Slave of the Legion (24 page)

"She speaks with the Gods of the Past, Slayer. She knew you would come today. She knows everything! Her power grows—you are her only weakness. You must be strong, Slayer. Do not let her take your soul!"

"She already has it, Deadeye. I rent it out weekly, to the highest bidder. She's got it this week."

"Do not joke about the Gods, Slayer. In the end the Gods will be laughing, and you will be crying."

"I don't doubt it. Where is Moontouch?"

###

Moontouch ruled from the dead city of Stonehall. It rose on six thickly forested hills in the heart of God's Garden, a short walk from where Deadeye met me with his warriors. It had been Southmark's pride, a great metropolis of wide canals and magnificent stone temples and massive, brutal fortress walls, a hundred generations in the past.

Now it was rubble. We approached it along a wide, dry gully that had once been a grand canal. It was lined with time-ravaged stone statues, soldiers of the Golden Sword. Battalions of ghost soldiers, still guarding that ghost canal, and every soldier was missing his head. The Horde had been here uncounted ages ago, and brought down Southmark in oceans of blood, and plunged the entire world into savagery, for the rest of time.

Moontouch inherited it all—an empire of the mind.

She met us on the crumbling marble steps of a great mountain of stone, covered with mighty trees. She was just as I remembered her, slim and lovely, the Queen of the Dead, long silky black hair and tanned satin skin, dressed in a black robe. Her dark eyes were blazing. She was glowing like a nova, triumphant. And she was holding a child in her arms, a male child, over a year old, a beautiful child with his mother's eyes and nose and mouth, and my fair skin, and fine long light hair that was all mine, and limbs that promised he would be tall and strong. He was surely the most lovely child I had ever seen in my short immortal life, and I knew he would become a prince, and lead his people against their foes, whoever they might be.

He held his mother tightly, and looked right into my soul. And Moontouch looked somewhere past me, into the sky, imperial and distant. She was flanked by her personal guard, Dark Cloud warriors who had pledged her their lives.

I hit the release on the autorecovery of my E and held the weapon out with both hands. The spears and tridents snapped back nervously and the slingshots whirled like a swarm of angry bees—one false move and I would perish in a bloody pincushion of spears and a hail of rocks.

Moontouch reached out one finger, and gently touched the cold black barrel of my E. I went down on one knee. The Taka warriors broke into a fierce chant. I had offered her my life and loyalty, and she had accepted. I was hers—and she was mine.

"I knew you would come," she said. Only that. I did not answer. I was thanking the Gods. The chances of my ever returning to Andrion 2 had been about a billion to one. But I had done it, myself. Me and the Gods.

###

I knew I would probably have only a few days with her, and with my only son. I treasured every moment—I was sure my orders would come through, all too soon. Orders to take me far, far away, forever and ever.

We lounged in a great silken tent set up in the ruins of Stonehall, full of incense and perfume. Soft breezes flowed through the tent to soothe our burning flesh. It had been so long since I had seen Moontouch. She had always been my hallucination—a fever dream in a hot night.

She served me warm goldpetal tea in a tiny cup, and presented me with a magnificent cloak of treesilk that she had knit for me, a little each night, while I was away. She sang sweet sad songs for me about her loneliness, songs she had composed in spidery Taka runes on little rolls of silk, during those long nights I was gone. And after every song she would burn the words in the incense pots, and vow to be sad no more, and the tent would fill with the scent of burning silk, and I would kiss her tender lips and lose myself in her yielding flesh, skin of satin talc, a soft rush of fine hair, and animal eyes burning, sharp white teeth sinking right into my neck. I didn't care about tomorrow—today was quite enough.

Our son was lovely as a morning star, so beautiful he looked like a little girl, and Moontouch would not cut his hair. "He is my king," she said, "my little king, and Southmark's future. He is the Golden Sword, returned. He is the sunrise of our race." She had named him Stormdawn, for Taka legend told of a King who would reclaim Southmark's heritage in a battle fought in a storm, at dawn.

He played with us in that magical tent, and slept with us at night. It was like paradise to me, after Katag and Uldo, after the march and the Mound and the Ship. And it seemed to me that this was what life should be—just to be with those you loved, to have a peaceful life with your family. It was an alien concept. But I knew that billions of people in ConFree, on Legion worlds, lived lives like that, lives free of fear. And I knew it was only because of the Legion that they could. It all came down to justice—our obsession. That's all the Legion was about—simple justice. Justice, and death.

I would wake in the night in a hot sweat, dreaming of Beta Nine. My message to Beta remained unanswered, and there was no news from Uldo. The galaxy was at war and there would be no announcements about Uldo until the situation was clear. I suppose I was secretly relieved that I did not know the truth. The faces of the dead were etched onto my knuckles, and I did not want to add Priestess to my collection. She stayed with me every moment—a phantom.

She was my fate, my future, my heart. If she was gone I would die inside and live on, a dead immortal. There were plenty of them, in the Legion—people with miniature faces all over their hands and fingers and the cross of the Legion burnt onto their foreheads. I prayed Priestess was alive—I prayed to Moontouch's strange Gods, and I asked her to pray too, for my lost comrades. We lit incense and candles for prehistoric Gods.

Gildron joined us, and he brought Willard, and Willard played with Stormdawn in our tent. Deadeye took charge of Gildron, and the Taka swarmed around him—never had they seen such a mighty warrior. They tested him with their best, and he swept them aside like annoying insects, snapping their spears with his bare hands. In no time at all, his fan club was larger than my own.

Tara did not come. She was busy on the Omni ship assisting the Legion. I did not think she wanted to meet Moontouch.

A Legion battlestar had arrived, the
Armageddon
, and disgorged an army of techs and science brains onto the Omni ship. We had done all we could. Now it was in the hands of the Gods.

I knew I would have to leave Moontouch. I didn't even try to fool myself about that. I certainly loved her but it was a love both fierce and futile, a love with no future.

There was something I had to do before I left. I took out the medkit one night after Stormdawn and Willard were asleep and Moontouch and I were alone on the pillows, under a tent that was swaying gently in a light, cool breeze.

"I told you our son is immortal," I said in Taka.

"I accept your word, my King," Moontouch replied.

"He will never die of age, but only if he is killed by his enemies, or by the Gods."

"He is a son of the stars. Our immortal!" She was prouder of him than anything else—he was her obsession.

"Would you like to become an immortal as well?" I asked her.

She looked at me carefully, blinking smoky eyes. "To live forever?"

"To live forever—and forever young. You would never age. You would stay just as you are, young and beautiful, forever."

"You can do this?"

"Easily."

"You will leave me. Soon."

"Yes. I will. I must. I will never see you again—or my son. I love you both, but the Gods will take me away—forever."

"Then perhaps I should die."

"You must choose. If you become an immortal, everyone you love will grow old and die—except for your son."

"And if I do not?"

"He will watch you grow old and die—just as any other son."

"And his children?"

"Immortal."

"And his wife?"

"Mortal. She will age, and die."

"His heart will die, of grief." She looked up to the silken roof of the tent, and her eyes were far away. "I must stay with him. He is the future of our world—I must stay with him!"

"Are you certain? I cannot undo it, once it is done."

"I am certain, my King. How else can I find you again?"

"You must not say that—you must forget me."

"Yes—and forget the stars and the sun and the rain. And forget our only son. Make me an immortal—I will cry for a thousand years, and then set forth to find you, again."

"Don't even think it! Give me your arm."

She thrust one slim arm at me, angrily. I ripped open the plasmapak—my fingers shook. I pressed it against her flesh and it found a vein and lit up. She looked right at me, and I avoided her eyes. The blood of the Legion squirted into her veins—golden blood, a slight improvement on God's work, courtesy of our unholy lifies. We were all insane, I thought. Immortality only prolonged our suffering. But I couldn't leave her behind to die like an animal.

###

"Alpha Station comlink, this is unit Seven Zero Three. Any word on my tracer to Uldo?" I called them four times a day—sometimes more.

"That's a twelve, Seven Zero Three. Sorry! We'll contact you as soon as we get a message."

"Yeah. I know. Thanks. Seven Zero Three out." I slipped the comset back onto my u-belt. It was a bright, clear, cool morning—I stood outside the tent. Moontouch and Stormdawn were still asleep. From the ruins of Stonehall, I had a magnificent view of God's Garden in all its glory, spreading to a misty horizon.

Deadeye approached, armed with a stabbing spear. He was always close at hand with his soldiers.

"Death, Slayer!" He had picked up some Legion terminology.

"Death, Deadeye. A good night?"

"A quiet night, Slayer. Our enemies lick their wounds."

"How about the exosegs?"

"We still pursue them, Slayer. We lead the Legion to their nests. There are millions of them, still. But we fear them no more. Your people have saved our world, Slayer. We are with the Legion, to the death."

I knew he meant it literally. The exoseg swarm had terrorized this world until we dropped from the skies to change history.

"And the Soldiers of God?" I asked.

"The Legion captured the Hand of God not long after you left. When they were through with him, they let us have him. We gave him a sword, to let him die with dignity. But he did not die with dignity."

"The Gods willed it."

"Yes. Your Gods are the same as ours."

We lapsed into silence, enjoying the faint breeze and the view. Deadeye's warriors were camped all around us. It was not a very disciplined army, but they were good auxiliaries. We called them "airmobile rabble" at one point when ferrying them around the planet. They were tough, fearless little bastards, and had been invaluable in breaking the power of the Cult of the Dead and the Soldiers of God.

My comset squawked suddenly. "Wester! They're back!" I snatched at it.

"What? Tara—who's back?" The comset screeched and crackled, then went dead.

"Tara! Answer! What's the sit?" I shouted. Moontouch came out of the tent, blinking.

"What is it, my King?"

"I don't know," I said. The set squawked again, a babble of voices, the sharp crack of E's firing, then silence. I could feel my blood pressure rising. She was in the ship—she must still be in the Omni ship!

"Tara, Tara, Wester, answer!"

"Wester, it's…" She was cut off in mid-sentence.

"Alpha Station Transport, this is unit Seven Zero Three," I called. "I need immediate transport—this is an emergency!"

No answer. Damn! Tara was in trouble, and I was stuck with no transport.

"Alpha Transport, Seven Zero Three, answer! I need an aircar, now!"

No answer. Why wouldn't they answer? They always answered! "Tara, Wester—acknowledge!" But there was no answer from her, either.

"Your friend is in great danger," Moontouch said calmly. "She is fighting for her life. There is nothing we can do."

I turned to face Moontouch. Her lovely face was softly illuminated by the rising sun—she was glowing like a princess of gold.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"She is touched by the Gods—I can feel her from here."

"Deadman! Alpha Station…" I was interrupted by the alert.

"GALACTIC NOVA! ANDRION SYSTEM UNDER OMNI ATTACK! GOING TO BLACKOUT! FLASH RED COMBAT ALERT! CRASH LAUNCH ALL COMBAT UNITS! ALL PERSONNEL TO ACTION STATIONS! ALL PERSONNEL STAND BY FOR TARGET INFO!"

"Scut!" I knew there would be no transport for me now. I was going to sit this one out right here.

"Wester, it's the O's!" Xmax and laser, in the background.

"Talk to me, Tara!"

"It's the O's! They're back! Scut! Look out!" More xmax, commands and curses. "They're in the ship! Holos! They're artificial, Wester! We can't fight them!"

"Get out, Tara! Get out!"

"We're taking casualties!"

"Get out! You can't fight them!"

"They want the ship!"

"Give it to them, Tara!"

"Get off this freq, trooper!" somebody demanded. "Ultra One, report!"

"Ultra, One!" An unfamiliar voice. "We've lost the bridge—we've got all our casualties with us!"

"One, Science! I confirm the unitium mag field is unstable and failing! The D-neg is about to be released! Repeat, we're facing a nova!"

"They're going to destroy the ship!"

"Tara," I interrupted again, "get your people off!"

"One, do you still hold the power room?"

"Twelve, Ultra…" My comset suddenly went off frequency. Alpha had cut me off.

"Alpha, you bastards, get me back on that freq!"

"Negative, Seven Zero Three. You can't help!"

"Get your people off that ship, Alpha!" But Alpha did not answer me.

Cut off and helpless, I reeled in warm morning sunlight, clutching my useless comset. Moontouch was by my side. Willard and Stormdawn came out of the tent, awakened by the fuss. Willard held Stormdawn's hand—he liked the little fellow.