Shattered Soul (28 page)

“How comforting.” She wiped her black-blood gored hand on her split skirt with a grimace.

“Sister,” Ethmor rumbled.

Rani scowled at him. “I have a sister, beast, and I am
her
sister, not yours.”

Ethmor just smiled, sharp teeth gleaming, tusks tossing slightly as it moved its head.

“And where is your sister now, Rani?” Phemar’s voice hissed through the heat-laden air.

Slowly she turned to look at him. “Safe.”

“Is she? Is she really?” He laughed, low and hissing, his eyes gleaming orange.

“Phemar.” Fredrico’s voice was low with warning.

Rani looked down to see Fredrico and Veknor standing side by side. Behind them reared huge demons, as big as Ethmor and just as damned ugly. Dangerous and demonic and out for anyone’s blood who would dare to hurt their charges.

It was Fredrico to whom she looked. His eyes, so cold a blue, were trained on Phemar.

“Come, the warrior needs to know, does she not?” Phemar looked at Rani.

“Her sister is safe, that is all she needs to know.”

“She’s safe.” Rani said it with more conviction, feeling the assurance deep inside herself. The soft glow. The knowing.

“Do you not wonder,” Phemar continued, “how she escaped the ice? She was frozen with you, warrior. Side by side, sister beside sister. She was frozen in the split second of knowing that you were mortally wounded.”

“Phemar!” Fredrico snarled.

Rani held still. “Ceri is safe.”

“Ceri was left in the ice when you were taken. That’s right, Rani. You were taken from your sister’s side and she was left there. Left to die.”

“You’re a liar as well as a walking corpse,” Rani replied more calmly than she felt.

“Look, warri CLre a lor. Look and see for yourself.” He swept his hand out.

The fire faded, eclipsed by a wavering darkness that lightened enough to show her ice and a cave, and she knew immediately who was encased in the ice.

“Damn it, Phemar!” Fury thrummed in Fredrico’s voice.

Just as she knew who entered the ice, who looked at the figures, who cut the ice, who took her away.

Who left her sister to die in the melting ice.

“No...” she whispered.

“Yes, warrior.” Phemar’s words were mocking. “Betrayers are everywhere, and you now have to trust those who betrayed you. You have to live with them. With us.”

A pulse beat at Rani’s temple. Ceri’s safe. I know she is.

“The ice melted from your beloved sister while you were taken away.” Phemar chuckled in wet, cruel amusement. “And the ones you have to trust now, us, we did it.”

Fury beat inside her, made her pulse thud harder, and she felt the darkness bubbling inside her as she looked at Phemar. “She’s safe.”

“In all probability.” He shrugged carelessly, bits of rotting flesh falling from beneath his tattered, dirty gown.

“Why are you telling me this?” She looked back at the ice sculpture of her sister.

“I just want you to know that those you have to trust are those who betrayed you at one time. Betrayed you with the one you love even above your own life.”

::She’s safe:: The words whispered through her.

Yes, Ceri was safe. Somehow, she survived. But first she’d been left to die. Fury washed up through Rani. She hadn’t even thought how her sister had escaped, how she’d survived. She’d just known she had, against all odds, survived.

No thanks to those Rani was now forced to trust. If she could trust them.

Ethmor growled low and deep as Rani turned away from the wavering vision to face Phemar. “I know I can’t trust you, Phemar, so why this?”

“Just a little amusement.” The smile was in his voice. “Just for me. For my pleasure. After all, doesn’t one deserve a little amusement now and again?” His chuckle was phlegm filled.

An eerie calm swept through Rani. “You bastard,” she said softly. “You get your jollies by hurting others.”

“Phemar!” Fredrico snapped. “Enough!”

Rani’s gaze dropped to Fredrico. “You left my sister to die.”

His gaze was stark. “It was my job to get you.”

“You left her to die.”

“My, Fredrico, the warrior is angry.” Phemar laughed.

The darkness inside Rani boiled higher. “You laugh at death, at pain, at torture, at anything to make someone hurt, don’t you, Phemar?”

His hooded head angled as he replied musingly, “It is among my more favourite pastimes.”

Veknor moved up beside Fredrico. “Phemar, be careful.”

“Careful? Of this warrior, this mortal?” Phemar hissed low and long. “There is never a day I fear this wretch.” He sneered. “Can’t you take a little enlightenment without losing your temper, Rani?”

The fury was CTheou filling her, boiling up, bubbling with malevolence and intent and full rage, even as she kept her face so carefully blank. Even as the power inside her built up, filling her, slivers of darkness surging through her veins.

Ethmor shifted its hand slightly beneath her, its fingers starting to curl inwards, but she cast it one glance and it stopped, its eyes fastened to hers, and Ethmor continued to watch her as she turned back to Phemar.

“My sister is safe,” she said tightly. “That is all I need to know.” She kept a rigid hold on her emotions, refusing to look again at Fredrico.

The man who’d said she could trust him, the one who’d committed the worst betrayal.

“All you need to know?” Hot, orange smoke swirled around the hem of Phemar’s robe as he paced in the air in front of her, his hands behind his back. “Do you think you’re the first of your kind that I’ve tried to turn to our side?”

“Phemar!” Veknor was furious, for once his dark eyes showing emotion. “You push this too far! It’s too dangerous!”

Rani ignored them. “You lie.”

“Do I?” Suddenly he was right before her, his hand reaching out and all that filthy, rotting flesh was on her head. He moved so fast she didn’t have time to flinch away. “Look into my eyes, Rani.” He yanked back his hood, baring his head, half skull, half rotting flesh, maggots falling from gaping wounds, maggots winding through the bones where his nose should have been, his tongue a blackened, ruined husk flapping in the gaping holes of his cheeks, the yellow gleam of his mandible still holding strips of rotting flesh.

But his eyes were burning, orange orbs, shining with malevolence and hatred, cruelty and mysticism. Sucking her inwards, trapping her gaze, thrusting visions inside her head. So far inside, bursting through her head until she thought it would burst.

And Rani saw her, the tall, beautiful, cold-eyed warrior woman, she felt the kinship, was privy to her thoughts and emotions, and felt everything the Reeka warrior felt.

Rani was with her, unseen, walking by her side...

Back in Time…Reya

The desert was so hot, so sandy, every particle getting under the robes she wore to protect her skin from the hot rays. Looking at the shimmering heat waves, she grimaced. Wild red/gold curls were held back in a tight, confining braid, a concession to the heat, but the hot wind made stray tendrils dance against the high cheekbones.

Looking back at the mercenaries behind her, the Reeka grimaced inwardly. They all looked hot and dirty, all were irritable, and it wouldn’t take much for tempers to explode. Zadox, as usual, showed not much expression or emotion, his hawkish, brown-skinned face calm, his pale blue gaze steady. Zadox she would trust to watch her back, the other mercenaries... well, hell, she had to trust them to an extent.

Hot wind blew stinging grains of sand against her face and she grimaced. As soon as this assignment was over, she was heading back to the forests of Urion and she didn’t intend to leave them for several weeks. It would take that long to wash the grit from her hair and scrub the filth from her skin.

The mercenary beside her stopped suddenly. “That wind howling is driving me insane!”

She angled her h C and sead, listening intently, and a frown crossed her beautiful face. Something was wrong, the sound in the wind wasn’t normal. “Starn, that’s not the wind.” There came faint cries, horror-filled, agonizing, trailing through the air.

The mercenaries behind her stopped, their hard faces lifting in the sand-whipping wind as they, too, listened.

Cries and screams... “It’s the sound of agony.” She moved restlessly, a prickling skittering along her arms, and she gripped the laser in her hand tighter. “There’s something out there.” Her eyes narrowed against the glare of a merciless sun. “Something’s out there and getting closer.” The Reeka turned to the mercenary beside her. “Starn, get the commander.”

He hesitated. “What do you think is going on?”

“Move it!”

His lips thinned, not liking taking orders from the tall Reeka, but he did as bidden, turning and sliding down the sand dune to where the commander was bringing up the rear with more mercenaries.

A second mercenary, older and grizzled, with cruelty stamped across his face but wisdom in his eyes, moved up beside her, his hand curled around the butt of his laser. “What do you think it is?”

“Torture.” She took a deep breath, inhaling the hot wind, catching the scent of blood.

“Then we’ll just slay them all anyway.” Another mercenary spat in the dirt. “After we have a little fun with them. Men or women, I ain’t fussy.” He laughed coarsely.

The Reeka narrowed cold, pale green eyes on him. He tried to stare her down, failed, shifted his feet uneasily and looked away, muttering angrily to himself.

A roar rent the air and for several minutes they watched as the air in the distance shifted, wavered, something almost seeming to slip through the atmosphere.

“Bloody deserts, always playing tricks on a person.” The older mercenary grimaced. “Mirages. Bah!”

She continued to keep her head angled watching the wavering in the air, seeing it vanish and puzzling over what might have caused it. And then she became aware that something else had happened.

“Listen,” she said.

“What?” The young mercenary looked up. “I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s right. The screams have stopped.” Hand on the laser, she held it close to her booted leg under the robe, her gaze scanning the horizon.

Starn came up beside her. “The commander wants us to move forward.”

“Move forward?” She frowned, not liking it. Something felt really wrong. But she wasn’t the boss; she was a mercenary who obeyed orders, who worked for money to buy food and medical supplies for the survivors of her outlawed tribe. “Very well, pass on the order.” Grimacing, she wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow. The damned sand was so itchy.

They all moved forward, climbing the shifting sand hills. As usual, she was in the lead, Starn by her side, Vexa behind her, Zadox on her other side, the rest of the team following. It would have been better to scout ahead, send only one or two mercenaries, but as usual the commander wanted different. The fool never listened. It was the last time she’d take a job with him.

The wind dropped suddenly and everything was sil Cthitime sheent, an eerie silence that seemed so much a part of this cursed desert.

In fact, everything about this cursed mission was just that—cursed, if one believed in such things. The ship had dropped them in the desert to fulfil this mission, but then the carrier had broken down and they’d had to continue on foot, sleeping in snatches, pushing forward. Forever onward to find, fight and kill the cannibals who ruled the inner deserts of Ylan, holding the area hostage, the man-eaters who sometimes stole out into outlying areas to steal the odd citizen. Food on the foot. Time to hunt them down, exterminate them, and collect the huge reward being paid by the outlying district lords. Dinnos badly needed by her fellow sister-warriors.

She came to a stop and looked up at the burning sun. Everything was so still, too still. Around her she heard the breathing of the mercenaries, heard the odd swear word, a complaint, an impatient sound.

“What’s wrong?” Starn queried, his face anxious.

He was older than her and yet in so many ways he was much younger. Bloody experience would do that to a person. She looked down at him. “It’s still.”

“The wind has died down,” he replied.

“It’s too still.”

Vexa wiped his forearm across his face, his bronzed skin gleaming with sweat. “It’s not natural.”

“Cannibals aren’t natural,” another mercenary remarked. “We can’t be far off, going by those screams. They were probably cooking dinner.”

“Maybe they left us a bite to eat,” another added.

Laughter slithered amongst the mercenaries, cruel but low.

She ignored them, her senses alert. Something was wrong, she could feel it, and though never one to imagine things it unnerved her. Just as she knew it unnerved some of the other mercenaries as they listened intently.

Someone, or something, was out there. Out in the heat, the sun, the sand.

Something caught her eye, a spiral of smoke. Another, and then a third. Three spirals of smoke.

“I smell something,” Starn said. “Like meat cooking.”

“Dinner,” another mercenary said, but this time no one laughed.

They had to be close. Dropping to hands and knees she moved slowly, going up the sand dune. Behind and around her came the other mercenaries, their senses alert, their faces grim.

Vexa came up close beside her, his young face grim. She glanced at him, thinking that even though he was her age he seemed so much younger than seventeen.

Dismissing the thought as soon as it came, she held up one hand and the mercenaries stopped moving. She and Vexa continued on, slithering upward as they neared the top of the sand dune. On their bellies they moved, the hot, prickling sand getting under their clothes and rubbing their skin raw. Carefully they lifted their heads and peered over the top of the sand dune.