Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) (31 page)

Xander glanced at the two Night Gen standing behind him, halfway between the door and the sunken crew stations above which he stood.

“Perhaps it is the company.”

“I respect your desire for privacy,” said Thurif, “but we can’t have another outburst. Our Night Gen friends are here for everyone’s protection.”

“I was talking about your sickening face. You healed Damus. Are you immune to your own power?”

A smile split the traitor’s waxy lips. “Why bow to arbitrary standards of beauty when I can conform the world to mine?”

“Is that what this
great work
of yours is about—compensating for an ugly face and soul?”

“We are both outcasts,” Thurif said. “Would you not go to any length to change your father’s verdict?”

Suppressing his anger left Xander’s voice emotionless. “My father is dead.”

“That will be no detriment if I achieve my aims.”

“Liar!” Xander’s fist struck the rail encircling the crew station. The uniformed steersman gave him a reproachful backward glance. “You speak madness!”

Thurif raised his eyes to the image on the wall. “Not if others may follow in Shaiel and Thera’s footsteps.”

Xander was about to rush forward and throttle the heathen when Tefler entered the room.

“The noble Lawbringer graces us with his presence,” Thurif said. “Congratulations on your patient’s recovery.”

Tefler waved off the compliment. “You were right. There aren’t many problems elemental fire can’t solve. The tough part was getting her armor off.”

Xander’s eyes narrowed. “You saw her unclothed?”

“I’m an armorer,” Tefler said. “That practically makes me her physician.”

Xander folded his arms and gave the priest a sullen glare.

“The souldancers have joined the expedition?” Thurif asked.

Tefler nodded. “They’re at the vault by now.”

“Well done. You should heed his example of good service, Master Sykes.”

“He only serves because you hold our friends hostage,” Xander said.

Thurif gestured at the moving image. “On the contrary, Miss Tremore is free of her cell and shall be free of my service when her task is done. As for the stalwart cook, he convalesces in the infirmary.”

“No he doesn’t,” Tefler said.

Thurif’s mangled face fell. “I beg your pardon?”

“Whatever fire can’t solve, prana can.”

Cook burst through the doors before they fully opened. A lone greycloak chased after him—one who’d deserted willingly, to judge by his unmarred face.

Cook leapt back from his assailant’s grey scimitar to land below the Wheel. He winked at Xander, who still stood on the edge of the pit, before wading into the stunned crewmen at their stations. The steersman gaped at the brawl raging below him.

A babble of conflicting orders arose from Thurif and the officers at the front of the bridge. The greycloak stalked toward the crew pit, glowering at Cook, but Tefler tackled him.

Xander saw his chance. He leapt from the rim of the crew pit, and his feet landed on the edge of the Wheel. The steersman turned as the door opened on two more Cadrisian crewmen who joined the Night Gen already advancing on the Wheel.

Astlin’s borrowed knowledge asserted itself. Still off-balance, Xander threw himself into the steersman. The man gave a shrill cry as he flipped over the railing and fell into the crew pit.

I hope you remembered rightly,
Xander thought as he stomped on a glass plate covering a red switch. The cover broke, the switch engaged, and Xander felt emergency Workings extend his senses over the ship.

Linking to the Wheel nearly distracted Xander from the bloody-faced crewman who reached up from below and grabbed his ankle. The Night Gen reached the lip of the crew pit, and the two Cadrisians followed close behind.

Xander willed the
Exarch
into a sharp and sudden climb. The deck became a sheer smooth slope. Everyone lurched backward, but the Night Gen fell into their Cadrisian escort, and all four men tumbled through the door which now opened on a long, near vertical drop. Only the Cadrisians screamed.

The injured crewman kept his hold on Xander’s legs but lost his own footing. He toppled back into the crew pit and yanked Xander from the Wheel. With no pilot, the ship’s nose swung downward.

Xander spent a horrible weightless moment anticipating a crash. Free of the Night Gen, he wrapped himself in his shield. But he’d left the drifters engaged, and the descent came to a jarring halt with the ship’s keel floating even.

Lying in the crew pit atop a knot of groaning Cadrisians, Xander checked himself for injuries. He was relieved to find only a few bruises.

Cook crawled into view from the other side of the Wheel, also looking remarkably unharmed. He managed a feeble grin.

“Nice flying. Don’t ever do that again.”

Xander nodded dumbly.

Cook knitted his brow. “Have you seen Tefler?”

Both of them rose to their feet. Xander cast about the room and sighed in relief when he saw Tefler sitting against the wall beside the door, holding his head.

Xander’s sigh of relief became a cry of alarm when a black-robed figure lurched from the front of the bridge and bolted for the exit.

“Stop him!”

Still stunned from the impact, Tefler regained his feet a moment after Thurif fled through the door. Xander and Cook sprang from the crew pit to give chase.

Hellish cold enveloped Xander. The mad whispers from earlier returned, along with creeping numbness. A shadow stretched from his feet to the bared sword of the greycloak, who stood blocking the doorway.

Blinding light banished the lethal chill. Xander’s sight returned as Tefler wrenched the grey sword from the dazed Lawbringer’s hand.

“I am done with jailers,” Xander said. His will roared, sending the greycloak hurtling sideways. The Lawbringer struck the wall with a crunching thud and lay motionless.

The lone conscious officer tried to dash past Cook, who caught the man and redirected him into the crew pit rail. His head struck the bar with a loud clang, and his limp form crumpled to the deck.

Cook surveyed the bridge, where only he and his friends still moved.

“We’re getting better at this.”

“Yeah,” Tefler said. “We did way more damage this time.”

Xander faced the strange-eyed priest. “Will you help me catch Thurif, or have you gone the way of Damus?”

Tefler tossed the Lawbringer’s blade aside. “I think my opinion of Thurif is clear, and I’m a little hurt you thought I’d join him.”

“I will apologize later,” Xander said on his way out the door.

Astlin stood on the sand below a looming canyon wall with a door set in its face. The spiraling panels reminded her of a seashell in cross-section—ironic since the Fire had consumed the sea.

Like everyone in the expedition, Astlin was staring at small man leaning against the huge door. He wore baggy brown clothes, and his face looked vaguely lizardlike.

“You there,” said Damus, “kindly move aside. We’re on a tight schedule.”

The stranger’s eyes were shut as if he were dozing. Astlin expected them to be yellow like a cat’s, but the lids opened on irises as grey as Salorien’s sky.

“You’re late,” the little man said in a nasal voice.

Damus made a shooing motion. “Yes. We’re quite pressed for time. So just move along.”

“Th’ix judges rightly,” a stern male voice called from around the canyon’s leftward bend.

“
This
what?” Zan asked with a puzzled look at Astlin.

A man in a weathered green cloak strode into view and stopped before the door. Astlin found his face and greying sandy hair familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him.

He nodded to Damus. “You are long missed in Avalon.”

“I thought I recognized that imp,” said Damus. “One can’t blame him betraying Philedonius for Nakvin. But you, a priest of Midras, consorting with fiends?”

The priest showed no emotion as he looked over the large gathering. “You consort with worse, and betray your queen in the bargain.”

“You’ve no power to judge me. In case you haven’t noticed, your god is gone. These men serve a new one.”

“Piteous fools who bow to a base charlatan.”

“Surely you esteem my friends higher than that.” Damus gestured to Astlin, Megido, Zan, and the ice block they’d hauled in from the drop site. “Among them stand these rare and potent souldancers.”

The priest’s already dour face darkened. “I know their kind. Your pride is founded on nothing more than these? I count myself disappointed.”

Damus’ brow creased, but his eyes gleamed. “You didn’t climb back out of hell to scold me. Just what are you up to?”

“If I am unmeet to question you, the reverse holds also.”

“Well argued, Prefect,” Damus quipped. “Now that we’ve settled our jurisdictional dispute, lend a hand or give way.”

The priest’s smile—a mirthless flash of teeth through his beard—disturbed Astlin more than his sullen gloom. He stepped clear of the door. Th’ix followed at a languid pace.

“Set up camp,” Damus ordered the
Exarch
crew. They sprang into motion with a flurry of tarps and metal poles.

Damus motioned to the faceless greycloaks, who lowered their hands in mechanical unison. The sallow light faded from Irallel’s icy cage.

To her surprise, Damus pointed at Astlin. “Melt that block.”

“Me?”

“I’m sorry,” said Damus. “Is there another red-headed Kethan dressed like a bell foundress? If you’re not the one who breathes fire, please find her because I can’t wait all day.”

“Don’t free the bronze lady,” Zan pleaded.

Megido hid behind a drifter pallet loaded with crates.

Astlin faced Damus. “Irallel’s insane.”

“So are you.”

“She’ll try to kill me.”

Damus stroked his chin. “Good point. Everyone fall back.”

Zan and Megido exchanged reluctant looks with Astlin before turning away.

“You two stay right where you are,” Damus ordered. To Astlin he said, “Remember. Thurif is watching
closely
.”

Astlin approached the ice block as if it were a sleeping lion. Though the figure trapped within was motionless, its green eyes shone with cruel glee.

Heaving a sigh took conscious effort, but Astlin felt it was justified. She glanced back at the group, who’d taken shelter beneath an outcropping. The grim priest stood impassively by. She considered reading his mind, but her conscience warned against it.

There’s no Fire; only me.

Astlin faced her frozen enemy and unlocked the gates of her soul. The air around her shimmered.

Out of the corner of her eye Astlin saw the
Exarch
, still floating high over the landing site, rear up like a frightened horse. Its blocky nose went almost vertical before free falling back down. The drifters prevented a crash, but that didn’t rule out damage or injuries.

Astlin stared at the idle ship and hoped that Xander and her friends were safe. The navy men’s frantic sendings to the
Exarch
merged into meaningless noise. Her concern turned to fear as minutes passed with no sign of life from above.

A shrill scream cut through the sky and shocked everyone to silence. Someone was falling from a lift hatch with no air column to slow his descent. Astlin watched the man’s black robes flutter like broken crow’s wings until he vanished behind the rocky outcrop. A sharp thud echoed from the canyon walls.

Xander had hoped that dropping Thurif from the cargo hold would quell his rage, but his thirst for vengeance burned hotter than ever. He reactivated the lift and descended with Tefler and Cook into the canyon.

The drop site occupied a sandy basin where the furrowed rock walls widened. Besides the three new arrivals who searched among the clustered crates, nothing moved.

“Over here!” Tefler soon shouted from behind a stack of plastic boxes.

Xander found the priest standing just beyond an irregular patch of red sand. A motionless black-robed figure lay facedown at its center.

Xander took in the sight with a complex flood of emotions. “Is he dead?”

Tefler grimaced. “He’d better hope so.”

Cook rejoined them. Surprisingly light footsteps carried him over the sand to Thurif’s side. He knelt down and examined the broken body.

“No respiration and no pulse.”

Thurif’s treason is avenged,
Xander thought. His satisfaction was almost worth spending time as a hostage, but it still lacked something.

Xander led his friends to where the canyon narrowed. They rounded a corner and found the landing party huddled beneath an overhang.

And Xander found what he was missing.

“Damus!”

The Gen’s eyes bulged when he saw the three newcomers. He opened his mouth, but Xander’s will choked off his words and lifted him from the ground.

“God taught men speech so we could petition him,” Xander said as he approached the dangling Gen. “Ask him to save you now.”

The only answer was a chorus of popping sounds.

Cook’s strong hand rested on Xander’s shoulder. “Don’t do this.”

Xander pushed his friend’s arm away as several Cadrisians gathered nearby trained their guns on him. A watery groan escaped Damus’ throat. He hemorrhaged from mouth, nose, and ears.

Astlin’s armor chimed as she positioned herself between Xander and the firing squad.

“Xander,” she said softly, “let him go.”

“You plead for Damus? He hates you!”

“He has good reasons. More than you know.”

“I know all I need to.”

“The Guild took his daughter,” said Astlin. “He hoped the souldancer in the Tower Graves was her. I crushed that hope.”

Hate sustained Xander’s will. “That is no cause for betrayal.”

“No. It isn’t,” Astlin said. “And it’s no reason to kill him.”

“I have others.”

Damus convulsed. A red stain spread upon the sand beneath him.

“I’d give anything for a chance to undo what I’ve done,” said Astlin, “to be where you are now.”

Xander’s voice faltered. “My revenge will cost me your respect?”

Astlin took his head in her hands. “I’ll still love you, but I’ll grieve like you do for me.”

Clenching his eyes against hot tears, Xander made his decision.