No Other Love (28 page)

The few moments of hesitation on the part of
Hotan’s followers had given Herne the opportunity to reach Merin.
He landed a well-placed punch on Hotan’s jaw. Letting go of Merin’s
wrist, Hotan staggered a step or two, and Saray went to him.

Merin and her friends were left standing with
their backs against the pedestal that held the Chon statue, just as
they had stood two nights before. As on that night, Hotan and his
group were separated from them. But not for long. With Hotan
leading them and Saray dragging on his arm to hold him back, the
angry rebels advanced toward the statue.

“Chon. Chon-chon. Chon!”

Merin had never seen an angry Chon before.
From the frightened reactions of the others in the Hall, she
thought no one else had, either. There were three of them, a green
one that Merin was certain was the same bird who had been in the
garden earlier, and two blue Chon.

“Cho-on! Cho-on!” It was a fearful sound. The
birds spread their wings wide so they hovered just above the golden
statue. With another ear-piercing cry, they extended their talons
in a terrifying display of fury while their long beaks opened to
show their teeth. The threat was unmistakable. Anyone who harmed
those gathered by the statue would be torn to shreds. Hotan’s
people fell back. A shimmering barrier rose between them and the
statue.

“Merin!” Saray shouted from the far side of
the barrier, “Go! Love Herne until you die, as I love Hotan. Leave
now, before it’s too late.”

“Come,” Dulan said to Merin. “The birds will
protect us for a few minutes more.”

“Saray?” Merin could not take her eyes from
Saray’s tear-streaked face. Anything they might have called out to
each other would be lost in the roar of outrage that Hotan’s
followers now set up as they realized they would be deprived of
their intended victims. Merin saw Saray’s lips move, made out the
single word,
good-bye,
and then Herne was pulling her toward
the back door and the garden. Their friends followed, all of them
running across the garden and into the alley behind it, where
Tula’s blue-and-yellow cart stood ready, the twin ixak harnessed to
it.

“Get in,” Tula ordered, clambering onto the
front seat and picking up the reins. “Hurry!”

Herne’s hands were at Merin’s waist, lifting
her upward. Imra, already aboard, caught Merin’s wrists in scaled
three-fingered hands, hauling her into the cart. A moment later,
Merin was sitting between the Styxian and Herne, in the back seat,
with Tula, Dulan, and Jidak in front, and Tula was racing his team
through the streets of Tathan. It was no easy task. It seemed as if
every citizen of Tathan was frantically seeking a safe place to
hide, and some were trying to take all of their belongings with
them.

“The Chon have warned them,” Dulan said,
answering Merin’s unasked question as to how the alarm had been
sounded so quickly.

“Herne,” Tula called over his shoulder, “we
are heading for our own safe place, the underground computer room.
Once there, we will seal it against detection and do what we can to
resist the coming attack.”

“But you two must go to your shuttlecraft,”
Dulan added, “as Ananka told you to do. It is the only hope you
have of seeing Home again. Tula, it’s best that you unharness the
ixak and let them ride the beasts. It will be faster than taking
the cart. They will have to outrun any pursuit that Hotan might
organize.”

“But you will need the ixak,” Merin
protested, “to carry you to Lake Rhyadur.”

“We have sssmall air vehicles,” Imra hissed.
“They are faster and safer than travel by land.”

Tula pulled up in front of a red stone
building that looked no different from the other houses near it.
Herne let Imra lower Merin to the ground while he went to help Tula
free the ixak from their traces. Merin put her hands on Imra’s
shoulders and the Styxian swung her down.

“Do not fear for Dulan,” Imra hissed softly
into her ear. “Or for Tula. Jidak and I will guard both of them
with our lives. They will reach Lake Rhyadur in sssafety.”

“I’m certain of it.” Merin smiled at Imra, at
a fierce, supposedly untrustworthy Styxian reptile, knowing she
could depend on Imra to keep her promise.

“Go in sssafety yourself,” said Imra. “You
are brave, for a human female.”

“Dulan.” Merin turned to her dearest
friend.

“We have no need for words, or for an
embrace,” Dulan said. “We understand each others’ hearts.”

“I thank you all,” Merin said, looking at
each of them in turn.

“And I,” said Herne. “I haven’t always been
polite, but I appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

“You should hurry.” Tula’s voice was rough,
as though he was trying not to weep. “The attack could begin at any
time.”

Merin had never ridden an animal before. With
Imra holding the ixak steady, it took Herne and Tula both to boost
Merin onto its back. They would not have succeeded without Jidak’s
help. He caught the seat of her treksuit in his single hand and
raised her into the air. Merin was terrified. She clung to the
reins with her right hand and clutched the ixak’s mane with her
left. She wanted to tell Herne that she could not possibly ride
this huge beast, but Imra caught her eye. If a Styxian thought she
was brave, then she would try to show courage. She straightened her
spine and sat proudly. Imra nodded, hissing her approval.

“After you reach your ship,” Tula advised,
“turn the ixak free. They will be safe enough, and may even find
their way back here when all is peaceful again.”

“Farewell, my friends.” Dulan’s head was
bowed. Tula waved to them. Imra raised her left arm high in the
ancient Styxian salute. Jidak’s clenched fist thudded against his
broad chest in a gesture of great respect. Then Herne urge his
mount forward and Merin’s ixak followed it. They rounded a corner
and the telepaths were lost to view.

Swallowing her tears, Merin looked about her
at the chaos engulfing Tathan. The streets were jammed with carts,
with other ixak, with lost pets howling, screaming children and
anxious mothers of all Races. Many males brandished weapons in
protective gestures if anyone came too close to their loved ones.
Above them, the Chon circled endlessly, as if to guide the fleeing.
The single bridge across the River Tath was impassible. Herne
pulled the reins out of Merin’s hand.

“Hold on tight,” he said. “I don’t know how
strong the current is, but we’ll have to go through the water. It’s
the only way. From what I know of Ananka, I don’t think she’s going
to allow us much time before she reneges on her promise.”

Merin now had reason to be grateful for the
renewed vigor the Chon had imparted to her and to Herne. Through
every moment of the next half hour she knew that without the Chon’s
fortification they would have been unable to survive.

The water of the Tath was far from cold, and
the seaward current was not strong, but Herne had reckoned without
the tide. They were halfway across the river when the incoming bore
caught them in a rush of churning, salty water. Merin was submerged
by it, nearly torn from the ixak’s back. Closing her eyes against
the stinging wetness, she wound both hands through the ixak’s mane
and clung to it as hard as she could. When her head was above water
for a few seconds she gasped for air before she was pulled beneath
the surface once more. She did not know where Herne was, if he
still had hold of the reins, or if he had been swept away by the
tide. She could only trust to the ixak’s instincts and hope the
animal would reach the farther shore before they both drowned.

Without any warning she felt the heat of the
late summer sun on her face. She opened her eyes just in time to be
tossed to the ground when the ixak collapsed under her. She lay
where she had fallen, only a foot or two from the water’s edge,
breathing deeply of the clean, hot air and watching the ixak
struggle to its feet. Before she could get to her own feet, Herne
was pulling her upright.

“You’ve lost your coif,” he said, pushing her
wet hair back behind her ears. “It took a Cetan attack and a raging
river to get that thing off your head in daylight, out in the
open.”

“You’re alive,” she cried, placing both hands
on his chest to make certain it was true.

“So are you,” he replied, grinning at her,
“in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Where are all these people going?” she
asked, looking about. The fields surrounding Tathan were filled
with folk hurrying away from the city. More were pouring across the
bridge and onto the only road, while a few, perhaps inspired by
Herne’s bold decision, were trying to swim or to ride ixak across
the river.

“Who knows where they’ll go?” Herne replied.
“They are just hoping to find safe shelter before the Cetans
arrive. Come on, help me get the bridles off the ixak. After that
swim they are too exhausted to carry us any farther. We owe it to
Tula to give his animals a chance to get away.”

It took only a moment or two. The ixak gave
no trouble, nor, when Herne slapped each on the rump, did they move
off at any great speed.

“Got your breath back?” Herne caught her
hand. “Can you run?”

“I’m sure of it. I’m fine now. Thanks to the
Chon, I feel healthy again.”

“Me too,” he said, pulling on her hand to
urge her along.

“I’ve lost my recorder,” she said. “I think
it happened during the struggle at the Gathering Hall.”

“Never mind that. Just concentrate on
reaching the shuttlecraft.”

They set off at the fastest pace they could
manage while weaving their way among the hordes fleeing Tathan.
Herne held tightly to Merin’s hand so they would not be
separated.

“There it is,” he said. “We’ve moved off the
common track now, which is good. We don’t want to have to fight off
terrified refugees who might want to go with us. I don’t know how I
could tell anyone to stay behind, but I believe Ananka’s promise
applied only to the two of us.”

Freed of the press of so many people, they
picked up speed, running as fast as they could toward the ship.
Herne unbolted the manual latch and pulled the hatch open. As soon
as they were inside, the hatch automatically slid shut again.

“That’s encouraging,” Herne noted, watching
the hatch operate smoothly. “Let’s hope Ananka keeps her word about
the engines, too.”

“I’ll pilot.” Merin took her familiar seat.
Across the aisle, Herne strapped himself into the navigator’s
position. Finished with her own safety harness, Merin lifted her
hands to the controls.

“Wait.” Herne stopped her. He spoke in rapid,
disjointed phrases, but to her ears, and to her heart, he made
perfect sense. “When Hotan grabbed you – might have killed you –
and the river – could have been lost. If we don’t get out of this
alive – want you to know – in spite of everything – I don’t care
what you are. I love you.
You,
Merin. Everything about
you.”

“I love you, too,” she said. Frightened as
she was, and uncertain whether Ananka would keep her promise to
them, Merin had never been so happy. “In this time or any other, I
don’t think it’s possible for me to forget what I feel for
you.”

“Nor I for you.” He loosened his safety
harness so he could lean across the aisle to kiss her. A long,
blissful moment slid by while they reveled in tender emotion.

“All right,” Herne said, laughing a little as
he pulled away and settled back into his seat, “I’ll finish proving
it to you later. For now, let’s go home.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” She laughed back at him.

The engines started on the first try. On his
side of the aisle, Herne flicked a switch.

“Viewscreen and all navigational instruments
are working,” he reported, then swore a blistering Sibirnan oath.
“The Cetans are here.”

The viewscreen came to life as Herne spoke,
the screen revealing small, rapidly moving ships. Merin recognized
them as an earlier version of their own craft.

“Cetan shuttlecraft coming in fast,” Herne
noted. “More of them than I expected, considering the size of the
mother ship. Poor Tathan. Poor telepaths. If only we could help
them.”

“Perhaps we can, once we are airborne.” Merin
went to work at the controls. Their craft rose off the ground.
“Ananka said to hover over Tathan until she does whatever she plans
to do for us. We have weapons, Herne. We can distract the Cetans as
long as we are in this time.”

“Every moment we can keep them occupied in
the air is that much longer the people on the ground will have to
reach safety.” Herne nodded his agreement. “Let’s try it.”

Just as Merin brought the shuttlecraft into
position above Tathan, a burst of light on their starboard side
rocked the little ship.

“Nasty people, the Cetans,” Herne grunted,
concentrating on their own weapons. “Give the word when you’re
ready.”

“Fire.” Merin’s voice was cool. “Fire
again.”

“Got one! Will you look at that!” Herne
pointed to the viewscreen. “We have help. Those are Chon,
maneuvering to confuse the Cetans, who probably don’t even know the
Chon exist. Are they going to be surprised! They may think the Chon
are a whole fleet of small shuttlecraft. Now there’s some fire
coming from Tathan. Our friends aren’t as defenseless as we
thought. Our scanning instruments show hidden weapons placed all
around the city and, from what I can see, they are using them well.
I’m sure it’s Jidak’s doing. He will know how other Cetans would
plan an attack. It’s just possible that more telepaths than we
believe will survive this battle.”

“I doubt if they can hold off this kind of
all-out assault for long, though,” Merin replied. “We’re in
position again, Herne. Fire when ready.”

A bright flash on the viewscreen showed that
Herne’s weapon had found its mark. From the spot where a Cetan ship
had been, debris rained downward.