The Quest (37 page)

Chapter 16: Those Without Reason

Like the last time, it was more a controlled crash than a controlled descent, but when my ears stopped ringing and I staggered to my feet, I discovered that we had both survived the fall. It was hard to feel happy about this. Though I wasn’t bleeding, I felt horribly drained and weak, my head spinning, and I could barely limp the few steps I needed to gather my scattered gear. I had hit the ground sideways, and my whole left side felt like it had been pierced by thousands of knives.

Ed Regis wasn’t much better off but he helped me put my boots back on and, shouldering his backpack, grinned down at me. “That was one hell of a fall.”

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” I mumbled weakly.

“Let’s keep it that way. Come on, up you get, Sir Knight.”

“Please don’t call me that,” I said as Ed Regis helped me to my feet.

The slope that stretched downwards from the bottom of the cliff was still pretty steep, but we didn’t have time to be careful. The Angels would soon be able to spot us from above, and I couldn’t put it past their flying telekinetic to chase us down if he saw that there were only two of us. Ed Regis was limping slightly too, but he helped me along until I recovered enough strength to keep up on my own. We somehow made it down the slope without falling or hearing any more gunshots from behind.

We knew that Alia’s team should have descended somewhere to our north, but the terrain was exceptionally rough in that direction so we decided to continue toward the Historian rather than attempt to regroup with them.

“If we’re really lucky, their finder is dead,” said Ed Regis.

“What difference does it make?” I said, pulling along my deadened left leg as quickly as I could. “I’m sure there are destroyers who can sense me.”

“True,” said Ed Regis, “but what are the chances of them having a healer who could track your sister?”

The chance was small, but not comfortingly small. The Seraph leader had probably split up his team suspecting an ambush, and, in doing so, he would have left any healer he had behind. Besides, a telepath, if they had one, could track Alia just as easily as any finder or healer. Still, that was Terry’s problem now. Mine was getting Ed Regis and myself to the Historian.

Despite having only two uninjured legs between us, we made fairly good time and didn’t stop for the night. The moon was the thinnest sliver possible without being gone altogether, but the sky was cloudless and the starlight seemed just a little brighter than usual. We had several dangerous slips and falls in the darkness, but since there was hardly a place on my body that didn’t already hurt, a few extra bumps and bruises couldn’t make much difference to me anymore.

Whenever I could, I used my telekinetic power to augment the strength in my left leg, which, along with my left arm and side, had turned deep purple and throbbed with every step. Ed Regis had to rely solely on his own tired muscles, but whatever pain he was in, he kept it to himself. As we pushed ourselves forward one mind-numbing step at a time, I felt as if we were daring each other to be the first to give in and ask for a rest. I kept my mouth shut.

It was only well after dawn of the next day that our strength finally gave in and we rested several hours. Ed Regis offered to take the first watch, but when I woke in the early afternoon, he was fast asleep.

We ate one last meal, and then Ed Regis dumped everything but the last of our water, putting the remaining two small bottles into his jacket pockets. It looked like even the mighty Wolf had finally reached the end of his endurance. Even without his backpack, Ed Regis’s pace didn’t improve much, for which I was grateful since I was still struggling to keep up.

Near nightfall of that day, we stumbled upon a small crack in the mountainside. The cave was only a few yards deep, and Ed Regis and I debated the merits of staying there for the night. If the Angels found us, the narrow opening would nullify their advantage in numbers, giving us a fighting chance. On the other hand, we would be trapped inside and they could just wait us out.

“Being underground would hide my power a little,” I suggested. “They’ll have more trouble pinpointing us.”

We carefully dragged ourselves in through the crack.

It was pitch-black inside until Ed Regis turned on a little flashlight that was designed to be mounted under the barrel of one of his pistols. The white light illuminated the rough walls and low ceiling of this claustrophobically tiny space, which was even smaller than the two-man tent we once used. We couldn’t even sit up properly in here, but at least the cave was dry and had a moderately flat floor.

We both groaned in pain as we stretched our stiff bodies on the hard, dusty ground, lying face up, side by side, with our heads toward the cave’s entrance. Once we were settled, Ed Regis turned off his light, leaving us in total darkness.

“How much farther is it?” asked Ed Regis.

“We’re making good progress,” I replied. “Just not in the right direction.”

As always, we weren’t traveling in a straight line to the Historian’s mountain, and today’s hike had taken an especially long detour around yet another un-climbable peak.

“How much farther?” pressed Ed Regis.

“Two days,” I said. “Two days in a straight line.”

“You could have flown there by now.”

“I can’t fly more than a few minutes at a time.”

“You know what I mean, Adrian.”

By taking frequent breaks to recharge my strength, alone, I could have easily crossed more difficult terrain. But that wasn’t an option in my mind. “We’re going together or not at all, Ed Regis.”

“You already saved my life on the cliff,” said Ed Regis. “You don’t owe me.”

“I do owe you,” I said firmly. “Your life isn’t saved till I get you to the Historian.”

I didn’t want to argue that point any further, and by Ed Regis’s silence, I assumed that he understood.

Technically, I could hardly claim to have saved his life (or my own for that matter) simply by getting us to the Historian alive. We had no gifts to trade for information, and even if the Historian did answer our questions, it would be another mad run against the Angels to get back to civilization. Unless we could replenish our supplies and get some proper gear and weapons, our chances of returning alive were next to nil. Right now, however, the mission was simply to get to the Historian. After that, what was unknown couldn’t be helped, and I hadn’t the strength left to worry about it.

I realized that I was so dead tired, my nerves so stretched, that there was no way I could simply close my eyes and fall asleep.

Ed Regis seemed to be in the same situation. “I’ll take first watch,” he said.

I asked playfully, “Like you did this morning?”

Ed Regis laughed embarrassedly. “Sorry about that, Adrian. So much for professionalism, huh? I’m okay now.”

“Actually, I’m not that sleepy right now either.”

“Still, one of us should sleep,” said Ed Regis.

“Let me have that light again,” I said, pulling myself up slightly and resting on my elbows.

Ed Regis held the light for me as I pulled off my belt and stuffed the buckle under my shirt.

Watching me, Ed Regis asked, “What are you doing?”

“A little trick I learned from the Slayers,” I said as I lay back down, feeling extra dizzy from the draining. “This will make it harder for the Angels to find me.”

“Doesn’t that mean you won’t be able to get a good rest?”

I scoffed. “We’re hiding under a rock in the middle of nowhere with nothing to eat and hunted by Seraphim who might catch up with us in the middle of the night and throw a grenade in here. What makes you think I’m about to get a good rest either which way?”

“You’ve got a point there,” laughed Ed Regis. “Still, it must be pretty uncomfortable to remain drained for so long. Especially when you’re injured.”

“Don’t worry about me, Ed Regis,” I insisted. “I can deal with it.”

“I know you can,” Ed Regis said quietly. Then he shook his head slowly, looking at me in wonder as he said, “You know, even when we first met, years ago, I really was very impressed with you. It took a while before I realized that I wasn’t dealing with some dumb little kid that I could scare into submission.”

“Which is why you threatened to kill Alia,” I reminded him.

“Yes, but we would never have actually done it.”

“I know that,” I said with a grimace. “I really kicked myself for believing you.” Then I smiled and added, “But you never got Cindy.”

Ed Regis smiled too. “No, we didn’t.”

Ed Regis turned the light off again, and I whispered into the darkness, “It all seems so long ago. If someone had told me when I was twelve years old that soon I’d be flying and getting shot at and killing people and traveling around the world to meet a 3000-year-old man, I would have wondered what drug he was on.”

I heard Ed Regis chuckle. “I wouldn’t have believed it either if someone had told me last year that I’d be joining a team of Guardians to seek out the greatest psionic in all history.”

“What’s so great about psionics, anyway?” I muttered.

“You tell me,” said Ed Regis. “You’re the one who can fly and use your fingers like guns.”

“So what?”

“That doesn’t register as being special in any way?”

Ed Regis couldn’t understand because he wasn’t psionic. “Not really,” I said. “I mean, what’s it all good for anyway? My power never saved my life or anyone else’s. At least, my life would never have needed saving if I weren’t psionic. They call me a destroyer, but a bullet from a gun is far better than anything I could shoot from my hands. My powers didn’t help us in that ambush. What good is being telekinetic aside from being able to jump out of an airplane without a parachute?”

Ed Regis replied, “The greatest minds in the world want to know how psionic power works, Adrian. It’s got to be worth something.”

Dr. Otis had said something similar to me on my first day at the PRC. I frowned, but Ed Regis didn’t see it in the darkness.

“Besides,” continued Ed Regis, “you’re forgetting why we’re here. Maybe modern weapons have nullified a psionic destroyer’s advantages in combat, but master controllers can rule empires. That’s the power everyone is interested in today.”

“I’m not interested,” I said stubbornly. “Today or any other day.”

“Then you’re the exception to the rule. After all, what is the one thing all powerful people want?”

“More power?”

“That’s right,” Ed Regis said matter-of-factly.

“The point is, Major, I never asked for this power, and I don’t like being hunted for it. All I wanted was to live in peace. Is that really so much to ask?”

Ed Regis remained silent for a moment, and then said apologetically, “You’re right, Adrian. It shouldn’t be.”

“I wasn’t talking about the Wolves, you know,” I said.

“I do hope you find your peace.”

Cindy had said the same thing to me last year, but I never expected to hear it from a Wolf. “It’ll depend on what the Historian tells us,” I said wearily. “But most likely she’s already dead.”

“Who?”

Ed Regis’s question threw me for a moment. Then, realizing what I had just said, I let out a frustrated huff. That’s what I get for blabbing.

“Why
are
you here?” pressed Ed Regis. “If not to find Randal Divine, then why?”

“Alright, you got me. King Divine was Terry’s mission, not mine,” I admitted. “I came here looking for Alia’s mother. She was with the Guardian Council when our city was taken. We haven’t seen her since.”

“Cynthia Gifford, was it?”

“That’s right.”

“You came all the way out here hoping that the Historian might tell you where she is?”

“I know that sounds ridiculous,” I said, sighing. “She’s probably long dead or converted by now. But Cindy was the only real mother Alia ever had, and mine too after my parents died. I have to know what happened to her.”

“This woman must have been something really special for you to risk your life like this,” said Ed Regis.

I smiled to myself, remembering the embarrassingly cute clothes Cindy used to buy for me. But I would happily wear those girly outfits for the rest of my life if only I could find her again. “She had her faults, Ed Regis, but yes, she was very special.”

Ed Regis asked in an incredulous tone, “You have no interest at all in the Angel king?”

“You sound like Terry,” I said, chuckling. “She once accused me of the same indifference. Of course I care about the king. I don’t want to live in a world ruled by psionics. Especially by Randal Divine. Getting Alia back to Cindy would be pretty meaningless if we’re all going to end up serving the Angels together. I already promised Terry that I’d hunt the Angel master with her as soon as we found out what happened to Cindy. I’ve broken many promises but this one I plan to keep.”

“You sound pretty serious,” said Ed Regis.

“I am,” I said forcefully. “And it’s not just about the Angels or Randal Divine, for that matter. I’ve seen enough of this war to know that psionics should never rule the world. I will do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen. Anything at all.”

“You know, Adrian, sometimes I wonder if the Angels might have a point. Maybe if all countries were united under a single psionic king, there would be less conflict. But I wouldn’t want to live in that world either. People should always be free to govern themselves without fear of psionic influence. That’s what the Wolves are about, more or less.”

Now
that
struck a nerve. I replied icily, “Don’t kid yourself, Major. The PRC was never just about researching psionics for defense or peaceful uses. They wanted to create soldiers that could fly and shoot lightning and heal themselves in combat. Everything was about power and control and who gets to have it.”

Ed Regis mumbled awkwardly, “I wasn’t suggesting that it’s a perfect world.”

I didn’t want to get into an argument with this man. Drained and dizzy, I didn’t have the energy for it, and there was little point anyway. It was time to change the subject.

Ed Regis seemed to feel the same way, and asked me, “Just out of curiosity, what does the Historian’s house look like?”