Authors: Margaret Weis
Undoubtedly
Maigrey had come this way, he supposed, glancing at her spaceplane,
gleaming white, as he ran past.
He could have
reached out to her, could have discovered where she was, what she was
doing. He could have reached out to Sagan, as well, if the Warlord
was still alive. But Dion knew that to open himself to them was to
open himself to Abdiel and he wasn't ready for that yet.
He kept his
thoughts and mind focused on his decision, on the fete that lay ahead
of him. The sacrifice must go willingly, or it would all be in vain.
And he never
noticed, in the distance, hiding in the darkness, among the stumps of
charred trees, the army of mind-dead, waiting. He never noticed, when
he entered the passages that led blow, the lurid red glow starting to
light the sky behind him.
Dion groped his
way along the passage slowly, cautiously. The darkness was intense.
He should have brought along Tusk's night-vision goggles. Dion was
considering switching on a small nuke beam he carried in his weapons
belt, debating on whether the risks he would incur using the light
would outweigh stumbling around in the dark, when the voice spoke.
"Dion
Starfire. We have been expecting you. This way, please."
Nervous, tense,
Dion swung around, gun in hand. It took a moment for him to make
sense of the words, barely heard over the sudden pounding of his
heart.
He switched on
the nuke beam, aimed it about eye level, hoping to blind whoever it
was talking until he had a good look at them.
The light
illuminated the figure of human male, standing composedly near a rock
wall. The beam caught him full in the eyes, but whether or not his
vision was impaired by it was impossible to judge. His eyes squinted
involuntarily, but no expression of pain, irritation, or annoyance
crossed the impassive face. The eyes, once they had adjusted to the
light, reflected it back, flat as mirrors, with no light of their
own.
"Mind-dead,"
said Dion to himself, keeping the lasgun fixed on the man. Aloud he
asked, "Who are you?"
"My name is
Mikael," said the man, detaching himself from the wall.
Dion was
momentarily confused. He'd met Mikael before, the time he'd first met
Abdiel on Laskar, and this wasn't the same man. That Mikael had died,
struck down by the centurion Marcus. Dion dimly remembered
someone—Sagan, Maigrey, someone—telling him that Abdiel
called each of his most favored servants by that name, promoting a
new Mikael to the position whenever the previous Mikael passed on.
"I want to
see your master," Dion said.
Mikael bowed.
"My orders are to take you to him, Your Majesty. Please, follow
me. You will not need your light."
The man switched
on a nuke lamp of his own. Dion, ignoring him, kept his own light
turned on, played it over every centimeter of ground, wall, and
ceiling.
The passageway
appeared empty, except for themselves.
"Go on,
then," ordered Dion. "You first."
This Mikael was
a taller, broader, more muscular Mikael than the last one, but the
expression on the two faces was so similar that they might have been
created in the same womb. Which, to a certain extent, they had been,
Dion thought, eyeing with repugnance the man moving ahead of him.
His senses
heightened, tense, and alert, Dion was suddenly aware of Maigrey's
presence in the passage. She wasn't here now, but she had been here,
been this way, recently, too. It was as if he could smell a lingering
fragrance, see a faint glimmer of silver light shining
phosphorescently on the dark rock. He longed to reach out to her, but
to touch her would be to touch Abdiel. All of them were so close,
they could not help but mentally bump into each other.
Better, Dion
decided, to remain alone.
They continued
walking. He saw, some distance ahead, what he thought was firelight,
its reflection flickering yellow, flaring brightly one moment, waning
another. He was curious to see the source, but Mikael, at the last
second, turned aside, entered a smaller, narrower passage that
branched off to the right.
Dion stopped. He
had lost Maigrey's trail. She had taken a different path.
"Is this
the right way?" he demanded.
"It is for
you, Your Majesty," answered Mikael, as if he knew what Dion was
thinking.
They traveled
downward, the tunnel floor sloping at a steep angle, spiraling round
itself. Other passages slanted off. Dion saw their dark entryways,
sometimes thought he heard the sound of machines thumping, pulsing.
Once, rounding a turn, he saw the red glow that meant Corasians.
Terrible memories of his captivity aboard the Corasian mother ship
came back to him. His hand closed over a grenade on his belt.
"Have no
fear, Dion Starfire," advised Mikael in his lifeless voice.
"They will do you no harm."
The disciple
continued walking, moving straight toward the Corasians.
Not wanting to
appear weak or fearful, Dion did the same, although he kept his
fingers wrapped tightly around the grenade. The Corasians came into
view, trundling down the same corridor, passing so close that Dion
felt the intense heat radiating from their steelglass bodies, could
see the inner workings of the robot mechanisms that propelled them.
He stood
prepared to fight, but the Corasians wheeled past, giving no sign
that they were aware of him or his companion, beyond a slight hissing
sound, like steam escaping from an overheated kettle. Dion relaxed
his grip on the grenade, continued after Mikael.
The tunnel grew
narrower. Dion gradually became aware of a light shining from
somewhere below them, reflecting off the walls, growing steadily
brighter. He became aware, at the same time, and in almost the same
way, of Abdiel's presence, reflecting off Dion's mind, growing
steadily stronger.
The passage
ceased its downward slant, leveled out sharply, suddenly, causing
Dion, accustomed to the slope, to miss his footing and nearly fall.
He caught himself on the wall, steadied himself.
Mikael turned to
him. "Why do you stop? My master awaits you."
"I'll go
when I choose," Dion said harshly.
The passage
opened into a large, round cavelike room with a low, domed ceiling.
It was hot, reminded Dion of Abdiel's saunalike "house" on
Laskar. The young man moved forward, came to stand in the doorway,
and he saw the source of the heat. At first he thought the room was
on fire. Flames burned in every part of it, yet there was no smoke
and the air, if anything, was easier to breathe than in the tunnel.
"Come in,
my king," said a well-remembered voice that sent an electric
shock through Dion's nerves. "Come in where it is warm and we
can talk together comfortably. Old friends of yours are here,
awaiting your arrival with considerable impatience. "
"Stay on
the bridge," warned Mikael, "and you will avoid the fire."
Dion saw Sagan,
saw Maigrey, and for a confused moment he was back on
Phoenix,
entering another domed chamber, meeting them both for the first time.
The sun and
the moon. He was in the presence of both and he felt their pull on
him, felt his blood surge like the tide, his body move in response.
It would be very easy to take his place in orbit around these two. .
. .
But he hadn't.
Nor would he. He'd become his own sun.
Maigrey was
looking at him expressively, her eyes gray and cold as ashes.
And he was once
again back on
Phoenix
but now he had entered the Warlord's
chamber. He was there for the rite, the test. He'd looked into her
eyes, seen there a reflection of his own fear.
"I'm going
to die," he'd told her then.
And when he'd
spoken the fear aloud, he'd been filled with sudden peace, imbued
with a terrible calm. A calm such as he felt now.
Dion walked
unhesitatingly into the chamber filled with fire.
A span made of
rock lifted him up and over flames burning on the surface of a vast
pool of black water beneath him.
He studied the
cavern, taking note of his surroundings as he'd been taught. Four
passageways opened into the room, four bridges led from each
entrance, formed the shape of a cross over the flaming water. In the
center stood what might have been a tomb. Lady Maigrey and Lord Sagan
were on one side of the tomb, Abdiel on the other. Resting on top of
the tomb was Dion's bloodsword.
"A long
journey, my king," said Abdiel solicitously. "Long and
dangerous. And yet you've taken this risk to come to talk to me. I am
flattered."
Dion hesitated.
Only a moment, a split-second. He didn't mean to, he tried to cover
it, but he knew by the sudden narrowing of Sagan's eyes, by the
lowering of Lady Maigrey's, that his hesitation had been observed,
understood.
Dion set his
jaw. "I didn't come to talk to you or to them." His gaze
flicked to Maigrey, Sagan. "I came," he continued
resolutely, "to get my sword."
He drew near the
tomb. No one moved, no one seemed even to breathe.
"And if you
try to stop me," he said, speaking to everyone in the fire lit
room, "I've brought the space-rotation bomb with me. On my
orders, Tusk will detonate it.
This time,"
he added with
emphasis and a meaningful glance at Maigrey, "the bomb is armed.
This time it's not a test—"
"This
time,'" Abdiel mimicked him, "the space-rotation bomb is
mine. Tusk," he added conversationally, "is dead."
Dion had
approached the tomb, his hand outstretched for the sword. At the
mind-seizer's words, he halted, his hand wavered.
"I don't
believe you."
"Yes, you
do. I can't he to you. You would know it. Just as you can't lie to
me." Abdiel smiled, the lidless eyes bored into Dion. "Try
to contact your friend. Go ahead."
Dion swallowed,
but the dryness in his throat increased. He had no need to use the
commlink. He knew, by the sudden, searing pain in his chest, that the
mind-seizer was right. Something had happened to Tusk. Something
terrible . . .
And so"
I've foiled, Dion realized. My sacrifice is now meaningless. The true
sacrifice was my people, my friends.
Dion lunged
forward, grabbed for the sword.
Abdiel was
watching, waiting. His left hand snaked out, closed over Dion's left
shoulder, sharp needles jabbing deep into the young man's flesh. Dion
cried out, more in anger and frustration than in pain.
"Don't
move, my lord, my lady," Abdiel warned. "You know what will
happen if I inject the virus into him at this point on his body, this
point near the heart. The virus and micro-machines, entering the body
outside their usual, proscribed paths, will flare in his blood like
liquid fire."
Both froze,
motion arrested. The bloodswords they held burned. They were both
within striking distance of Abdiel, though he stood on the other side
of the bier.
He read their
thoughts, nodded. "Yes, a danger. But not for long. Throw your
swords into the water."
Sagan sucked in
a breath, his face went livid with fury.
"If you
don't," Abdiel continued, "I'll kill your king. And you
took an oath to protect—"
"I'll die!"
Dion cried, voice hollow. "It's what I came to do. You
understand, don't you, Maigrey! I came to make the sacrifice. Kill
him! Then go to Tusk. Set off the bomb!"
Abdiel jabbed
the needles in deeper. Dion gasped, sank to his knees before the
tomb. Blood trickled down his arm.
"Kill him!"
he gasped.
"You are
strong, my king," said Abdiel in admiration. "Not like that
fool, your uncle. With my help, you will make an excellent ruler.
Much as you would have, Sagan, if you had accepted my offer. Or you,
Lady Maigrey. Throw your swords into the water, Guardians."
Sagan, dark,
grim, shook his head. "I'd throw myself in first, Mind-seizer!"
"Then do
so, by all means," said Abdiel.
The Warlord took
a furious step toward the bier, his sword raised.
Abdiel drove the
needles deeper into Dion's flesh.
"Go ahead,
my lord!" Dion shouted, flinching. He clutched desperately at
the mind-seizer's hand, tried to tear it from him. "I command
you! Kill him!"
"Don't!"
Maigrey caught hold of the Warlord's arm. "We have ... no
choice," she said softly, bitterly.
Turning, she
threw the bloodsword away from her, sent it spiraling over the rock
span. It fell into the flames, struck the black water with a splash
of fire, and sank into the darkness.
Sagan glared at
Abdiel in rage, impotent, frustrated. Then, with a bitter curse, he
hurled his bloodsword far from him. It smashed into a wall, exploded
in a ball of blue-white fire, brighter, for a moment, than a star.
And then it was gone.
Abdiel removed
the needles from Dion's flesh. The king slumped over the bier,
shivering, his hand grasping his bleeding shoulder.
"Mikael,"
the mind-seizer ordered, "watch over my lord and lady. You,
Priest, come join them. I'm certain they would appreciate your
prayers."
Brother Daniel,
eyes lowered, hands hidden in the folds of his sleeves, rose to his
feet and came to stand beside Lord Sagan. The mind-seizer aimed the
beam rifle directly at them.
"And now,
His Majesty and I will have our little talk. For you did come to talk
to me, didn't you, my king?" Abdiel continued.
"I won't
talk with you," said Dion, his eyes on the needles imbedded in
Abdiel's palm. "Not like that. Not again. I'd die first.
"No, you
would die last. The lady"—Abdiel glanced at Maigrey—"will
die first. And then the priest, then the Warlord. You speak very
glibly of sacrifice, my king. Will you sacrifice these, as you have
already sacrificed your friend Tusk? And for what? Are you afraid to
talk with me? Afraid to hear the truth?"