Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
Again the gatekeepers spoke in unison. “To our warriors grant compassion to those who deserve it, healing to those who require it, tranquility to those beyond help and clearness of conscience to do what must be done.”
The fourth man stuck his hand into the air. “The fourth element is earth. It is that which signifies security, endurance, concentration and thoroughness. We invoke Uriel of the North to aid us.”
One last time the gatekeepers’ voices lifted in chant. “To our warriors grant complete concentration on their task, endurance to see their tasks to the end and thoroughness of action so there will be security for them and for us.”
A soft wind began to swirl about the room and with it came delicate, intermingled scents of lavender, tangerine, gardenia and honeysuckle.
The three Shadowlords spoke in unison. “Protect us, Holy Ones, and lend Your assistance to our warriors whose lives we place into Your compassionate hands.”
Lord Kheelan stood and stretched his hands toward the center of the circle. “Guide our warriors and grant them the strength of purpose and the honor of completion of the tasks set before them. Return them to us as they journeyed forth. Let no harm befall them that can not be undone.”
Lord Naois stood and he too stretched out his hands toward the center of the circle.
“Lend Your support to the loved ones of our warriors and keep them as well in the protection of Your hands. Let no harm befall them that can not be undone.”
Lord Dunham took the floor and arched his hands over the circle. “Delve into the hearts of those gathered here before You and see that we have come to ask Your blessings in the name of righteousness and not evil. Let no harm befall us that can not be undone.”
The gatekeepers rose and joined hands. Their voices blended into one.
“We are the Female spirits of the Universe, the earthly representation of She who is One in Three. We are the mothers and daughters and aunts, the sisters and wives and lovers. We are Birth and Death and War. Ours is the vastness of space and the infinity of existence. Over our warriors we spread the Triune safeguard of protection—the blanket of defense, the shield of security, the cloak of safety. Let our warriors return to us as they journeyed forth.”
When his fellow Shadowlords and the gatekeepers sat down, the High Lord remained standing. “Each of you has someone dear to your heart that will be placed in danger this night.” His eyes shifted for a moment to Lea and then away. “Pray to the Guardians of the Universe that your loved one will be spared and that he will return safely to us. Ask that no harm will befall him that can not be undone.”
Bevyn had not missed the look Lord Kheelan aimed at Lea. He turned to look at her where she sat with Danielle between them. Who was he—he wondered, his heart 107
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aching—among the Reapers for whom she had loving thoughts? Was this why she wanted to leave him? Had she given her heart to one of his teammates? Was it Arawn or Cynyr, Owen or Glyn or Iden? Jealousy reared its ugly head and he ground his teeth.
“For those of us gathered here, take now a silent moment to send your strength and love to those who have placed themselves in harm’s way. Do not attempt to contact our warriors for to do so might distract them and endanger their lives. Send only your strength and love to them. Do not speak to them in their minds. When you have said your prayers, you may leave but speak no words until you are well clear of this room for what is said here carries forth to the Guardians,” the High Lord said softly then once more took his seat, bowing his head—as did his fellow Shadowlords and their gatekeepers.
Long after everyone else had left the chamber, Bevyn sat where he was, his mind in chaos, his very soul hurting. With his connection to the members of his team he could see them behind his closed eyelids and knew the exact moment in which the first of them engaged the enemy and took that man’s life.
As he sat there remotely viewing in his mind the actions of his team, a startling realization crashed down upon him. A Reaper would die this night!
His eyes snapped open and he stared blankly at the wall—feeling the agony of that foresight crippling him—then got to his feet. He climbed the stairs purposefully, his jaw rigid and set, his fingernails biting half-moons into his palm.
* * * * *
Lea swiped at the tears that fell from her eyes. She was terrified for the man she loved so powerfully and feared this night would take him from her forever. Like Bevyn, she had not missed the look the High Lord sent her way. Over and over she mumbled a litany of prayers for the safety of the man who meant more to her than her own life as her fingers twisted at her bodice. So wrapped up in her sorrow, so steeped in her turmoil of spirit, she did not hear the stealthy footsteps behind her. She did not sense the danger coming at her. Nothing registered with her until the burning thrust of the ice-cold dagger drove deep into her back—piercing her aching heart—and she began to fall, blackness reaching up with greedy hands to drag her down into the Abyss. She did not see the face of her murderer nor the shadow that stood over her as her life’s blood spread warmly around her. The last word on Lea’s lips was her lover’s name spoken with true regret.
* * * * *
His business settled, Bevyn quietly made his way to the reception hall. He was not surprised to find the door leading outside unlocked and unguarded. He went out into the darkness of the night, looked up at the black velvet of the sky, let the soft mist of icy rain fall gently into his face then took to the air—an ebony crow as midnight as the 108
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world around it flying straight for the life-destroying Net that blanketed the heavens over the Citadel.
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Chapter Eleven
Cynyr and Glyn entered the operations room of the first tower as easily as a hot knife slicing through butter. Two guards were playing cards but neither looked up as the Reapers removed the laser whips from the sheaths at their hips and silently flicked open the deadly weapon. Two heads rolled to the floor with barely a thump and Glyn was sprinting up the stairs to take out the third guard as Cynyr calmly retrieved the dead men’s heads and put them back on the bodies. Upstairs, Glyn was repositioning the tower light so it did not shine directly on the ground. The grim task done, the third guard dispatched, the men slipped out of the guard tower and into the darkness, sprinting quickly to the next tower. The entire lethal enterprise had taken less than two minutes.
At the other end of the line of towers, Iden and Phelan completed their first bloodless work with just as much ease. Moving on to the next tower, one of the dead men had turned to see his executioner and had cried out, alerting the two men in the tower. But Phelan had acquitted himself well by snapping forward his whip to dispatch one man and taking out the other on the backswing. The tower light moved so it cast its illumination higher, the Reapers left the building.
“Smooth,” Iden had pronounced of Phelan’s expertise with the laser whip and the men melded as one shadow into the darkness.
Methodically working their way from tower to tower, repositioning the lights, the four men met at the last one, grimly nodding to one another as Cynyr and Iden entered the tower to complete that end of their assignments. Glyn frowned as he noticed the pale flash of blue light as the guard in the tower was taken out.
“I hope no one saw any of that,” he told Phelan.
Waiting until the towers were secured and there was no direct light illuminating the exterior of the ship, Arawn and Jaborn made sure the other four men were in position around the courtyard before moving up the steps. All around them cybots were trundling past from hut to hut or lumbering into the main operational building but not a one of them seemed to be aware of the Reapers’ presence. It was well after midnight and the camp’s inhabitants—except for the guards—were snug in their beds, confident they were being protected. A thick fog had moved in from the water to help hide the warriors stealthily moving about the compound. The only rooms lit save for the guard towers were at the front of the operational building. Elsewhere, the buildings were dark.
“This is too damned easy,” Arawn whispered to Jaborn as they entered the ship. He had not expected the starship to be unlocked and was uneasy that no one was either 110
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outside or inside guarding the vehicle. It seemed all too vulnerable and that vulnerability set off alarms in the Prime Reaper’s head.
“Don’t borrow trouble,
mo tiarna
,” Jaborn said, using the term of respect he’d heard people at the citadel give Arawn.
Arawn glanced around at him. “We are equals, Kasid. We are
bráithre
.” He smiled.
“Brothers.”
Moisture formed in the Akhkharulian’s eyes and he lifted his head with pride. It was the first real show of mutual respect and camaraderie he had been shown from his fellow warriors and it had come from their leader. It touched something long dead in his soul. He nodded, unable to acknowledge Arawn’s words.
“Let’s shut down those ugly, little rolling bastards out there,” Arawn said. The interior of the ship was dark save for flickering lights on the instrument panels that washed an eerie greenish-yellow light over the faces of the Reapers. It had been over two decades since Arawn had been inside a ship. Neither he nor Jaborn had ever flown one but in a sealed pouch he carried inside his uniform shirt, Arawn had instructions on where to place the device Jaborn was carrying in a similar pouch. Once activated, the device should block signals to the cybots, effectively ending their usefulness.
Jaborn unbuttoned his shirt and removed the oilskin pouch that lay inside. Opening it, he gingerly pulled out the strange-looking device. He looked at Arawn who was reading the schematic.
“It goes there,” Arawn said, pointing to one portion of the instrument panel.
“Program it for—”
“Program it?” Jaborn repeated.
“Set it,” Arawn corrected, and the Akhkharulian nodded.
“Set it for how long?”
“Two minutes.”
Their task done, the two men moved quietly back outside and positioned themselves in strategic spots along with the other four Reapers. Only Owen was not among them. With any luck he was already inside the operational building and setting the multiple charges that would deactivate the Net.
It was the waiting that grated on Arawn’s nerves. Even after the faint popping noise came from the starship and a cybot rolling past came to an abrupt halt—others along with him—the Prime Reaper experienced escalating nerves. He could see Glyn, Iden, Phelan and Cynyr. His men had laser whips in one hand and six-shooters in the other. They were poised to take out anyone who showed their
balgair
heads in the courtyard of the compound. All they were waiting for now was Owen.
“Where the hell is he?” Cynyr asked Glyn.
Worry was emblazoned on Glyn Kullen’s face. Owen was his best friend and the two were as close as brothers.
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“I don’t like this, Cree,” Glyn said. “I’ve got a really bad feeling in my gut.”
Five long, tortuous minutes passed and Arawn began chewing on his lower lip. He could feel sweat slicking his palms and trailing down his face. He armed the sweat from his face and cast a worried look at Jaborn.
“Something’s wrong,” Jaborn said.
Arawn turned to look at the main building. He caught Cynyr’s eye across the compound and Cree shrugged helplessly. Cree pointed at his own chest and then at the operational building but the Prime Reaper shook his head. If anyone were to investigate, it would be him. As his 2-I-C was not with them, Arawn trusted Cyn’s judgment, but if he’d lost Owen, he didn’t want to lose another man. He held his hand out—palm down—and made a staying motion to let Cyn know to hold his position. Off in the distance, the Prime Reaper heard the slow, steady flap of giant wings and knew Morrigunia was nearby. He also knew the goddess could not descend to rescue the
guirt
until the Net had been shut down. He wasn’t entirely sure but he had a fairly good notion that not even an immortal could get past the deadly security without all hell breaking loose.
Tendrils of thick fog obscured the main building and caused the oil lights inside the structure to give off a strange yellowish glow. There didn’t seem to be any observable activity beyond the closed doors of the building. Whatever was happening inside was taking place quietly. Had Owen been discovered, surely an alarm would have been raised already.
Jaborn tugged at Arawn’s sleeve and when the Prime Reaper looked around at him, the Akhkharulian’s face showed strain. “Let me go,” he offered. “I can still pass for a
balgair
.”
Arawn looked at the man for a long moment. He searched Jaborn’s mind—they had shared the ritual blood between them so they could communicate mentally—and he saw no treachery there, only a desire to be of help.
“If Tohre has been captured or killed,” Jaborn said, “we need to know. The Net still has to be shut down. Perhaps I can get to the devices he carried with him.”
Arawn nodded. “All right, but be careful, Kasid. Our success rests in your hands.”
The Akhkharulian straightened his shoulders. “You can count on me.”
Cynyr’s eyes widened as he saw Jaborn stand up and begin walking calmly across the fog-shrouded courtyard. His head snapped back to Arawn. They dared not speak mentally to one another for fear the transmission might be intercepted by the enemy. Across the distance Arawn held his astonished stare then deliberately looked away. The decision had been his to make and if it turned out to be a bad one, there would be no one to blame but Arawn Gehdrin. He strived to hear the flapping of Morrigunia’s wings but only a soft moaning wind wafted out of the night, swirling the low-lying fog into an undulating blanket of white over the courtyard.
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* * * * *
Without a stitch of clothing on his chilled body, Bevyn Coure slid down from the back of the dragon and walked on unsteady legs to a rock. He plopped down and buried his face in his hands, bending over, fearful he’d be sick. For the last two hours he had been perched precariously on the goddess’s back, clinging for dear life to a pair of copper scales at the base of Her long neck. One moment he had been flying in the night sky and the next the beastess had come up under him and he had found himself in human form straddling Her massive back. The imprint of Her sharp scales were stamped on his bare thighs and legs.