Quest For Earth (38 page)

Where is she?

A shape. He swivelled upright, raised his axe to deliver a felling blow when the smoke cleared briefly.

‘Kondo,' he croaked through a parched throat. He swiped his forearm over the sweat trickling from his forehead. His arm, when he dropped it to his side, was coated in blood.

The other warrior reached out and gripped Maaka's shoulders.

‘A creature took her. I have failed to protect her as I vowed to do. She is lost to us,' said Kondo.

Maaka shrugged off the other's touch. Never would he accept such a thing.

‘There is still time. They will take her into their barrows.' His glare drilled into Kondo's face. ‘We will take this hunt into their territory. Victory or death.' He grabbed the arm of a passing Lycanean and told him to pass the order on.

‘Wait,' Kondo stayed him. ‘The angle at which the missiles fell suggests the creatures have flying crafts they used to launch the weapons. We need to locate and destroy these ships first. From the sound of their engines, I suspect they are using hover crafts.'

The Relic warlord's words made sense, but Maaka smacked his hand away. The howling in his soul for his mate beat with all the fury of a mega storm front. ‘Deal with it.' He wrestled with his inner demons of panic and fear. ‘Then deal with the hordes above ground.'

Maaka whistled; the sound rattled low from his raspy throat. They needed the were-dogs to compensate the vast and unexpected numbers of their foe. He could only hope the were-dogs were within distance to hear his call. Ignoring the pain assailing his battered body, he ran into the smoke, using his second eyelids as a film protecting his eyes. It would protect and improve his vision. With each step he lengthened his stride, a weapon of destruction as he slashed his way clear. The Half-dead faltered on seeing him; enough hesitation for Maaka to cut them down where they stood.

He raced on.

He centred his breathing, straining his ears for any foreign sounds that would detect the location of hover crafts armed with alien technology.

The smoke dissipated and the main bulk of the Half-dead army lay behind him. Any stragglers he came upon were dealt swift justice with his axe and sword. Rises of rubble and earth choked with grey, brittle weeds lay before him. Somewhere in the labyrinth of tunnels and caves beneath his sweet Sherise was imprisoned.

A hover craft zoomed towards him. Twin propellers at the rear spun so rapidly the blades were a blur, driving the craft faster than a man could run. A rounded black fabric that looked as tough as leather completely encircled the craft and bulged from beneath. It was similar to the craft that had haunted him since the darkest day of his life.

Till now.

By Leon's beard, could the Teacher be here? Was it he who had given the alien weapons to the Half-dead?

Maaka's blood charged hot in his veins. A red mist of fury flooded his mind.

If he has hurt her, he will pay for eternity.

The craft changed direction, tilting sideways; he recognised the tactic. It was lining up to fire. The vehicle was so close he saw the grinning features of the pilot in the cockpit and the Puridean soldiers manning various weapon stations along both sides.
Then the Corporation is aiding the Half-dead.
He increased his pace. His legs working like machines, he covered the short distance between them and leapt.

Straight into the open cargo area of the hover craft.

He landed on both feet, knees slightly bent, body curved into a half-crouch. One step forward and he swept his axe in a horizontal line. The heads of the soldiers closest to him loped to the ground. Blood and body fluids splattered the surfaces like sluggish raindrops.

The craft jerked and tilted in the opposite direction.

Impact punched into his chest. Sufficient to send him reeling on his feet. Plitza shot, deflected by the tikka armour.

His sweet Sherise.

He smiled, regaining his balance. He would give no quarter. The blade of his sword flashed as he whirled his weapon. First left, then right.

Seconds later the cargo area was awash with a scatter pattern of blood, fragments of limbs and broken bodies, like a grotesque painting. The stench of spent body fluids was so ripe even his hardened stomach churned. He spun to face the pilot who shot him a terrified look and dived off the craft. The craft jolted, angling towards the earth.

Time to leave.

Maaka jumped. He landed, rolled on his shoulders and pushed to his feet in one swift movement. He sheathed his sword, looped his axe to his belt and raced off, following the trail of several Half-dead as they retreated to their barrows.

Behind him, the hover craft slammed into the ground and exploded.

Chapter 25

Sherise regained consciousness to find she was slumped over a creature's shoulder. Her head thumped against its back as it loped in an uneven gait. Pain slashed across her temple. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her head whirled and throbbed in equal measure. A sickly sweet stench mixed with the smell of decay and damp earth filled her nostrils.

Maaka, had he fallen?

By burying her pain, she delved deep into her empath ability. He was not near but she sensed the comfort of his essence. Whether it was the truth or her inability to accept anything less, she knew Maaka still lived. She opened her eyes a tiny centon and lifted her head, clamping down on an ache that would surely split her head in two.

A tunnel. Shadows flickered on the rock walls cast by the light from burning torches wedged into fissures. She heard the scrape and shuffle of many feet mingling with the wheezing breaths of creatures and shuddered.

I am in one of those mounds, no, barrows, Maaka called them.

Moisture dripped from her scalp. A droplet ran into her mouth as she laboured to fill her lungs with air. She recognised that metallic taste; blood. Any minute now she would vomit.

Her body pulsed with pain but she suspected her full body armour had taken the brunt of the blast. Hanging half upside down and being jolted as she was carried added to her misery.

She attempted to push the pain to one side of her mind and herd her disjointed thoughts into a cohesive pattern. White hot agony splintered like a jagged sword through her head and she sucked down a scream. The faintest of whispers, a tender caress of concern swept through her mind and Maaka's essence reached her heart. The fog of pain lifted. Her thoughts crystallised.

Locate Maaka.

Her nano blade snicked into her hands. She raised the knife and prepared to strike it into the Half-dead's arse.

The creature stopped. The next instant she was thrown through the air. She landed hard. Pain streaked through her body, temporarily blinding her. Her weapon slipped through her limp fingers. Gasping, she curved into a foetal position and rolled onto her side to protect her damaged ribs, expecting to feel a rain of fists and boots. But nothing happened.

They have left me alone
. The roar of her heartbeats diminished. Sharp rocks dug into her body but failed to penetrate her armour. Her body was one heaving mass of pain and her teeth clattered together in an uncontrolled symphony of noise. The stench she drew in with every breath stung her nostrils. Beneath her tightly squeezed lids, her eyes watered and moisture dribbled down her cheeks.

Her arms wrapped about her ribs, she prised open her eyes to take stock of her surroundings. Her sensors were totally damaged now, nothing but horizontal lines. She inched her hand from her side and flicked off the display. When she activated the comms she heard the crackle and hiss of white noise. No way of making contact with the others. She tapped in another sequence and her helmet flipped open and retreated inside her armour.

The armour encasing her right hand had ripped apart near her knuckles and there was a long jagged tear from the palm of her left hand to her wrist, rendering her nano gloves all but useless. But they had protected her hands and fingers from any broken bones. She tugged them off and tossed the remains aside.

Tiny, feathery pricks scurried across her forehead. She reared up, sank her teeth deep into her lip to capture her squeal of surprise, then brushed her hand over her face.

What was that? Oh Cercis, is it in my hair?

Sherise brushed at her hair, until a movement caught her eyes. A tiny insect with multiple furry legs scuttled under a rock. She sucked in a short, shaky breath.

Focus. Assess my injuries. Plan an escape.

It took her several attempts of fumbling in her satchel, but she retrieved her shayote and activated the sensors. White noise added to the confusion in her mind. Disjointed data scrolled down. It fuzzed and zapped, hurting her eyes, then steadied.

Thank you, Cercis.
One badly bruised rib which accounted for the fire in her chest and bruising from head to toe; but she was relatively unhurt. She shoved the shayote back into her bag and jabbed a pain med into the side of her neck. With the edge taken off, she was able to concentrate.

The wavering torchlight cut the darkness revealing moss-covered rock walls. Her gaze travelled over the ground. A chill slivered up her spine at the gleam of bones amidst the pebbles and clods of earth that littered the cave floor. Another captive lay within touching distance, his hands bounds, crusted blood dried to his white face. Beneath his ragged, brown tunic the man's chest rose and fell with each shallow breath.

At least I have found one of the people taken from the settlement
.
More may be close by—more may be alive
. A shadow crossed the wall and she spun round, hissing as fire streaked like a lightning burn over her breast bone. The Half-dead paid no attention to her as it hurried past, carrying a metal box. What did it contain? Was there a cache of blasters and plitza guns hidden here? She frowned. The creature appeared to be retracing the way Sherise had come … heading for the surface?

If weapons were stored here, then she must ensure they were destroyed. Perhaps the tide of the war raging above might turn in their favour. From the sound of footsteps, she surmised there were quite a number of Half-deads roaming the tunnels. Why where they not involved in the battle? What if they were the second wave and were busy arming themselves at this very moment? Outnumbered, the Lycaneans and her people could be over-run and all would be lost.

Time was not on their side.

She sank her teeth deep into her lower lip when the man stirred. The weapons could wait a while longer.

On her knees she shimmied closer to the injured man. A quick analysis with her shayote revealed his injuries to be non-life threatening and uttered a brief prayer of thanks. That lump on his head was no doubt responsible for his lack of consciousness. Her fingers fumbled with the knotted rope but she soon had his hands free. From her satchel she produced a small vial. Unscrewing the lid, she held it under his nose. The man snorted and opened a pair of blood-shot eyes. When she placed a finger on his lips, he managed a nod of understanding. Sherise administered an injection for his pain and quickly repacked her satchel.

She leaner closer and whispered, ‘Can you walk?'

In response, he rolled onto his side and pushed to his knees. His breathing was laboured but Sherise was certain he would be able to walk unaided.

‘Are there others?'

‘Yeah.' The man jerked his head towards the dark entrance of the tunnel closest to them. ‘I was down there, too, but managed to crawl this far before I passed out again.'

‘Guards?' asked Sherise.

‘None. I fear the Half-deads have other matters on their minds at present.'

Their eyes met in grim understanding. Footsteps approached. Sherise crouched and shuffled sideways into darker shadow, noticing that the Freeber male followed her example. They waited in silence while a creature dashed past, disappearing down another tunnel.

She said, ‘Can you get your people out? I suspect there is an armaments cache here and I must destroy it.'

‘This I can do. Give us thirty minutes to be clear.'

Sherise rummaged in her satchel and pressed the last of her phials into the man's hands. ‘Give your people one each, it will help with their pain.' She handed over her other weapon. ‘Here, take this. But note it does not kill, only stuns.' She gave him a quick lesson on its operation and a few minutes later, he lifted a hand in farewell and hurried off.

Thirty minutes, meaning thirty sectons. She counted down the time in her head while she activated her knife. It failed to respond. Where was it? Her heart went into rocket mode while she wasted precious minutes groping about in the dirt until her fingers closed over the handle. Although her knife would be of use only in close combat, it would have to be sufficient. She would save her supply of uron charges for the blast she hoped would destroy whatever weapons remained in the barrows. First, she needed to confirm their location.

One hand pressed to her side, the other touching the slimy wall, she crept along the tunnel as it snaked deeper into the earth. She tripped over an object that crunched under her foot. A human bone, dry and brittle with age. She gritted her teeth. These creatures had no respect for the dead.

The torches were now spaced many footsteps apart and it was difficult to see the way ahead. Perhaps she should activate her magfen lamp? But if she did, any hope of surprise would be lost.

She took another few cautious steps toward a curve in the tunnel, where light glowed. Sherise pressed against the rock and peered around the corner. The tunnel opened onto a wide ledge. Beyond, lay a well of impenetrable darkness. She suspected a chasm was the cause of the darkness. With no torches burning on the far side, there was no way of judging its depth nor its width. A wave of dizziness swamped her. If she fell … she squeezed her eyes shut and mouthed a short prayer mantra. Head clear, she took a second, longer scrutiny of the small plateau.

Found it. Thank you, Cercis.

Even better, no sign of the Half-dead.