare she not stay close when LaRenna’s body could be recovered at any time?

Things went no better for the independent threesome. They stopped when the rain became too fierce for movement, seeking refuge under a group of low shrubs. Firman and Tatra cuddled up for warmth as well as companionship, leaving Krell to think.

LaRenna’s mental presence was so vivid that they shared the same feverish dreams. The images came in waves, initially revolving around LaRenna’s family, friends, and childhood. Krell found these to be pleasant, insightful glances at LaRenna’s past. But as the night progressed and her fever rose, the mental pictures became disillusioned and increasingly violent. Surreal visions of the Creiloff twins’ depraved behavior pierced their shared nightmare until it twisted Krell into hysterical fury.

“Krell!” Firman shook his sibling. She was on her side, taut and wheezing against the cold ground. “Krell!” His second cry brought her screaming awake.

“What’s wrong?” Tatra rubbed her eyes.

“I’m not sure.” Firman comforted Krell as best he could, speaking quiet reassurances as she clutched the slick grass beneath her. “She’s scared near senseless.” He drew close to absorb the tremors wracking his sibling. “Is it LaRenna? Krell? Krell?”

“They took her.” Krell sobbed against him.

“Slow down.” Tatra took a position on Krell’s other side, her slender hand clasping Krell’s. “You’re hyperventilating. Slow breaths—one—two. That’s it.”

“Who took her?” Firman asked as Krell began to regain control. “Took her where?”

“The bar on Langus. The Creiloff twins. Cance’s scratches.” Words couldn’t describe the horror Krell was feeling—LaRenna’s horror. No wonder LaRenna had been reluctant to look up when they had spoken. She had been ashamed of something totally beyond her control.

“They raped her,” grieved Tatra, close to terror herself. “It must have happened on Langus before we escaped.”

Krell could only nod. “I could feel her fighting. They forced her at the same time. Tortured her, drugged her, procked her, tied her to the counter. I could see it through her eyes—feel the pain. She wished they would kill her so it would stop.”

“But they didn’t.” Firman pulled Krell to his shoulder. “You couldn’t have stopped it, Krelleesha. There was no way you could have known.”

“I could have prevented it from happening at all.” She collapsed into his embrace. “Brandoff followed her the morning we met on the beach. She watched us. I thought I saw someone on the pathway, but dismissed it as stress. I should have stopped her from going back.”

“Could haves and should haves aren’t important at this point,” said Tatra. “All that matters is that you understand what she experienced and that you help her get past it.”

“How could I not? I feel I suffered with her.” Krell still shook. “They ravaged her, took everything she was, and all she could think about was how it would hurt me. She cried for me. Prayed for me. Screamed for me! And I wasn’t there!” Krell’s voice rose as the angst began to twist once more.

“Don’t work yourself up again.” Firman tightened his hold. “Stay near me. If you have another episode like that, I want you to be close enough so I can knock it out of you.”

Unable to complain, Krell relaxed against him, quickly falling into the same dreamless sleep as LaRenna. Firman chuckled as his sister began to snore.

“She still snores.”

“And hogs the bed.” Tatra looked about for a dry piece of ground. “Where do I sleep now?”

“I snore, too. Gotta problem with that?” Firman extended his arm. “Come on. I have room for one more.” She accepted his offer and soon both Taelachs were sleeping soundly against him. “Look at you,” he sighed, his chin resting against Tatra’s flaxen hair. “Two women and no one about to brag to. You’re getting soft in your old age, Firman Middle.”

In the Hiding Cave, Trazar held his own sister in much the same way. He cooled her face with damp cloths, trying to calm the scourging memories that penetrated her delirium. She became restless and irritated, fighting against him as he removed her blankets to help combat the fever.

LaRenna howled and moaned for Krell, begging her to make “them” stop hurting her. The pleading proved so sorrowful it made Trazar mindful of the fact his sister might not fully recover from her assault, physically or mentally. “You’ve been through more in the last quarter-cycle than one person should endure in a lifetime.” He wiped down her brow again. “But you’re strong, LaRenna, so keep fighting.”

Eventually, her nightmares ended, allowing her to drift into a deep slumber. Trazar placed a fresh cloth on her head then went to the cave entrance to replace the nearly extinguished marker lights. “I don’t know why I bother,” he grumbled while spacing the fresh rods. “They probably aren’t visible more than ten or twelve paces in this fool rain.”

The rampant canyon flood was audible in the cave mouth. Staring through the darkness, Trazar was positive the launch had washed downstream any number of kilometers. That alone reduced their chances of discovery. Now their rescuers would have to search the entire flood path for them. Trazar prayed they wouldn’t be assumed drowned and the search abandoned.

“Trazar!” LaRenna’s weak voice brought him running to her side. He laid her back on the bedroll and replaced the cloth on her red-hot face. “I woke up and you weren’t here and—”

“I was changing the marker lights,” he soothed, aware her fears were being fed by her fever.

“Still raining?” She reached for the water bottle he had placed beside her.

“Yes.” Trazar took it, cradled her neck, and held it to her mouth. “Drink. It’s good for the fever.” She swallowed several times then gagged, fighting to inhale against the pain.

“When won’t my damn ribs hurt anymore?” She gasped when the air returned.

“Soon. Try to sleep.” He retrieved an unused bedroll and spread it beside hers, LaRenna watching silently from her angled headrest. She had so much she wanted to share with Trazar, but conversation was just too difficult.

Trazar covered up and lay facing her. “You’ll be okay. They’ll find us tomorrow. Wait and see.” LaRenna smiled and reached out to him. He clasped her hand and curled his fingers around hers.

“Please tomorrow,” she whispered, “ ’cause I’m so tired.”

Raw and hard the wind does blow

Bleak into the caves

The springtime floods they wash away

The ones the Autlach slays

—Taelach poetry

“First an entire team goes rogue, now this!” Belsas puzzled over the two bodies lying underneath the awning of the morgue tent. She knew they had been part of a recovery team but not the circumstances of their deaths. “What happened?”

Chandrey gave a cheerless look to the cadet who had recovered the bodies from one of the flooded canyons. “They drowned, didn’t they?”

“No ma’am,” replied the flare-jawed young guardian. “This one’s skull had been crushed.” The cadet indicated one of the shrouded bodies. “The other one has a broken neck. They were dead before they hit the water.”

“Is it possible they were caught in a landslide?” asked Chandrey.

The cadet pointed to the boot toe not covered by the shrouds. “There’s no mud, dirt, rocks, or anything else matted into their clothes. No other pre-death injuries we could detect. There would have been if they’d been caught in a slide.”

“In other words,” said Belsas, “you believe they met with foul play?”

“It appears so, Grandmaster.”

“And one sister from the party is still missing?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re dismissed.” Belsas moved to stand beside Chandrey. “Murder on a recovery operation? Chandrey, I swear if—”

“Grandmaster Belsas?” The cadet scrambled back to where they stood. “Another thing you might find interesting.”

“That is?”

“One of them was found without her boots and leggings.”

Chandrey waited until the cadet shuffled off a second time then turned to Belsas, astonished. “Without clothes?”

“Odd.” Belsas considered the two dead Taelachs, edging back one shroud then the other for analysis. “Very odd indeed. What would someone want with boots and leggings from a dead sister?”

“Could they have washed off in the flood?” asked Chandrey.

“It’s possible,” replied Belsas. “In fact, it’s probably what happened.” The morning breezes tugged at the back of their cloaks, flicking off some of the water that had collected along the hemlines. Scents of fresh tea and hot bread mingled in the air, prompting their stomachs into growls of discontent.

“Too little dinner the night before makes the gut angry in the morn.” Chandrey placed a hand over her stomach. It growled even louder.

“I don’t think you’ll quiet it by any means except filling it.” Belsas chuckled. “You haven’t eaten enough as of late.”

“I haven’t had the spirit,” she replied after a moment’s silence.

“It’s not the spirit that requires food, my dear. It’s the body.” Belsas took her by the arm and led the way to the cook tent.

“The spirit needs nourishment, too,” said Chandrey as they walked. “Mine’s been starving.”