Rebel Ice (27 page)

"What is the Skjæera?"

"A skela who puts the dying out of their misery." Navn's voice grew rich with disgust. "Iisleg warriors do not slay the helpless."

"Go on."

The headman made an empty gesture. "That is all. The gjenvin brought the ensleg female here, to show me. The woman barely breathed, but they were afraid. So was I. I was about to take her head when the jlorra broke from their harnesses and took her. They dragged her out of the camp. It is their way to This Resa was not Cherijo Torin, Teulon decided. No living being, no matter how enhanced her physiology was, could survive under such conditions.

"If that female who would not die was a drone, no beast on this planet could have eaten her." Teulon pulled on his outfurs. "Your healer is attending the wounded that were brought here?"

"Yes, but there are so many, and he is old and only one man." A crafty look came into the headman's eyes. "These vral, if you permit them to live, they may prove of more use to us. They saved many of your men, did they not?"

They had, and that was the only reason Teulon had allowed them to live. If they were drones, perhaps he would even reprogram them. "Prepare your men to leave camp."

Navn was taken aback by this order. "You are taking my men?"

"You pledged them to me when you joined the rebellion." Teulon put on his face shield and left the rasakt's shelter.

The guards waiting for him outside escorted him from the camp to the temporary command post they had constructed just outside the battlefield, where the dead were being dragged by sled to be thrown into a nearby crevasse. Teulon had given orders that the skela not be summoned and worgald not be taken from any of the bodies.

"Neither of the females will speak, Raktar," Edin, who had been posted outside the makeshift detainment unit, said. "The packs they carried have ensleg medicines and such in them. No weapons except for this, which the smaller one carried." He showed it to the Raktar.

Teulon examined the weapon. It was a slim, narrow stiletto a fingertip in width and two hand spans in length. "Is this the sort of blade used by the Death Bringer?"

Edin looked uncomfortable. "I believe so, Raktar."

Teulon nodded and slid the blade into his sleeve. "I will question them."

Inside the temporary shelter, both women were sitting together in a corner, their backs to the walls. Both were conscious and showed no signs of abuse. Teulon knew the only reason for this was that most of his men remained convinced that they were vral and would not go near them.

He performed a thermal and bio scan of both females. They were not camouflaged drones, and they carried no subdermal devices or implants. Both were approximately the same age.

"I am the Raktar of the rebel forces," Teulon said, setting aside the device. "Who sent you here?"

Neither woman responded.

"I know you are not vral, or spirits, or sent by the Iisleg God." Teulon saw no reaction, but they were both still veiled. "Show me your faces."

When the women did not remove their head wraps, he strode over and tore them off, one in each hand. The masks beneath startled him, but only for a moment.

"I can remove those, as well," he advised them, showing his claws.

The other woman removed her mask in the same fashion, but kept her face averted. Her long dark hai
r helped by acting as a shroud. "Show me your face," Teulon said to the second female.

"Show yours," the first one said. Perhaps frightening them would provoke more of a response. Teulon reached up and removed his face shield.

The first female frowned, but the second glanced and then stared through the curtain of her hair. He

crouched in front of her, reaching to move the hair from her face. The long-haired woman bolted, running for the entry. Teulon caught her by the back of her robe and dragged her around. Her face was exposed now, the bright emitter overhead showing every detail of her features.

She looked enough like the other woman to be a sibling.

"No," she said, twisting to try to free herself with hysterical fervor. She snatched the blade from his forearm sheath and held it between them. "Let go.
Let go
." Teulon seized the knife and flung her away from him. She landed in a heap and did not move again. As he

turned to drag her to her feet, the other woman barreled into him, knocking him off-balance and falling with him to the floor. She pounced on top of him and pressed something sharp against the side of his throat.

"I use blade, kill ptar," she warned him. "I do same thing to you." "Is that why you were sent? To assassinate me?" "We came, help hurt men." She looked disgusted. "Would like kill you for hurting Jarn." Teulon rolled, dislodging the wedge of metal she had at his throat, and pinned her beneath him. "Never

make threats you cannot carry out. Drop it." She struggled for a moment, and then released the makeshift blade. He looked over at the long-haired woman. "Her name is Jarn?" "Don't hurt her," she spit in his face, speaking now not in Iisleg, but in Terran. "Slit my throat if you wish,

but she's done nothing." She glanced over at the dark-haired woman, who was unconscious. "She came here to help your men." Teulon rested the blade against her throat. "Why are you here? Who sent you?"

"We came on our own." She lifted her chin. "Go on. It's all you know how to do, isn't it? Kill me." The shift of her face made something glimmer, and Teulon used the blade to ferret it out. It was a vocollar, a linguistic translation device made and used by Jorenians. He had not seen one since the

She covered it with her hand. "It is mine."

Teulon lowered his blade. Two years ago. A Jorenian vocollar. An ensleg female who would not die. He reached farther back, recalling the image of a Terran female physician on his display. The relay had been distorted slightly by the dissimilarities in their com equipment, but she, too, had had dark hair with a single white streak. At the time, he had known of her—everyone had—but that had been his only contact with her. He could even remember some of that one, brief conversation they had shared.

Your kin have arrived, and we will keep them safe. May the Mother watch over you all.

"What is your name?" he asked the woman under him. "Resa."

Resa, the newly arrived ensleg who Navn claims does not remember who she is. The one he fears came here two years ago
. Teulon stood, and held out his hand. "Come. Stand. I will not hurt you."

She let him help her up, and yet watched him with wary eyes. "Why not?" He considered telling her exactly that. "You say you are here to help us. You have saved many lives. You did not try to kill me when you held the blade at my throat." He gestured to Jarn. "I believe you are what you say you are."

"No, we are not," Resa admitted. "But it is the only way we can help the wounded." She frowned. "You

speak Terran, like we do, but you are not Terran." "I had dealings with Terrans once." Teulon saw Jarn's head lift and her hand sweep the long dark hair from her face. "Is she Terran, like you?"

Resa nodded. "How did you come here? As a slave?" "I was sold in Skjonn." He went over and helped Jarn to her feet. "I escaped two years ago." There was no change in Resa's expression. "From the skim city? How?" "I was sentenced to death and walked off the edge of an open platform. Only I caught an edge as I went

over, climbed under it, and hid. Later, I stowed away on a supply ship. It brought me here." He felt Jarn trembling, and to her said, "I will not hurt you."

"You say one thing and do another," Jarn said. "I do not trust you." She was unsteady on her feet, so Teulon held on to her. There was something very strange about the Iisleg woman. She seemed not of this world. She reminded him of other, equally insubstantial things—things that soothed him with sorrow, and burned him with shame—

Like the spirit of the cave
. Teulon closed his eyes. Holding Jarn in her vral garments was as if he were back in the small cave, trying to embrace a column of air. He looked down at her. "Do you know me?" "No." She backed away from him. "Perhaps I will after you wash off the blood from your last victim."

Teulon studied his hands as she did, and saw the dark red stains. "I fought men who would have killed

"They lost, did they not? These men who follow you into battle"—Jarn gestured toward the entry—"do they know you are ensleg?"

"The ones I trust do. Healer, being that you and your friend are Terran, I do not think you are in a position to criticize me for my lack of veracity." There was something that bothered him about Jarn, as well, but Teulon couldn't place it. "Do you intend to keep searching for wounded and treating those you find?"

"It is our work," Jarn said. "We are healers."

"You will be dead healers if you continue to wander the ice without protection." Teulon couldn't let them go, especially not Resa, not now that he knew who she was. She might prove to be more valuable than the crystal. And in some strange fashion, Jarn shared a connection to the otherworldly creature from the small cave.

Was it her
? He had always thought the ghost he had encountered there a true spirit.
Spirit made flesh
.

The long-haired healer gave him a level look. "What do you want, Raktar?"

He had already planned to keep Duncan Reever on the planet. No one on Joren could know that Teulon was alive. One of these women was Reever's wife. The solution was a simple one. "You may join us and fight for the rebellion."

"Oh, yes, that is what I wish. Arm me. Let me shoot the men I have healed." Jarn made a disgusted sound and turned her back on him.

"We cannot fight," Resa reminded him softly. "We are healers."

"You came closer to killing me today than any assassin the Toskald have sent after me for the last year," Teulon told her. "I would not ask you to fight. You can follow the army and treat the wounded." While he kept Reever busy elsewhere, away from Resa and Jarn.

It was a cruelty, perhaps, but not a permanent one. Teulon could also safeguard both women until it was safe to permit Reever to leave Akkabarr.

"Just like that?" Jarn asked. "While you keep us well supplied with patients? Permit me to express my lack of gratitude now."

"War is upon us, Healer. Men will die whether you wish it or not." He saw something dark move in her eyes. "You will go on healing whether you are with the army or not. With us, you will be protected."

"While we watch you butcher them. I thank you, no." Jarn covered her face. "Are we permitted to go now?" She walked to the entry and waited there.

"Before the patrol came here, they fired on an iiskar to the north. Sverrul, it was." Teulon saw her back tense. "Do you know the camp?"

"I know the Sverrul, yes." Jarn turned around. "What happened?"

"What usually happens when a fully armed Toskald patrol decides to punish the Iisleg. The rasakt and every woman and child in the camp were incinerated." Teulon glanced at Resa. "They were not armed. Their men had left to join the rebellion. I doubt the women even came out of their shelters when they

heard the ships." Jarn was snaking her head slowly. "If we went with you, your men will not permit us to treat them." Resa picked up the blob that had

rendered her faceless. "That is why we use these. So that they will think we are vral."

Something else that Teulon now found very convenient. "You will have to maintain the vral illusion except when you are alone or with me. Would it be so difficult?" Resa turned to Jarn. "He is right." "He is a killer." Jarn went to Teulon. "What do you want from us?" she demanded. "You are a man. You

would not be this generous without a reason."

"A general who commands two vral will encounter very little resistance from the loyalist tribes," Teulon said. "You will give me the final sanction I need: the sanction of the Iisleg God." The two women looked at each other. "I cannot decide this," Resa told Jarn. "This is your work. I follow you." "They will discover what we are—
who
we are," Jarn protested. Resa thought for a moment. "Not if we are careful. We must have our own shelter. We cannot share it

with anyone else." "You will have it," Teulon said. "I don't have enough medical supplies." Jarn rubbed her eyes. "I have used here today most of what I

have been able to salvage." Teulon nodded. "I will obtain that which you need." "We will also need shelters that we can set up near the battlefields, so that the men can be treated under

cover," Resa suggested. "Someone to help us with moving and treating the wounded."

"The skela," Teulon said. "No one would question their presence, as they are death handlers. The skela already know what you are." "The ensleg," Resa said suddenly. "We cannot leave him." To Teulon, she said, "An ensleg came to the

crawls looking for us. He believes we know where his woman is. She was lost here, on Akkabarr. He is

Terran, and wounded." Teulon wondered how Reever could have found both women and not realized one of them was Cherijo. He would have to lie now, something that disgusted him, but could not be helped. "Terra is part of the League. The Toskald are forging an alliance with the League. Whatever reason he has come here, it is not to look for a woman. That is only an excuse."

The two women fell silent. Jarn's expression was not visible, but Resa's was troubled.

"There may be more that we require," Jarn said to Teulon at last. "It will not be a simple thing to conceal us." "No path worth traveling is simple." Or entirely revealed to the traveler, but Teulon kept that portion of

"No, we do not." Jarn pulled the wrap from her face and looked into Teulon's eyes. "I will not kill, ensleg. Not for you. Not for anyone."

She seemed to believe the words she spoke, and yet she carried the blade of a Death Bringer. "Agreed."

Jarn closed her eyes. "We will join your rebellion."

War

Chapter Sixteen

"You fight well, for an ensleg," the rebel in the abandoned trench said to Reever as he offered him some of the dried meat from his pack.