Prime Reaper (14 page)

Owen nodded. His face was grave. “Aye, they must have.”

A single tear eased down the Prime Reaper’s face. “Cynyr, no. I promised her,” he whispered. “I promised my lady!”

Cynyr hunkered down beside him. “Ari, they had no choice if she was to live.”

“What was wrong with her, Cyn?” Phelan asked although the other men hissed at him for asking.

Aingeal’s Reaper looked around, giving Phelan a warning look. “Ovarian cancer.”

“Did they remove the diseased organs?” Jaborn asked.

Cynyr shook his head. “No, once they gave her the fledgling, it took care of the cancer. The revenant worm consumed the diseased organs then regenerated them as they should have been.”

“God, no!” Arawn moaned, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook beneath the weight of his grief. “The pain had to be brutal for her!”

Cynyr started to put a hand to Arawn’s shoulder but thought better of it. The man’s pain was tangible and with the linking that had been established between them in Haines City, the sharing of a parasite Queen, he could feel Ari’s agony like a sentient life form. “I am so sorry, Arawn,” he said gently.

“Bastards,” Arawn whispered.

Unable to bear the weight of his anguish in front of the other men, Arawn scrambled to his feet and ran out into the darkness of the night. When Iden would have followed to comfort the Prime Reaper, Cynyr called him back.

“He’s going to have to deal with this on his own,” Cynyr said.

“That is why I don’t want a woman,” Owen told Jaborn. “It makes you too damned vulnerable.”

“Perhaps that is why she sent him on this mission without letting him know she was sick,” Jaborn suggested.

“She shouldn’t have married him if she knew she was sick,” Phelan said around clenched teeth.

“She didn’t know it was as bad as it turned out to be,” Cynyr stated. “She thought it was a bad stomachache.”

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“I saw her rubbing her side many a time,” Iden said. “I thought it merely a nervous habit.”

“How could he not have known?” Owen said. “Wouldn’t he have picked up on something not being right when he took her blood?”

Cynyr took off his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “It seems Ari’s lady has abilities none of us sensed.” He sat down fully on the ground with his legs crossed.

“She can mindsheild.”

“A powerful talent,” Jaborn commented. “There was a woman in my village who had such an aptitude.”

“What does that mean?” Iden asked.

“What part of mindshield is unclear to you, brat?” Owen growled. “She can shield her mind, her thoughts.”

“And confuse others’ thoughts, cloud them,” Jaborn added. “Make them think one thing when in actuality it is a different thing altogether.”

“Like making him think he took her blood when he obviously didn’t,” Cynyr said,

“else he would have known.”

“And he could have come on this mission with his mind on her and not on what we have to do,” Owen put in.

“And that won’t be the case now?” Phelan demanded. “Apparently the Shadowlords spoke to you or you wouldn’t have known about Danni. Why couldn’t they have waited until after we had done our job to hurt him like this?”

“Lord Kheelan had his reasons,” Cynyr said, “but had it been me, I would have waited.”

“If you look at this from the Shadowlords’ point of view,” Jaborn said, drawing everyone’s eyes, “they knew eventually Gehdrin would attempt to contact his lady, to touch on her. Perhaps he would have done this on the eve of going into battle. When he could not touch her, he would have become very concerned. Would he not have thought her dead?”

“Aye, and with his mind so divided…” Cynyr shrugged, not needing to finish. A loud wail followed by a fierce howl broke the stillness of the night and the Reapers shuddered, turning toward the spot from which the sound had come.

“He’s Transitioning?” Phelan asked, aghast.

“The better to deal with his turmoil,” Jaborn said. “I do the same thing.”

“It is a waste of energy,” Phelan snapped. “Shifting expends too much energy when we’re not in Transition.”

“We each deal with our problems in different ways,” Owen reminded him. “Me? I get shitfaced.”

“A drunken Reaper,” Glyn said as he poured himself another cup of coffee. “Now that is an image I’d rather you had kept to yourself, Tohre.”

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Cynyr’s gaze was locked on the darkness and as the men around him spoke to one another, he closed his eyes and opened the link between Arawn Gehdrin and him. Should Ari need him, he would be there.

* * * * *

Out on the cool sands of the desert, the red wolf ran as fast as its legs could carry it. Its thick fur glistened in the moonlight, its fangs showing. The chuffing noises it made as it sped over the dunes and leapt over fallen trees sounded very much like a man crying. For an hour it ran full-out until its heart began to fail, its legs began to give out, and when it stopped high atop a bluff with its sides heaving, its body quivering from the exertion of its blind run, it threw its head back and howled, trilling the air with a hopeless, pitiful sound. It howled again then fell to the ground, laying its head down between front legs.

When Cynyr made his way to the spot where Arawn Gehdrin was curled up in a fetal position, the desert air had turned from cool to cold and a brisk wind was whipping about the sand. The moon had hidden behind highflying clouds. Without speaking, Cree sat down beside the Prime Reaper. With him he carried a spare uniform from the pack mule, and he placed the folded shirt and pants so Ari could see them then placed the extra pair of boots beside them.

“Damn if it ain’t colder than a witch’s teat tonight,” Cynyr observed, drawing his legs up and enclosing them within the perimeter of his arms. “You suppose the ocean water is going to be cold?”

Arawn said nothing. He was staring out into the darkness without blinking. His hands were pressed together between his knees as he lay naked on the sand. The tracks of his salty tears clung to his cheeks but he was done with his crying.

“You know I can feel your pain,” Cynyr said softly, but Ari remained silent for a bit longer.

“Do you know I don’t give a fuck?” Arawn finally growled.

“
Take up your field glasses.
” The command had been clear in Cynyr’s mind and he reached for the glasses hanging around his neck. For a long while Cynyr said nothing as he scanned the darkness then flashes of light to the north of them drew his attention and he stared at it for a moment, thinking it lightning but then realized it wasn’t jagged as lightning would be. He got to his feet to study the phenomena more closely, puzzled at the streaks of brilliant reddish light spearing down from the heavens.

“
What is that, Cree?
” Owen sent to him for he too was looking through his set of field glasses.

“
I don’t know
,” Cynyr shot back. He could feel the ground beneath his feet moving but knew he had to be at least fifty miles from where the light was landing. As the streaks increased until they appeared to be a solid sheet of light streaming down to the ground, Arawn spoke. “What the fuck are you looking at?”

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“Red lightning,” Cynyr replied. “It’s—”

“It’s the lasers from the ships,” the Prime Reaper said listlessly. “It’s taking out the ghorets.”

Cynyr’s mouth dropped open and he stared with horror at the continuous barrage of red color lighting up the night. “By the gods, Ari,” he breathed. “There must be hundreds of those gods-be-damned things!”

“Aye,” Arawn said and sat up. He reached for his pants. “You had to know the Ceannus would have brought more this time.”

“But so many?” Cynyr said, shuddering. “What if even one of those vile things gets past the ship’s notice?”

“It won’t.”

Lying back on the ground to drag on his pants, Arawn never took his attention from Cynyr’s worried face. He pulled on his boots then stood, snagging his shirt from the sand. “Stop fretting about it,” he snapped.

“How close do you think they got to where any humans might be?” Cynyr asked, worry rife in his deep voice.

With his shirt buttoned, Arawn tucked it into his pants then zipped up his fly, buttoning his pants before he answered. “Too close.”

Cree shivered again. “God, I hope no one got bit by one of them.”

“If they did, they’re free of this shit we call life,” Arawn snapped. Cynyr turned away from watching the laser lights to look at his boss. “I know you are angry, Ari, but—”

“I should have been there for her,” Arawn said.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” Cynyr reminded him.

A muscle ticced in the Prime Reaper’s lean jaw. “She didn’t want to become one of us.” He continued to stare at the light show. “I swore to her I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“And you know as well as you are standing there that had you been at the Citadel, you would have chosen to save her life,” Cynyr told him.

Arawn turned a fierce snarl to Cynyr. “You don’t know anything about it!”

“I don’t?”

The Queen that once had been hosted in Arawn Gehdrin’s body and now resided within Cynyr Cree called out to her fledglings and the nest inside Ari gave him a scalding burn that staggered him. He slapped a hand to his back and groaned with the punishing burn, bending forward with the agony of it.

“I almost lost Aingeal, Ari, and I wasn’t going to allow that to happen. You wouldn’t have allowed Danni to leave you either and you know it—promise or no promise.”

Arawn went to one knee. “Stop torturing me, you fucking bitches!” he hissed at the hellions and the pain slowly resided. He massaged the area where the Revenant worms 77

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had hurt him. “My lady will have to contend with shit like this,” he said, tears welling up in his stricken eyes. He tilted his head back to look up at Cynyr. “This is the very thing Danielle feared!”

“But she’s alive, Ari,” Cynyr said, understanding the other man’s anger and helplessness. “She’s alive and healthy. Doesn’t that count?”

The expression on his face said he knew he was beaten, knew he had no way to fight what had been done. He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut. When his shoulders began to shake, Cynyr knelt down beside him and took the Prime Reaper in his arms.

“Let it out, my friend,” Cynyr said softly. “Let all of it out.”

* * * * *

Iden lowered his field glasses from the fiery streaks of light stabbing the distance and told the others quietly that Cree and Gehdrin had returned. It had been over an hour and still the lights in the sky continued to rain upon the earth but the frequency and distance between each strike had lengthened considerably.

“We guessed it was the High Council’s ship,” Phalen told Cynyr as the two men came over to the campfire to warm themselves.

“Aye, that’s what it is,” Cynyr agreed.

“There sure were a lot of those vipers,” Iden joined in.

“I’m not sure I understand what it is that is happening,” Ash said as he took two cups of coffee over to Cynyr and Arawn. “What exactly is it the Shadowlords are destroying out there?”

“Ghorets,” the healer answered for the Reapers. He—like Ash—had been silent most of the evening, preferring to listen to the men for whom they held the deepest respect. “They are pit vipers the likes of which this world can not imagine.”

“One bite from one will kill a human like you in less than a heartbeat,” Owen said.

“They are evil personified,” Glyn stated.

“What of you Reapers?” Ash inquired. “Would you succumb to one of their bites?”

Every man there except the steward looked at Cynyr.

“Let’s just say a Reaper would just as soon not like to feel the piercing of its fangs,”

Cree replied.

“Cynyr once had multiple bites, Ash,” the healer said quietly. “He almost died.”

“Why would the Ceannus unleash such evil?” Ask queried. “Surely they had to know the vipers would kill every human on—”

“They knew,” Arawn cut him off. “That was their intention.” He took a sip of the scalding hot coffee as he stared into the fire. The flames cast an eerie shadow on his handsome face and his amber eyes gleamed behind the steam from the coffee.

“We need to destroy them once and for all,” Glyn said.

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“There was a man from a neighboring village,” Jaborn said, “who fought the agents sent to impress men into the service of the Ceannus. He was a veritable tiger and he seriously wounded several of the press-gang members before they took him down.”

Except for Arawn, all attention shifted to the Akhkharulian.

“He was a large man with the largest hands I’d ever seen,” Jaborn continued. He held up his hand and turned the palm toward him with the fingers splayed. He looked at his palm. “He wasn’t a warrior but a woodcarver and you had to wonder how a man with such large hands could do the intricate detail work needed to create the figurines he carved.”

“And your point is…?” Iden inquired.

Jaborn continued to look at his hand. “This Ceannus threatened to cut off his fingers one by one if he did not behave.” He lowered his hand, rubbing the palm on his pant leg. “None of us knew what we had been brought into. We knew nothing of the Ceannus or what they did. We knew nothing of
balgairs
or Reapers. All we knew was that we were now enslaved to them.”

“Is this going somewhere or are you simply talking to hear yourself talk?” Iden demanded with the impatience of youth.

Jaborn ignored the question.

“When we were undergoing the Transfers of the hellions, this man was among the first to Transition and I remember watching him as he sat staring down at his paws. No doubt he was thinking he would never carve again, that he would remain an animal until he died. I felt pity for him. He was so horrified at what he had become he began gnawing at his paws. He gnawed until they bled and then he began to chew off each toe.”

“How bizarre,” the healer said. “Whatever could he have been thinking?”

“He wanted to die,” Glyn said. “To kill himself.”