Mission To Mahjundar (39 page)

Princess of Shadows? A strange title to claim, if what you wish is to wield my powers.

Anger burning in her veins at the entity’s mocking tone and hesitation to help her, she said, “Very well then I’m the Empress of Mahjundar at this moment, with you in my hands and I
command
you to help me save my warriors.”

The giant gemstone grew hot under her palms, but Shalira bit her lip and hung on. A wind rose inside the cave, swirling the dust, keening through the boulders. She concentrated on trying to harness the power, shape the energy into a weapon to launch at their enemy, hopefully with more effect than the Sectors’ blasters.

There was the boom of a small explosion.

Shielding his eyes as if by reflex, Johnny cursed. “What the hell?”
 

A wall of translucent purple light now stood between her and Tlazomiccuhtli, stretching from wall to wall of the cavern. Like an uncanny spider web, strands composed of motes of light emanated from the stone in the scepter.
 

The spirit of your cherindors can’t defeat me.
The ancient god’s voice in her head was derisive, amused. The red snakes began writhing their way down the statue’s body. “You’ll all die here. The power imbued with the stone can only delay me, never defeat me.” The deity’s voice had become audible, not just in her head. With horror, she saw a faint image of Tlazomiccuhtli standing in front of the stone statue, becoming more solid by the second. The snakes latched onto the shadowy version of the god as if feeding him their energy.

How am I going to do battle with a god?
Shalira got a better grip on the remnant of the scepter’s staff. She risked a quick glance at her two companions. Mike was slumped on the rocky ground, unconscious again and Johnny crouched beside him, seemingly dazed but at least not taking any action to harm either himself or his cousin. She heard the whine of a blaster from the entrance and knew Everett was keeping the human enemies at bay. The other fight, it seemed, was up to her.

Tlazomiccuhtli straightened, hands on hips, drawing in a gusty breath as the red snakes, now pale and thin, withered and fell away to writhe on the cavern floor. “Victory shall be mine, Oracle. First you feed me your life and power, then the warriors die, after which I’ll direct my Nathlemeru to take up arms against the people on the other side of the river. Your goddess and her kin have withdrawn, no longer worshipped or even recognized. Which leaves a void for me to step into at long last.”

Cracks began to form in the sheet of purple illumination between Shalira and the deity. Sections of the light sizzled and vanished. It wouldn’t be more than a moment or two before Tlazomiccuhtli could touch her.

A fleeting thought crossed her mind. She wondered how well Empress Maralika’s strange new pantheon of gods would fare against this monster from before time. Cupping her locket in her free hand, Shalira rolled her shoulders, attempting to channel whatever power the scepter could or would feed her. “You have to get past me first and in this moment, I’m the Empress
and
Defender of Mahjundar.” Claiming the titles felt right but it was sheer bravado and she knew it. “I call on Pavmiraia to help me.”

A cool breeze, smelling of the lowland flowers, blasted through the cavern.

“I stand at your side,” said a new voice.

Nearly dropping the scepter, Shalira realized the goddess had joined them.

The newcomer put her hand over Shalira’s on the half destroyed shaft of the royal insignia. The goddess’s touch was cold but tingling energy flowed into the princess, making her giddy, making her feel as powerful as if she were ten feet tall, with strength to match.

“My time is done but so is yours,” Pavmiraia said to Tlazomiccuhtli, her voice mocking. “I’ve waited these many centuries for you to step into the world, show yourself to me, not merely work through avatars and servants. I hoped the arrival of this girl, this last of my true believers, in your stronghold would be the tipping point.”

“You knew I was going to end up here?” Shalira was dismayed, angry.

Pavmiraia shrugged. “There were multiple possibilities for your fate, paths to be taken. The coming of the offworlders tipped the odds in my favor and yours. You were the last hope I had. If you’d failed, or chosen otherwise, the world of humans on this planet would have suffered a dire fate and I would not have been able to intervene.”

As the purple wall continued to crack and disappear into nothingness, Shalira felt a strong hand on her shoulder. Face drawn and grim, racked with pain, Mike stood on her other side, with Johnny flanking him. “I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know how to help,” he said in her ear, “but we’re guarding your six.”

Tlazomiccuhtli grabbed one of his depleted serpents, which regenerated as he held it, becoming a massive spear in his hand, the tip a glowing ruby, its pointed end gleaming like the point of a dagger. “Much as I admire your foolish courage, outworld warrior, I’ll start by taking your heart because I need it more than you do.” He took aim.

As he hurled the uncanny weapon at Mike through the remnants of the scepter-generated purple shield, the goddess Pavmiraia stepped aside.

Furious, Shalira threw herself in front of her beloved, scepter raised above her head. Exerting all her willpower, the princess channeled the dregs of power she felt remaining in the gemstone, demanding that the cherindors help her.

Purple haze drifted from the surface of the gemstone, swirling around her, Mike and Johnny, coating them in reflected, glistening amethyst light, as if she were becoming a gemstone herself. Having difficulty keeping her eyes open against the glare, she hoped this was leading to something useful. In the next second growling laughter rang through her head and a wave of freezing cold shot through her like knives, gone between one breath and the next. The spear’s flight was halted in midair and it fell harmlessly to the rocky ground, encased in glittering purple crystals that shattered, breaking Tlazomiccuhtli’s weapon.

Pavmiraia strolled forward, a beautiful young woman, with lustrous black hair streaming down her back all the way to the ground. Her dress was shades of green, accented with precious gems and intricate designs in gold thread. She glanced back at Shalira and nodded and the princess was awestruck at how lovely and serene the face of the goddess was, even at this extreme moment. “No need for all this violence, Tlazomiccuhtli, my beloved. Take comfort in my arms as you used to do before the chaos was dispelled and the world of humans was created. Time enough to decide your next move after we’ve renewed our affair.” Growing taller with each step, she held out her arms as she walked steadily toward the other god.

Tlazomiccuhtli’s eyes narrowed and he retreated a step. Pavmiraia embraced the god and pulled his hideous head down for a kiss. As his multiple arms wrapped around her, there was an explosion, red, purple and green flares blending together, flying in a visible circle outward from the embracing lovers.

Mike yanked Shalira out of the path of the light, pulling her behind a stalagmite. Johnny came right behind them.

Folded in Mike’s arms, Johnny trying to shield both of them, Shalira heard the three note song of the myrdima. She fought free of the men and stepped away from the stalagmite just in time to see thousands of the creatures fly from the spot where Tlazomiccuhtli and Pavmiraia had been standing. Of the two gods there was no sign. The stone idol at the rear of the cave was cracked into three pieces, crumbling into dust as she watched. The myrdima poured through the cavern, flashing past her, exiting in a solid wave of colors and shooting into the sky. The song was glorious, triumphant, deafening in the enclosed space.

One small green myrdima fluttered behind the masses of its fellows, landing on Shalira’s shoulder for a moment. Its feathery antennae brushed her cheek and she heard the goddess’s voice for the final time.

“Your dreams have been granted, my daughter, as have mine. I’ve rid Mahjundar of the ancient evil, with your help, and now I too am free.” The crystalline three note song trilled as the creature lifted into the air and shot after the flock, wings blurring with the effort.

 
“Are you okay?” A visibly shaken Johnny was trying to get her to stand and Shalira realized she must have blacked out for a moment or two. “I don’t know what magic you worked just then, but you sure saved our butts.”
 

She stood and took two swift steps to where Mike had fallen, kneeling to check that he’d come through the event unscathed, even if he’d relapsed into an unconscious state.

“The scepter. Where is it?” Hand to her aching head, Shalira looked around for the stone and staff.

“I see it.” Johnny picked it up for her before she could stop him or utter a warning. The great stone was cracked in half, clouded. The golden cherindors were melted, unrecognizable lumps of blackened metal. Speculating if the power had been depleted forever, if she’d ever be brave enough to try channeling the cherindor again, Shalira accepted the staff, tucking it in her belt.

“All dead out there,” Everett reported, striding through the boulders. “I don’t know what the hell that was but why didn’t we pull that trick sooner?”

“I didn’t know it was possible,” Shalira said, glaring at Everett. “Don’t you think I would have used it to save Saium’s life, if I could have?”

Off in the distance, outside the cave, she heard the faint call of the shell horns. Exchanging glances with Johnny, heart sinking, she said, “And I can’t repeat the miracle.”

“You won’t have to—I hear the drone,” the sergeant said a moment later.

She could hear the noise herself now, a metallic whine, coming closer, growing to a deafening scream. “Thank the gods.”

“Can you walk?” Johnny shouted in her ear.

“Yes, I’m fine. Please, take care of Mike.”

The two soldiers lifted the unconscious major carefully, trying not to further jostle his injuries, and Shalira followed them from the shelter of the boulders as a trim silver and black ship settled onto the sandy soil, blocking the stream. Water diverted around the drone, forcing them to slosh through the redirected stream.

“How do we get inside?” she asked, glancing downriver as the horns sounded again.

Adjusting his hold on Mike, Johnny set his fingers in a shallow depression on the drone’s hull she hadn’t noticed. A virtual keypad revealed itself and he tapped something in. “Special Forces code,” he said.

Silently a door slid open, and a short ramp extended to the ground. Needing no invitation, adrenaline high, Shalira scrambled into the drone, not knowing what to expect but desperate to be somewhere the Nathlemeru couldn’t reach her ever again. The drone’s plain interior was equipped with a set of thinly padded seats along both sides. Gleaming, complicated equipment occupied the stern, and this was where the soldiers carried Mike, placing him gently on a table bolted to the deck. Johnny immediately went to work, pulling medical supplies from drawers and hooking Mike to strange devices. “Stay in your seat till we’re safely airborne,” he called over his shoulder to Shalira.

Everett sprinted back past her and did something she couldn’t see, causing the door to close. Sinking into the nearest uncomfortable seat, she realized she’d been holding her breath. The Special Forces soldier jogged forward, taking one of the empty chairs in the nose. Through the vidscreens above Everett’s head and along the sides, she could tell the drone was already rising along the canyon wall without anyone taking any further action. As they cleared the top and the drone took a steep tangent into the sky, Everett raised his fists, threw back his head and yelled in triumph, a long whoop overriding even the sound of the engines.

Rising, keeping her balance with difficulty, Shalira joined Johnny in the back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Keep me company,” he said. “The drone got here in the nick of time all right. Mike’s in a bad way, especially with the skirmish with your gods back in the cave, but I can keep him ticking till we reach the roboship.”

“Hey, some good news for a change,” Everett said from his position in the bow. “The
Andy’s
going to be on station by the time we get there. They’re ordering us to board directly.”

Keeping his eyes on the readouts, Johnny said to Shalira, “You don’t need to worry, I’ll stay close. No one is going to send Mike’s fiancée back to the surface, okay?”

“I didn’t realize that was even a possibility,” she said. “Is he going to be in trouble for rescuing me?”

Now Johnny did glance at her. “Well, the fact you helped us achieve our mission objective is a big point in your favor. And the
Andy’s
captain is one of Mike’s best friends in the service. So you coming home with us is unusual, but we’ll get through it. He’d never forgive me if I let you get away now.” Raising his voice, Johnny said, “Tell the
Andy
we need the med team to meet us on the deck.”

“Roger.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

After the small ship floated to a landing inside the battleship's vast hangar space and the hatch opened, Everett bounded out, returning in a moment with a uniformed soldier who eyed Shalira in passing as he went to meet Johnny. Although she couldn’t speak Basic very well, she inferred the sergeant was asking if the doctor was waiting for them.

The soldier’s answer was affirmative. He activated an antigrav litter in some manner Shalira couldn’t see and, working together, Johnny and the newcomer got Mike onto the stretcher. Johnny came to take her elbow.